#Kaite’s fic

[kaite--s]

@not-freyja @layraket aquí el avance para vivir un día más!

No he escrito nada antes fuera de algunas divagaciones de mis ideas, así que tal vez encuentren cosas mal explicadas en mi fic jsdkgng

—Ehem!— Hilda tose, tratando de llamar la atención de su acompañante, quien da un brinco al ser sacado de sus pensamientos—¿Qué opina, Consejero Real? Esto me parece una buena opción para fortalecer los lazos entre Hyrule y Lorule, además de callar a cualquier persona que intente descalificarnos de mal agradecidos, pero la decisión final será tuya.

—¿Eh? Yo… creo que necesitamos la opinión de Mr Hero, quiero decir, Link, para tomar una decisión. Esto… esto no es algo que pueda aceptar si Link no está de acuerdo.

—Esperaba que dijeras eso— Zelda voltea a ver a un guardia y le hace señas con las manos— Llamé a mi hermano con antelación, en unos momentos entrará al salón.

—Oh… está bien.—Nervioso, el espejo del héroe se lame los labios y encuentra repentinamente muy interesante el piso.

Con una risita, Hilda tranquiliza a Ravio—Respira, no te va a comer.— No a menos que quieras, terminó en su mente.

—Pero…

…

—¿…Estás segura de esto? No me gustaría forzar a mi Héroe a algo que no quiere.

—¿Los has visto interactuar? Están enamorados. Sin embargo, mi hermano no hará nada por su cuenta, y creo que Ravio es la persona perfecta para cerrar las cicatrices que siguen abiertas.

—Bien. Pero no dudaré en cancelar la propuesta si resulta contraproducente.

—No podría esperar menos.

…

Todo está sujeto a cambios.

[katsu28]

for you i'd wait forever

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley breaks things off with you before a deployment because he doesn't want you to worry about him (4.2k)

warnings: some swearing, bradley's commitment issues, happy ending i promise!

a/n: okay so from what i gathered from my googling is that tapping out is typically for new military graduates (i think?) but this idea was so cute so pls forgive the inaccuracies i have no idea what i'm doing at all <3 and also pls forgive me for the utter lack of writing since the beginning of the year, these last few months have been brutal (creatively and otherwise) but i am hopefully back!!! xx

Bradley thought he knew the tolls of being in the Navy. It was tough on not only him, but the people in his life. For the most part, he’d always put his career first. His life had always been on a set track, and although there were plenty of setbacks, he forged ahead until he got where he was today. 

And then he met you. Fell in love with you. Finally knew what it meant to have someone in his corner who was just his. Who knew him for him only, not as Goose’s kid, or Mav’s protege.

For the first time in his life, he could actually see himself spending the rest of it with you. Marriage, house, kids, grandkids—the whole shebang.

That was his first mistake. The more he thought about what life could look like with you, the more he thought about what your life could look like without him. What would happen if something happened to him and he didn’t make it back from this next mission coming up in a few weeks. 

He thought about his mom and how she lost his dad—her husband. The man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. 

Bradley’s thoughts grew quite grim after that. Countless what if’s and thinking about every possible outcome and he eventually made up his mind. He had to break up with you. 

He didn’t want to. Not by a long shot. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his thirty plus years of life. But deep down, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was about to leave for six, seven months, with little to no contact with anyone who wasn’t Navy. That would definitely take a toll on your relationship. You’d never been through something like this before, and there really was no way to prepare you for what it would be like. 

You would worry about him every single hour of every single day, he knew that for a fact. Bradley barely remembered what it was like when his dad was away because he was so young, but he did remember how worried his mom was all the time.

Looking back, he understood now. He didn’t want that for you. The worry would hold you back from other things you wanted to do in life, things that brought you joy and gave you purpose. 

With the mission creeping up on him faster than he would’ve liked, he knew he had to do it sooner rather than later. 

That was how Bradley found himself on your doorstep right now, pushing down his guilt by telling himself over and over that breaking up with you was in your best interest. He hadn’t called beforehand to tell you he was coming by, so when you answered the door and beamed brighter than the stars when your eyes landed on him, he almost wanted to chicken out. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. His arms closed around you out of instinct, thumb rubbing over the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, nose nudging its way against your neck the way he always did when you embraced him. 

He inhaled the scent of the lotion you loved to use, that flowery one that sometimes made him sneeze. You always said you’d buy a different one the next time you went to the store, but you always forgot. He didn’t mind it at all though. A small bout of allergies was nothing compared to the inevitable smattering of apology kisses you pressed to his face when you realized you’d forgotten. 

Fuck, this was going to be way harder than he thought. 

Your hands made their way up his biceps to cup his cheeks, eyes darting around his face. “What’re you doing here? Oh my god, did we have something planned? I’m so—” 

“No.” He gave his head a shake, offering you a smile. “No, we didn’t have anything planned. I just…wanted to see you. To talk to you.” 

“Come in, come in, I was just about to start dinner,” You hummed, escaping his embrace with an arm hooked through his to tug him over the threshold. “Trying a new recipe I found the other day, not sure if it’ll turn out good or end up being a shitshow, but—well, you can help me be the judge of that, I guess!” 

“Is it okay if we talk first?” 

If you were confused, you didn’t show it, just changed direction seamlessly, making your way to the couch instead of the kitchen. You sat down, patting the cushion next to you for him to settle on and he did, rubbing his clammy palms against his thighs. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Everything was far from okay, he wanted to say. Instead he inhaled a deep breath before his next words. 

“I wanted to tell you I’m shipping out in a few weeks.” 

Your face fell a little, but you nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we do? Is there anything you can tell me? Like, what’s the best way to get in touch with you, when’s the best time, that kind of stuff? Or is sending letters better? Sorry, I feel like I’m asking a lot of questions. I don’t—I’ve never really done anything like this before, so—” 

“I think we should break up.” He blurted. 

You hesitated before answering, blinking at him like you’d somehow heard him wrong. “What?” 

“It’s hard having someone overseas for a long time, even more so when it’s a partner. It was really hard on my mom, and hard for me having to watch her worry like that for months, and I—I don’t want that for you.” He said quietly, not daring to meet your eyes until he gave his poor excuse for an explanation on why he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do to you. 

The moment he’d realized he’d fallen in love with you, he’d promised himself he would never abandon you, never break your heart or your trust, and here he was, doing that exact thing. It was tearing him apart inside. 

“I don’t want you to have to go through all that, so it’s just better if we—that we break up now. Before I go.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke just after the last word, swallowed up by a hitched inhale of a breath that had his resolve wavering just the slightest bit. He could barely look you in the eyes the whole time, and now…he didn’t think he could stand the sadness and hurt flooding every single one of your beautiful features. 

“All the worrying and the uncertainty of not knowing what’s happening, I don’t—it wouldn’t be fair to you. I care about you too much to put you through all of that.” 

You were silent for the longest time, eyes glued to the floor as you processed the information. He thought you were about to start crying with the way your brow creased, but when you finally looked back up at him, your gaze had hardened. “Did these last six months mean nothing to you? You’re just gonna throw everything away because what—you don’t think I can handle it?” 

They meant everything to me, he wanted to say. You mean everything to me. 

If he was really being honest with himself, it was him who couldn’t handle it. Still, he forged on, thinking it best to just rip off the bandaid. He could live with being the asshole if it meant sparing you from the terrible experience of him being god knows how many miles away for months. 

“I’m sorry. I wish you nothing but happiness, Y/N. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you.” 

“You wish me nothing but happiness?” You chuckled humorlessly, shaking your head. Bradley’s eyes tracked you across the room as you paced back and forth, guilt ridden expression on full display. All he wanted to do was take all of it back; to kiss you senseless and tell you everything was going to work out, but he couldn’t. He’d burned the bridge, cut the rope. Broke your heart. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He probably was. “Screw you, Bradley. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was all he could say. 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

“Y/N, I—” 

You rushed at him, pushing, shoving, sending him stumbling step by step towards the front door until he almost crashed into it had he not managed to pull it open a split second before you shoved him outside. He’d never forget the look of betrayal in your eyes right before you slammed the door in his face. 

Bradley forced his feet to take him back to his car, then to drive away before he could have a chance to even try and make things better. He’d most likely end up making things much, much worse. Though he didn’t think it could get any worse with the way he was feeling about himself right now. You were angry at him, and you had every right to be. 

But had he lingered at your door only moments after, he would’ve heard the thump against the wood that was you sliding down to the floor and the sob that escaped your mouth. 

All because of him. 

-------

Bradley was happy to finally be coming back home after ages away, but then he realized it—he didn’t have anyone to tap him out this time. His mind jumped to you first, but there was no chance in hell you’d be there for him. You’d probably moved on months ago. Forgotten about him. And with Mav away on another deployment, he really had no one. 

His chest ached the longer he stood at attention, jaw clenched tighter than he meant it to be as he watched the rest of his squad get tapped out by their loved ones. Coyote’s parents, Fanboy’s sisters, Hangman’s nieces and nephews, Phoenix’s girlfriend. They were all emotional reunions, and Bradley was happy for them, he really was. But it sucked being the one with nobody there for him. 

He wasn’t expecting the soft tap on his arm when it came. He thought it was a mistake at first; someone else’s family bumping into him accidentally, so he didn’t move. But when the hand didn’t leave its place wrapped loosely around his bicep, Bradley knew it really was for him. He turned around, squinting against the blinding sunlight to see who’d come for him. 

“Hi.” You said softly, hand dropping back down to your side. He couldn’t help but let himself take you in, eyes drinking in every single achingly familiar detail of you until you shifted nervously under his intense gaze. You looked so beautiful he almost felt dizzy, just like he remembered but at the same time somehow even better. 

“You came.” He said, disbelieving. He could still hardly believe you were actually here. 

“I promised you I would.” 

“But that—that was before…everything happened. Why are you—what’re you doing here?” The last thing he wanted to sound like was ungrateful, because he was quite literally the opposite, but his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that despite him breaking your heart seven months ago, you still remembered what you’d promised him in the very beginning of your relationship. 

“What does it mean to tap someone out?” You asked quietly, tracing a finger along the planes of Bradley’s bare chest. Your legs were tangled under the covers, both of you still basking in the aftermath of getting reacquainted with each other again after Bradley had been out of town attending a weeklong training exercise. 

His skin was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind one bit, too busy exploring the expanse of muscle shifting under his bronzed skin again. “In military terms, I mean.” 

He chuckled, hiding a content smile into the hair at the crown of your head. “That’s a weird question.” 

“Humor me, Bradshaw.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley stroked a rough palm down the smooth skin of your arm, taking a few beats to come up with an answer that would make sense. “Tapping out is a super long standing tradition in pretty much all military units, I think. It comes at the end of a mission, when we’ve come back to base.” 

His arm repositioned itself under your head as he scooted closer to the warmth radiating from your body, nose nuzzling deeper against you just so he could engrain the smell of your lingering fruity scented shampoo into his memory forever. 

How you still smelled so good even after your…physical activities just before this was beyond him, but he loved it. 

“An aviator’s loved ones are usually the ones to do it. Friends, family, those kinds of people. When you tap out your aviator, literally you’re releasing them from formation. But I guess it’s kind of a gesture that means…you’re home.” 

Your wandering fingers stilled against his skin, lingering right above his heart. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Who usually taps you out?” 

Bradley remained silent. It was an innocent question, he knew that. He’d told you a little bit about his parents, and you were just curious. Still, it sent a pang of sadness through his chest whenever he thought about what it would’ve been like if they were still around today. 

He cleared his throat, sniffing once. “Usually Mav. Or sometimes one of my squad’s family. If no one can, I just gotta wait til everyone else is done.” 

“I wanna do it.”

“What?” 

“I’m gonna be there next time you come back from a mission. To tap you out.” 

“I appreciate it, honey, I do. But you don’t need to.” 

“I want to.” You said firmly, pulling away from him to prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye. You looked damn serious too. He raised a quizzical brow. “You said that to tap someone out means to tell them they’re home. I want to be the one to tell you you’re home. Here. With me.” 

Bradley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped shut when no words came out. He really was at a loss for words. No one had ever done that before. Sure, Mav’s offer was always a good one to fall back on, but Bradley had never had someone he cared about as much as he did about you telling him they were going to be there for him. 

The next best thing he could think of instead of saying anything at all was to kiss you. So he did. 

He pushed himself up towards you, sliding a hand around the nape of your neck and pressing his lips against yours. Not bruisingly hard, but enough to let you know he was all in. The other hand curled around your shoulder, splaying across your back to bring you back in closer to him, until your chests were flush and you could feel his heartbeat thundering under your palm.

He was home. You were his home. 

“I told you I’d be here to tap you out, and I meant it.” You said simply, holding his gaze. “I keep my promises, Bradshaw. Even after the way you left things.” 

Red hot guilt crept its way through his chest like vines, bringing all the memories of the last time you saw each other right back up to the surface, even after how hard he’d tried to shove them all down. If there was one thing he regretted in life, it was how he left you that night. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that one. 

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N, I—” 

“Then let me say something.” You blurted, wringing your hands. Bradley nodded instantly, still too dumbfounded to reply. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to you today for months. I don’t even know if I should.” 

“You should.” He encouraged, nodding quickly. He’d always wanted you to be able to speak your mind with him. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear it.” 

“Okay. Okay, well first of all, you’re an asshole, Bradley.” 

He nodded again. He deserved at least that much. “I am. Absolute asshole, I know.” 

“But I never stopped loving you. Even though I was angry and sad and confused as fuck as to why you would do that to me, I still loved you. And eventually, I realized that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. You were scared. Of losing me, of me losing you. So you decided it was your responsibility to pull the ripcord before you crashed and burned.” Bradley winced slightly at the comparison and you grimaced at your own poor choice in words. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s okay. You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“You said you didn’t want me to worry while you were gone, well, I did that anyways.” You chuckled, like you were remembering a fond memory instead of the constant state of anxiety you’d been in. “But instead of worrying that the man I love might not make it home, I was terrified that if you didn’t come home, I’d spend my whole life replaying our last conversation in my head. Wondering if there was something I could’ve said or done so you wouldn’t have given up on us so easily.” 

“You think that was easy for me? Sweetheart, walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life.” 

“Sure seemed pretty easy.” You scoffed lightly, only a tad spiteful. A low blow, you realized, when Bradley stiffened for a split second, but you held steady. 

“It wasn’t.” His reply was immediate and firm as could be, but somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. “You have to understand, breaking things off was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t—I thought that if I didn’t, you’d wait for me.” 

“I would’ve waited, Bradley! I did wait for you! For you, I'd wait forever because I love you, but you didn’t even give me that choice. You made the decision on your own instead of talking to me about it. That was what hurt the most.”  

“I’m sorry.” Bradley said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced through yours almost tentatively, feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. There was a point in your life where you never thought that concept would apply to Bradley. “I never should’ve left like that, I wish I could take it all back.” 

“I think I understand now why you did it. I understand that fear that comes with the experience of losing a loved one like that. But Bradley, you’re not responsible for my feelings. And I don’t care how scared you get, I’m not going anywhere. From now on, we work things out together, no matter what you think is best.” 

“From now on? Does that mean…?” 

“You’re my home, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley took your face in his hands and he kissed you, long and hard, pouring every ounce of pent up feelings he’d been bottling up for the past seven months into it. Pain, fear, love, hope—all of it. You were never one to believe in such emotion being able to convey itself through a simple physical action, but now you could honestly say you understood it. 

Your hands spread across the broadness of his back, fingers pressing into the crisp starch of his uniform like you were afraid of letting him go , even though he was home and everything was okay now. Losing him the first time made you angry. You didn’t even want to imagine possibly losing him a second time. 

He drew back, only far enough to press his lips to your forehead, hands still holding you close as could be. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises.” 

“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the squad.” He said softly, lacing his fingers through yours. The way he all but bounded over to the group of aviators a little ways away was almost boyish, as was the excitement in his voice when he approached them. “Hey everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bradley announced, sliding a hand around to the small of your back. 

Everyone’s eyes turned on you, conversations petering to a gradual stop as they looked between you and Bradley. You shifted nervously, suddenly feeling unsure with all the attention on you, but Bradley’s thumb rubbed along your skin, soothing you just a bit. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” 

The tall blond reacted the quickest, snapping loudly before aiming a finger in your direction, along with a shiny smile. “Wait, I know you! You’re the one in that photo Rooster keeps tucked in his helmet. Lemme tell you, he looked at that picture every damn day, it was like—” 

Bradley let out a very forced laugh, aiming a not-so-subtle daggered glare at the other man. “Okay, Hangman! That’s okay, I really don’t think—” 

“You’re a real saint, taking this one back. If I ever pulled the shit he did, my car would’ve been keyed to all hell when I came home.” Hangman chuckled, giving his head a shake. 

“Hangman. Shut. Up.” 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!” 

“You’re the only one talking!” 

“Alright, alright, you’re both grown men here,” The dark haired woman sighed, turning towards you. “At least, I hope so.” 

You chuckled at that, casting a glance over at Bradley to find him already looking back at you, the back and forth with Hangman already long forgotten given the way he was smiling at you, like you were the force that made the world go round. Taking you in under his arm, he dotted a kiss to your hairline as your fingers came up to intertwine with his again, watching you interact with his squad like you’d known them for years. 

It was everything he ever wanted. And now that he had it, he’d never be dumb enough to let it go again. 

His mind drifted back to his parents’ fate— how they never got to live out their life together. How there was no guarantee about anything when it came to Bradley’s own fate with you.

And sure, it was scary to be so uncertain about the future, but you’d both climb that hill together when the time came. For now, Bradley could let himself be content. This second chance at a life with you wasn’t one he was planning on taking lightly, not by a long shot. 

“Let’s get off this damn carrier and hit the town! Drinks at the Hard Deck, last one there buys the first round!” Hangman’s drawling voice drew Bradley out of his thoughts, just in time to let the words sink in.

You, on the other hand, stifled a giggle at the sight of seeing a group of full grown adults scatter as fast as Bradley’s friends did. Watching Hangman nearly shove Coyote to the ground upon seeing their cars were parked next to each other was something you’d never not get a kick out of. 

But Bradley, he didn’t seem as worried about it all. In fact, he walked leisurely with your hand firmly in his, swinging both of them between the two of you as you made your way to your own car. 

“Aren’t you worried you’ll be the last one there?” 

“I’ll buy the round, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I wanna spend some time with my girl.” 

“Your girl.” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gotta say, I’ve missed hearing that.” 

“I’ve missed saying it. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, honey. Starting with, do you or do you not have a voodoo doll made in my image that you stabbed with pins when I was away because I broke your heart?” 

You scoffed, letting out a not so attractive snort. “Bradley, I mean this in the most respectful way possible—what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get that idea?”

“I—uh, I had a dream about it? A few weeks into deployment.” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You don’t, right?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You replied, giving his chest a firm pat. You didn’t have a voodoo doll of him, of course, but playing along was worth it just to see Bradley squirm. 

“Wait, wait, wait, but you didn’t say no.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“So you do?” 

“I didn’t say that either. But if you’re not sure, I’d watch yourself the next couple weeks.” 

His brows furrowed in confusion and a bit of fear as he watched you walk away from him with some bounce to your step. “I…really don’t like the sound of that. Hang on, get back here. Explain, please!” 

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[papayadays]

🎻 74 + alex or oscar (whoever you think fits best!)

a/n: oh i loved writing this ☺️ soft domestic oscar my beloved (i was torn between alex and oscar, but ultimately choose oscar. can you tell i have a mclaren bias? 😵‍💫)

74 - this is what forever feels like by jvke & nick jonas

“love?” you glanced up upon hearing oscar’s voice, seeing him walk towards you, rubbing his eyes. it was darker than usual since you hadn’t bothered turning the lights on, opting to light some candles instead. “what are you doing?” it was one in the morning, and you had decided to head to the kitchen after you woke up, not wanting to bother oscar and not tired enough to go back to sleep.

“sorry to wake you up,” you apologized. “i just couldn’t fall back asleep. don’t worry about me, you can go back to sleep.” you turned your attention back to the hot chocolate you were making, but oscar didn’t budge. “osc?”

“i’ll just wait here with you,” he said groggily. “can’t really sleep without you.” you chuckled, a fond smile on your face.

“well, it’s a good thing i made extra,” you said quietly. as you added marshmallows, you could feel oscar’s gaze on you from here he was leaning against the island.

you handed oscar a mug, who gave you a soft, “thank you.” instinctively, you two lifted up your mugs for a silent toast.

“your hot chocolate is always so good,” oscar murmured, taking a long sip.

“it’s just normal hot chocolate,” you laughed, leaning against his shoulder. oscar’s arm reached out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you to his side.

when you two finished and set your mugs down, you took oscar’s hands. “dance with me,” you suggested, though oscar wasn’t convinced.

“why? it’s one in the morning, sweetheart,” he protested, though you both knew he would cave eventually. “and there’s no music.” you grabbed your phone, the light casting a soft glow on your face.

“that can be easily solved,” you said, opening your spotify playlist and hitting shuffle. a slow, relaxed song came on - you were pretty sure it was by jvke and a jonas brother - and again, you reached for oscar’s hands.

until we’re seventy, dancing with me

this time, however, he let you lead him to an open area in the entryway between the kitchen and dining room. the lyrics of the song wove into the moment, as the flickering candlelight made oscar look perfect. you wrapped your arms around his neck, feel his told tighten around your waist as you two swayed to the song.

just passing the time, with you right by my side

you felt oscar rest his chin on your shoulder as he pulled you impossibly closer. “this is a pretty good way to waste our time,” he mumbled, the vibrations from his chest reaching you.

just stay with me, promise you’ll never leave

“is it a waste of time?” you countered with a sleepy smile. “because i rather like this, us dancing for no reason.”

oscar nodded into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss. “you’re right, it’s totally productive work,” he deadpanned, making you snort.

“exactly,” you agreed, running with his joke as oscar twirled you around. despite the odd hour, you were happy to just be here with oscar, even if it meant less sleep.

i wanna love you for the rest of my life, until we’re seventy

joyce's birthday bash! 😽

[kaitsawamura]

-> somebody come get her (she's dancing like a stripper)

-> SUMMARY

You have bills to pay. That's the only thing on your mind when you go in for your shift at the strip club. The only thing on your mind until you see Daichi.

Daichi doesn't expect to find you, the girl of his dreams, at the strip club. In fact, he's 99% certain he shouldn't be here. But now he can't stop thinking of all the things he'd let you do to him.

Will your mutual attraction pay off for the both of you?

-> STATS

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Stripper!Reader (get that bread!)

Rating: M for Mature, MDNI

Warnings: My take on a corruption kink except Daichi's the one getting corrupted

Tags: Corruption, strangers to lovers, smut I tell you, filthy filthy smut with my husband, strip club au, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, a bit of choking (like a tiny bit), hair pulling, nasty nasty f*cking with my husband, sex in public (sorta, it's in a public restroom), a little dominant confident Reader (if I missed anything y'all can let me know in the DM's)

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: I knew the moment I saw Mint's post . : HERE : . that I had to write something about it. They obligingly gave me the go ahead to be inspired so off I went a-writing. Obviously, this might be considered mild corruption by some but to me? This was like I went into a blackout and woke up not knowing what year it was. So, here you go, enjoy some nasty filthy smut with my love!

-> LINKS

Main Masterlist

HQ Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

“Rent’s due on Monday,” your roommate reminds you, concern masked with sympathy clear on her face. She’s not trying to be mean or overbearing but damn it, the stress of the situation makes you want to snark back. But you don’t.

“Do you have your half?” She nods. You nod back decisively. “I’m working tonight. Fridays are good days to work. It’s my first one without shadowing anyone. I’ll have the rest of my half in tips, don’t worry.” Her face brightens as she pours herself a glass of orange juice, sunlight streaming in the kitchen window of the tiny two-bedroom apartment you share with her.

“Thank god. The landlord’s being an ass again. We’ve been late one time. I have half a mind to give him a list of all the things wrong in this shithole instead of the check.” You roll your eyes conspiratorially but in reality, you don’t know if you’ll make your half in tips or not. Maybe your boss will give you an advance. You’ll talk to him tonight. He was surprisingly reasonable so the odds were at least in your favor.

Either way, you’ll get the money. You just hope you’ll be able to put the nervous energy thrumming through your veins to good use.

Daichi Sawamura should not have come here tonight. The guys in the office had convinced him, said there was a new pretty girl who was exactly his type. But this place was not the sort he was used to coming to. It wasn’t that this establishment was a bad one or that he had any problem with it; people had to make money how they could. Empowerment and autonomy and all that. It was more that he felt a little inadequate if he was being completely honest with himself. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone from here. He was used to good girls, the ones who had a routine and didn’t like anything too kinky. Which was also fine. But there were things he wanted to try, had a suspicion he would like that he just couldn’t ask of anyone he’d been with. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realizing the conversation he was having completely in his head was stressing him out.

“Dai, bro, just relax. She’s pretty. You better tip her good but you don’t have to talk to anyone but me and the bartender if you don’t want to. Just enjoy the show.” Kuroo smirks at his friend; it has been a long week. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve to wind down. Part of him just wishes he was doing it in the comfort of his home, with his favorite ramen from around the corner and a good movie. But who knows, maybe he’s getting complacent.

So he sits in the seat Kuroo has pulled out for him, a front-row spot directly in the middle of the runway. Right in front of the center pole. The seats are comfortable and he’s got a whiskey neat in his hands. He can feel a little of the stress release from the muscles in his traps, can feel his jaw unclench just in the slightest as the first warm sip of whiskey flows down his throat.

This is fine, he reassures himself, pushing work from his brain. Kuroo takes a sip from his own drink, a fruity one that he insists is the most delicious ever but is just a little too sweet for Daichi. The place is in a lull right now, preparing for the next act. But soon there’s a growing murmur from the back. Someone whistles, and a few others catcall. Daichi bristles just a bit, but he can’t even see anything until you hit the steps and it’s then that Kuroo elbows him.

“That’s her,” he says, raising his voice so Daichi can hear over the now thrumming bass. He feels it in his toes, in his chest, in his head. But your steps, the bounce of your tits in a skimpy bright blue bikini top, he feels in his dick. It barely covers anything, just like the matching bottoms. Cute little bows keep them on your hips and your heels are a deep black. As you get closer, your walk slow and sensuous, he can see the peep toe and your fresh French manicure poking through. He tries to adjust his navy suit pants with little success. He’s in so much fucking trouble.

You strut up the steps, the blinking LED strips embedded into the floor blinking in rhythm with the bass and the rhythm of your hips. You put a little bit of extra attitude into the sway tonight, praying to any higher power that will listen that tonight will be a good one for tips, even though it’s your first show without any supporting performers. Part of you gets it; you’re new. The owner has to make sure you know how to use those doe eyes and amazing tits properly. The other part of you, the one that knows you’re hot and knows exactly what you’re doing, wanted to smirk a little when your boss had said you wouldn’t get a Friday on your own until you’d completed two weeks of bartending and shadowing.

Your hard work has paid off though, and when you take your place at the center of the runway, you know you have your audience hooked even before dancing. There’s one guy in particular, right below you. He got arguably the best seat in the house along with his friend. You’ve seen the friend before, all confidence, slicked-back black hair, and a steamy attractive smile. Your coworkers say he’s pretty regular and always tips well. Thank god. The one next to him though, you don’t know anything about him except for the fact that the five stages of something flow across his face as you make eye contact with him. The low lighting does nothing to hide the blush flushing from the open neck of his crisp white button up to his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He’s got a wad of cash already set casually on the bar top in front of him.

You smile, bright and unguarded, knowing. You’ll have the rest of Monday’s rent if he’s an indication of the rest of the customers that will be coming in tonight. He turns away, uncomfortable. Aw, how sweet. So unlike some of the slimy patrons you’re used to. Something you don’t like trips low in your belly. The biggest rule was no sex with any of the customers. It was in place for a reason and a majority of the time was a good one. You remind yourself of it as the song for your first dance starts playing over the speakers.

Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it

Is you fuckin’? Two shots, fuck it

You take a deep breath, hands on the shiny silver pole, and wrap one leg around it. The metal is cold to the touch but something else has goosebumps crawling up your bare skin. When you spin, turning in the new guy’s direction, your suspicions are confirmed that the feeling is not the rest of the eyes on you but his. And his are suddenly, somehow, the only eyes you want to perform for. So you do.

Daichi can feel Kuroo snap to attention next to him; he can’t blame him. You’re stunning and you know it. You look like maybe you shouldn’t know how to do this so well, but none of that matters as all coherent thoughts leave Daichi’s head when you spin and drop, rolling your hips so your ass faces him. You turn and look at him as you rise slowly, a deliciously naughty smile still all over that pretty little mouth. He rushes to take a sip of his drink, drums his fingers on the bartop, runs them through his hair, anything to occupy his hands. Because he knows the only place they really should be is all over you. Oh, the things he would let you do to him. He’d do anything for you. He takes another gulp of whiskey, disappointed when he drains the heavy glass.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He knew you were making eye contact with him but when you get on all fours and crawl to him like some lethal jungle cat, the end of the song nearing, he knows he’s in for it. And he’s okay with that. Any doubts he had, about being here at least, have vanished completely. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he leans forward to meet you where you are at the edge of the stage. The crowd is roaring around him, the cheers only growing louder at the chemistry shooting like electricity through the air between the two of you. They’re jealous cheers he thinks, although he’s sure as hell not looking away long enough to check anyone’s expressions to confirm.

“Got anything good for me, pretty boy?” Your voice is pitched low as you blink big eyes at him, a smirk playing on your lips. Because, goddammit, he is pretty. Prettier than any other patrons you’d ever catered to. You would not mind if he came to be one of your regulars, regardless of any funds that might be exchanged. You would not mind if he came regularly—in your cunt, on your ass, on your tongue… A girl could take her pick with a man like him. Thick dark hair, glittering brown eyes, full lips. A barrel chest and wide shoulders to boot. No sex with the customers, no sex with the customers, no sex with the customers…

You watch, heat pooling low in your belly, as he unbinds the cash you had noticed earlier. You can’t quite figure him out. Because he’s making eye contact with you as he spreads the folded bills, licks his thumb, and pulls out two crisp Benjamins but there is a nervous tremor in his large hands as he passes the bills to you. Your eyes widen, the act dropping momentarily before you catch yourself and push out your bottom lip in a pout.

“Hm, a girl should get a little more than that for such a good performance, don’t you think?” You are completely used to this, the schpeel. You’ve done it thousands of times at the last place you worked and hundreds more at this club. It’s part of the persona within these walls. Mystery man is apparently not used to acting this way. You can see the war within him as you take the bills and he leans back, trying to be casual but every line of him is taught like a rubber band about to break.

“You here all night?” Don’t give anyone your schedule. If they like you enough, they’ll figure it out on their own by being a regular paying customer. You nod, liking this new game. Toeing around something you would normally consider dangerous, if only for all the variables far out of your control. But that makes it all the more fun, especially when he clicks his tongue behind his teeth and replies “Good, then so am I. I have more where that came from. Do you?”

Kuroo is watching the interaction with a gaping mouth. Daichi doesn’t have a clue where this new side of him is coming from. Except. Except he does. And it feels damn good. Despite being sure it is glaringly obvious that he is leaping so far out of his comfort zone, you seem to be very receptive. He shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of staying all night. He could use some sleep. But he could also use that mouth around his cock. You probably have rules, rules that should be followed, for your safety. Daichi knows he’s safe, but you don’t. He most definitely should not ask for your number or give you his or ask what time you’re off. You shouldn’t answer him.

But you do, nodding earnestly when he asks if you’ll be here all night. He has no choice. There’s something about you that he can’t shake off. The extra cash is of no consequence to him, and maybe, just maybe… No, he won’t let that thought go further. He won’t imagine how you’d look on your knees, or bouncing on his cock. He won’t imagine you writhing beneath him or securing him to his headboard with those cuffs he’d bought but never gotten to use. He won’t imagine you breathily calling him pretty boy again even though, fuck, he wishes you would so, so bad.

“What’s your name,” you ask before you can stop yourself, before you rise to your feet. The rules here are good ones, meant to keep both the patrons and performers safe.  You’d worked at other establishments before that didn’t care so much about safety so much as they cared about money.  Your radar has never been off in the past and maybe that shouldn’t be enough for you but everything about Mystery Man makes you want to break every rule ever set before you.  There’s something about him that makes you want to risk it all.  You want to hear him whimper and you’d place bets that you could get him to do it in record time.  Even now, his breathing is shallow and he seems unable to answer you.  His friend leans over, elbowing him into action.

“His name’s Daichi.  And mine’s Kuroo.  Ya know, in case you wanted to know.”  His smile is genuine, not creepy at all.  You return the grin as you stand before turning back to Daichi.  He straightens a little, snapped back to reality by his friend.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to Kuroo.  He is attractive, just not who you have your eyes set on.  But it’s good information to pass along to your coworkers.  Judging by his tailored suit that fits just as good as Daichi’s, you’d wager his job pays like his friend’s.  The music swells again, the DJ cueing to your next song.  “Kuroo, make sure your friend doesn’t go anywhere.  Tonight’s for him.”  Kuroo scoffs in friendly disbelief at Daichi’s luck.

“I’m hauling you to the club more often,” he says to Daichi, who flashes a quick small smile.  Oh god, that smile could bring anyone you know to their knees.  It could certainly do it to you.  That smile alone could get you to do anything Daichi would ask.  You point at Kuroo as you take your place at the center pole again.

“I’m holding you to that, Kuroo.”  You brace your hands one over the other on the pole, and shake your ass for all it’s worth.

Body crazy, curvy, wavy, big titties, little waist.

Daichi’s going to have a stroke, he just knows it.  He can feel the veins in his forehead and neck bulging.  The blood has flowed elsewhere too.  His cock is so hard it feels painful.  There are several different ways he could get relief, most of which he should not be considering seeking in a public area.  But it’s unbearable and there’s no way he’s going to let himself come in front of all these other people.  He waits for the end of your current number and then he’s standing so fast his chair screeches out behind him; a couple of people look his way but for the most part, you’ve got everyone’s attention.  Kuroo glances sideways at his friend; he doesn’t say anything, just smirks as Daichi tosses another hundred on the bar top, telling Kuroo to give it to you before rushing to the bathroom.

He makes his way down the hall and notices there are several doors marked RESTROOM in bold capital letters.  Thank god there are single-person stalls.  He stumbles into one, shutting the door and locking it with shaking hands.  The music is still audible, even here; it seems to have dropped to a low steady hum.  Intermission.  Perfect.  Daichi turns to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, one last attempt to snap himself out of this fucking trance.  Because that’s what this has to be.  He’s getting all hot and bothered over someone who he doesn’t even know.  And god, he wants to think that you like him but he knows he’s tipping good and he’s not one of those creeps that can’t recognize it’s your fucking job.

The image in the mirror is one that almost shocks him; his eyes are glazed, and his hair’s a mess.  Just once, he just needs to come once and then he can stay here until the end of the night like he said he would.  He’ll tip you like a good customer would.  Then he’ll leave and he’ll never come back.  Because this?  This is Daichi out of control and he’s not sure that’s a good thing.  Maybe he should go back to making love to nice girls in his king-sized bed.  Yes, that’s what he’ll do.  He’ll leave here and he won’t come back and he’ll never think of you again.

Daichi unbuckles his belt, the metal of the buckle clanking as he yanks his zipper down.  He lets out a pained breath, his cock straining against his underwear.  He slips his hand into the elastic band, taking it into his hand and bringing it out into the air.  He backs up to the wall, the cool air offering little comfort for the engorged head, and closes his fist around himself.  A breath comes fast and heavy out of his mouth as he starts jacking himself off slowly, trying to make the moment last.

You watch as Daichi stands abruptly, so quickly and sharply that he almost topples his chair over.  You watch as he tosses another bill on the bar top, leaning in to say something to Kuroo.  You watch as he throws one last glance your way before beelining to the bathrooms.  Idiot.  Absolute idiot is what you are because you’re making your way off the runway, ignoring the audience as a low boo goes through the crowd.  Your boss catches your eye from the end of the bar and waves you over.

“What the hell is going on?”  It’s not said unkindly but more with an air of annoyance.  This is your first Friday night on your own and you might be blowing it.  But you don’t care.  You put on a fake wince and point at your head, trying to look as contrite and imploring as possible.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s my first Friday and I’m so grateful.  But I’ve really gotta pee and I’ve got this horrible headache starting.  Can I take ten?  Just ten minutes, enough time for an ibuprofen to set in while I go to the bathroom, and then I’ll be back out.  Please.”  You put those big eyes back to use, blinking slow and tilting your head slightly like you’re trying to relieve the pain of your fake headache.  Your boss squints his eyes but doesn’t protest as he pulls a bottle of Advil from behind the bar.  He hands you a couple with a glass of water.

“Ten minutes.  Go to the bathroom.  Take a breather.  Then get your ass back out there.  I’ve seen the business you’re encouraging after two sets.  You’ll be back up there as one of my main performers if you keep up the good work.”  You smile as you throw the pills back with the water and hurry in the direction of the restroom, pulling on one of the extra robes from the bar.  Now to find Daichi.

A couple is making out in the hallway; you brush past them and knock quietly on the first door.  A voice answers quickly that the stall is occupied but it’s not Daichi’s voice.  You knock on two more doors before getting to the last one.  You suppose he could have gone into the multi-stall restroom but you’d seen the look on his face when he’d stood and you’d bet all the cash he’d given you so far that he wasn’t coming back here to take a piss.  You rap your knuckles on the last single-person stall.  You’re rewarded with his voice coming from the other side.

“There’s someone-ha-there’s someone in here!”  He can barely get the words out; you know what’s going on in that stall and you want to help.  You rub your thighs together, realizing you’re already getting wet.

“Daichi, it’s me.”  This is stupid.  Maybe he doesn’t even like you that much.  Maybe you’re just some stripper at a strip club.  There’s a heavy silence now, almost solid enough that you could cut it with a knife.  Another pause and you’re getting ready to leave, cursing your confidence for all that it’s getting you, but then you hear the click of the door unlocking.  He opens it but only just so.  Still, it’s an invitation and one you are eager to accept.  You open the door just wide enough to slip through to shield yourself from any potential wandering eyes in the hall.  The scene inside the stall nearly wrecks you.

Daichi has backed up against the wall, as far away from you as humanly possible.  It’s so obvious that he’s been jacking himself off. His hair is messy, his eyes wild like he was already on the brink. He’s desperately trying to cover his cock with his hands and even though they’re large, they can’t cover it completely. You meet his gaze, which he tries to avoid, his eyes fluttering left then right with shame, before finally settling on you. Something trips across your skin.

“Babe, let me help you with that,” you whisper as you direct your line of sight to his cock. It twitches as you move closer, slowly, as if you’re approaching a cornered animal. Daichi groans a little when you reach him, one hand steadying on his shoulder and the other reaching up to touch his face.

“This is—this is not what it looks like, I swear. I promise I’m not some creep, I just—” You put a single finger softly to his lips, making sure he’s got his eyes on you. They widen just a bit. In the brighter light of the bathroom, you can see how rich the color of his irises are, golden brown like sunlight streaming through an autumn wood, or espresso, or something corny like that. Fuck the rules.

“Daichi, can I kiss you?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. His mouth drops open but his eyes rove from yours down to your lips, then your covered chest, and back up. Finally, he nods so you guide his face down to yours and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and pliable. He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, so unlike the image he’d put out walking in this place with his fine, tailored suit and stack of cash. Your hand slips from his shoulder and moves down the ridge of his pectoral, then lower still to the hard planes of his stomach. You trail your fingers over the now wrinkled fabric, close to his undone belt and open pants. His cock jumps against your abdomen past his hands and he gasps. “Is this okay?” You ask the question, certain that Daichi just needs the chance to give in. He nods again so you smooth your hand lower until it wraps around his cock.

Daichi’s head thunks against the wall of the bathroom as another sharp breath explodes from his open mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he growls quietly. You move your hand experimentally, softly, swiping your thumb across the head, gathering the bit of precome at the tip and smearing it about. You can’t decide what you want to look at more: the red bleeding over Daichi’s skin from the neck up, his heaving chest, or how his cock looks in your hands. He’s so… responsive. Each turn of your wrist has him shuddering beneath you. More. You need more. You want to see him beg. And part of you also realizes that he needs this too. You drop to your knees and his eyes snap back open as he watches you. “What’re you doing?”

“Only what you want me to do, Daichi. Unless you don’t want me to?” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s shaking his head. He wraps his hand around yours, enveloping it, and moves it once, twice, over himself. A thought occurs to you, one you’re denying even as you ask him “Daichi, have you ever come down anyone’s throat?” The answer is obvious but you still feel incredulous as he tells you no. The veins in his hands are bulging and he’s still, like the calm before the storm. You lean in, maintaining eye contact, as you blow a breath over his cock. “Do you want to?”

It’s like you flipped a switch. Daichi, slowly now so you have time to pull away if you want to, curls his fingers in your hair, stroking them along your scalp. “Yes, please.” He whispers it, certain this is a dream. This has to be a fucking dream. He’s had a blow job before but never has he ever asked to come in someone’s mouth. He’s a clean guy but he’s not clueless; he just assumed most people thought it was gross and never had a problem with the fact that no one wanted to do that. At least not anyone he had been with. But, oh, he’d thought about it, lots of times. Most of those times in one night.

His pupils are blown wide as you lick your lips and take just the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. His skin is smooth, molten hot. The way your eyes never leave his is something else entirely and when you hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat to take all of him, he thinks he might die. He’s trying to maintain some semblance of control but it is already dwindling to nothing. There’s a coil building in his abdomen. Not yet he thinks viciously. Not yet. You take a few more pulls before releasing him with a pop. Frantic, he feels frantic. Maybe you decided you didn’t want to do this and he’d have to be okay with that, he couldn’t blame you but god damn—

“Daichi, eyes on me.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he locks in on you again. “Let go, babe. Show me how you want it. Pull my hair. Set the pace. And when you’re gonna come, you come down my throat. Nowhere else, you got it? I’ve got five more minutes. Think we can get you there, pretty boy?” He nearly blacks out when you say those words he needed to hear again. Oh, yes, yes he’s sure you can. His eyes search yours once more before fisting his hand in your hair, tightening experimentally. You smile around his cock, deep-throating him once more, but waiting expectantly. He’s not going to come back from this. You’ve ruined anyone else for him. And he’s accepted his fate.

The moment he lets go, the moment he breaks down whatever wall is holding him in place, you can sense it. You place your hands on his thighs as he pulls you nearly all the way off before shoving you back down. Your eyes water just a bit but you feel the slick gather between your thighs. Yes, the girl inside of you that wants to see him to the end hisses. He sets the pace, a strong and quick one, but somehow still gentle. If you said you needed to stop now, you somehow know he’d do so immediately. He twists a little more, angling your head just how he wants it. You set your teeth down ever so lightly just to see….

Daichi whimpers and gasps, the sound nearly a sob on his lips. You swirl your tongue again and suck. “Ha—shit. Just. Just like that,” he grits out as he grips tighter. It hurts a little, your hair and your knees, but the pain swirls with the pleasure in a delicious slide of skin against skin. Your nails dig into his thighs again before he takes one of your hands and closes it around the base of his cock. You grip, working your wrist along with your mouth. He bucks against you, a jerky movement. “I’m close, fuckfuckfuck I’m close. I’m gonna come.” His voice lies somewhere between a bark and a whine. He can’t decide if he wants you closer, or farther, to stop or keep going. His brain is short-circuiting. He tries to pull back just a little bit, but you won’t let him in the best way possible.

You quirk your wrist and tilt your head in just a certain way… Daichi cries out, long and broken, as he curls in over you, his orgasm washing over him in waves so intense his vision goes black. His entire body shudders with his release, his form towering over you as he spurts ropes of come all the way down your throat. You milk him for all he’s worth. Not a single drop is getting away from you, no way in hell. Next time, you want him to come in your pussy. Next time? God, you want there to be a next time. He’s still leaning over you when his breathing slows and steadies; his hands are bracing themselves on your back rubbing soothing circles there with his thumbs. He helps you to your legs and steadies you for a moment.

The silence stretches on as you look at each other, both a little shocked at what just conspired. Daichi slowly puts himself back into his pants and you help him buckle his belt. You’re both on the verge of saying something either extremely brave or extremely stupid with each moment that passes. You’re about to make the first move again when he reaches up and takes your jaw in his hand, running a thumb along the corner of your mouth to gently push the last of his spend into your mouth. You lean into the touch and welcome his finger, sucking it clean just like his dick. He thinks he might be in love with you.

A breathless giggle comes out of you as you back away just a fraction, trying to give yourself space from the startling sensation fluttering in your stomach like butterflies. Your boss is gonna kick your ass if you don’t get back out on the floor. “I would invite you to my place to continue this after I’m off but it’s a little crowded and the walls are thin,” you say, hoping against hope that he wants more just as much as you do. There’s no room for doubt when he leans in and kisses you, deep and slow, tasting himself in your mouth.

“That’s no problem, princess. If you’re still feeling this when you’re off, I’ve got a penthouse all to myself.” Oh, there it is—the swagger you expected him to have. Your eyes glitter as you smooth out your hair, knowing it still looks good enough to perform. If anything, the smell of sex and the appearance of your swollen lips will get you better money, as long as your boss doesn’t catch on. You don’t think he will. “I’ll find you at the end of the night.” You nod, suddenly the bashful one.

Somehow, everything that just transpired did so all in your ten-minute break. In fact, you have one minute to spare as you strut back to the runway, giving your boss a wink and blowing a kiss to the stupefied audience.

“Harder, Daichi, harder.” You can barely get the words out as he thrusts inside of your aching cunt. Your face is pushed into the pillows on Daichi’s king-sized bed, your ass in the air. The sound of skin slapping on skin in the quiet of his room is pornographic but you can’t waste any thoughts on being even remotely embarrassed. Tears stream down your face as he continually hits that spot inside of you that you’ve only been able to hit with a dildo and even then it never came close to this. Daichi’s a machine, the way he keeps going. After you sucked him off and he came so quickly earlier in the night, he was determined to make this one last longer. One of his hands is gripping tightly into the plush of where your hip meets your ass cheek, the other is splayed over your back, even now caressing the skin, alighting it with goosebumps. “Oh, fuuuuuck,” you whine as that same hand snakes around to your neck to pull you up.

His fingers and palm ghost over the skin as he thrusts up into you and it’s all you can do to hold to his thighs for dear life, your nails digging in so hard you’ll know they’ll leave a mark. “Are you close, princess?” He whispers it labored into your ear, his breath hot, his mouth even hotter as he leans in to nip at your pulse point from behind. You nod frantically, almost unable to answer. “Can I come inside, baby? Will you let me? Will you let me be a good boy for you?” His hand moves from your throat to your clit, stroking one slow circle over the oversensitive nub. Thank god for birth control.

“Yes, Daichi, yes, come in my pussy. Oh, god, yes be a good boy for me.” You squeal as he thrusts hard, once, twice, swiping his fingers over your clit again in a more concentrated pattern and you feel your first orgasm of the night sweep over you as Daichi finds his own release with a mangled, animalistic groan.  You think he’s done, especially when he pulls out leaving you feeling way too empty.  But you’re wrong, so, so wrong.  He proceeds to flip you over and push back in, a ring of white forming around where he’s begun thrusting inside of you again.  

“I thought about this all fucking night.”  He surges up over you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them above you.  “I thought about that pretty little cunt around my cock.  I thought about how pretty you’d look laying in my bed.”  One thrust, slow and teasing.  You roll your hips up to meet him, even though your thighs are weak and shaking.  “I’ve never–I’ve never fucked anyone like this before, it’s,” he leans in to suck on your pulse again, runs his tongue over the salty skin there, “magical.”  You whimper beneath him when you feel the familiar coil tightening once more in your belly.  

“Do you think I can make you come again, Daichi?  Can you come for me one more time?”  He groans, sealing his lips over yours as he releases your hands so that can pull him closer into you.  You scrape your nails from the nape of his neck into his hair, and grip, breathless, as his rhythm becomes choppy again.  God, you don’t know how he’s still going.  The two of you are so frenzied, the blood in your veins hotter than a blue flame.  “Look at me when you come, baby, look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hands to his cheeks.  His eyes are glazed, his face strained but still beautiful.  “I’m going to touch myself now, okay?”  His mouth pops open again as he nods, before watching as you wrap one arm around his shoulder and bring your other hand to your clit.  You swipe around his cock, collecting some of the mess you’ve both made there.  You know how to pleasure yourself and with Daichi’s expert stroke, it doesn’t take long before it snaps over you, the walls of your pussy squeezing around him forcing spend from him one more time.  It’s not as explosive as the first time but still enough that you can feel the wet leaking out onto his sheets.  “So good for me, Daichi, look how good you are for me,” you chant as you wring the last of the pleasure from each other.

When it’s over, he stills, pulling out of you and collapsing onto the bed beside you.  There’s a sheen of sweat covering you both.  The cool early morning air coming in Daichi’s open window creates the perfect juxtaposition of sensations.  He reaches over to trace patterns into your palm.  “Can I hold you?”  The question is so sweet, it makes you huff out a laugh.  The man just blew your back out and he asks if he can hold you.  But you are more than willing to oblige him so you roll into his open arm and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.  You wait a moment before looking up at him, relishing the feeling of his fingers now tracing patterns into your arm and shoulder.

“Didn’t you mention something about handcuffs earlier?”  He looks down at you jerkily, a sheepish grin on his face.  You smile mischievously.  You’re going to ruin him.  He’s going to let you.  And he’s going to love it.

“Let me make you breakfast first, yeah?”  You nod and breathe in the smell of him, all sex and musk and expensive cologne.  Neither one of you knows where this is going to go but right now, it doesn’t matter.  You yawn and snuggle closer.

“Just so you know,” you intone sleepily, “I like French toast.”  He laughs softly, his own body relaxing into a lazy slumber.

“Hm, French toast?  I pinned you as a pancake kinda girl.  Good thing I also like French toast and always keep the supplies in to make it.”  His breathing is slow and shallow, matching the rhythm of yours.  The sun peeks over the cityscape around you as the two of you go under, cradled in each other’s arms.

This work and its digital elements (photo credit to photographer) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2024. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[leadmetothegardenbetty]

loveeee ur fics so much do you have any other dia or passenger fic recs??

tysm anon!! <3 omg I have soooo many recs, here are some of my faves (in no particular order -- I definitely have read more than just these and you can look thru the tag "fic recs" on my blog as well):

Dinner in America:

Clit Tease - Incy Little Spider (AO3)

Without Saying - Just_Reading_Through (AO3)

i etched your name into me / call me and i'll come - x_mochii_x (AO3)

Breakfast in America - axeaxeaxe (AO3)

Polaroids - ScissorKidsCult (AO3)

The Passenger:

Lead Me Not Into Temptation - CandyassGoth (AO3)

Boudreaux Prison Blues - Incy Little Spider (AO3)

Like Splinters Under Your Skin - pissedoffeskimo (AO3)

these same roads - theappleppielifestyle (AO3)

nothing good starts in a getaway car - TheFlirtMeister (AO3)

Don't Forget the Joker - devovitsuasartes

sidewalk rule - scenedenial (AO3)

iron pills - scenedenial (AO3)

Loves me like a dog - Syntheticpalindromes (AO3)

ranson fills - Anonymous (AO3)

How doth the little Crocodile improve his shining tail - sableeclair (AO3)

annnnd Family Reunions - Incy Little Spider (AO3) which is technically both a DIA and TP rec :)

[harringtonswriting]

slowly intertwining fingers while the other is driving with rooster because he is SO a holding hands while driving kinda guy i know it in my heart and soul. thank u so much my dear bree!!! <33

Kait my love!! god you are SO right and you should say it louder bc rooster is absolutely a holding hands while driving guy <3 i feel like he just loves skin to skin contact you know? always gotta be holding his love <3 i am so sorry it took so long, but i hope you like it!

...

Sometimes, on the hard days, Bradley will ask you to drive around with him in the Bronco. He never has a destination in mind, just wanting to spend some time with the windows down and the radio on as the two of you drive aimlessly around Fightertown, or along the coast, or even into the city. Wherever the wind and the roads might take him. There was one time the two of you had ended up in Long Beach because you’d accidentally fallen asleep and Bradley had decided to follow the coastline until you woke up. You’d had a good time, of course, once you’d woken up, but that was the furthest you’d ever gone when he needed to work the next morning.

Bradley never tells you what causes the hard days, at least not right away, but you know today is a particularly bad one when he’s completely silent as he comes through the front door. Normally he tries to at least make some noise, banging his boots against the front mat or dropping his bag on the floor to make sure you knew he was there. But the complete silence, even with opening and closing the door, means today is a particularly rough one.

You’re worried, of course you’re worried, but you give him some space and let him come to you. You’ve learned during the time you’ve been dating him that trying to confront him before he’s ready–even if you’re not confronting him you know Bradley will still most likely see it that way–never ends well for either of you. So you listen to him head from the front door to the kitchen, and then up the stairs, and then the sounds of doors being open and shut.

Bradley’s changed into a t-shirt and jeans as he walks into the living room where you’re lounging on the couch, ones you’d washed earlier that day and laid out on your bed for him to change into after work. His aviators are tucked against the collar of his shirt, and he’s got two sweatshirts in his hand as he comes over to press a kiss to the top of your head. It lingers longer than normal, and you reach a hand up to cup his cheek before he moves away.

“Come for a drive with me?” he asks, voice even and lacking his normal warmth. You nod, getting up off the couch and taking the sweatshirts from him as the two of you gather your things and head out the door to the Bronco. Bradley peels out of the driveway almost as soon as your seatbelt clicks into place, slipping his sunglasses on and turning the radio on with the volume down low as he starts to drive.

His right hand is resting on the gear shift, fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm against the kitschy eight ball that he’d told you Natasha had given him as a joke once upon a time. You don’t mention how twitchy his hands are or the hard set of his jaw, but you do rest your hand on top of his where it’s palming the gear shift.

Bradley’s fingers stop tapping almost immediately, the muscles relaxing under your hand.

I’m here. I love you. It’s okay.

You don’t say the words out loud, but as you swipe your thumb along the back of his hand, you let your actions speak for you. You interlock your fingers with his but leave them where they are. Feeling the warmth of his larger, calloused hand holding yours is calming for you, and you hope it is for him right now. He normally finds any excuse he can to hold your hand in his, though normally he liked when he could hold your hand and press it to your thigh–he never even tried to be subtle about it.

But tonight, it’s more for his comfort than it is his love of your body. Bradley brings your entwined hands up to his mouth, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. His mustache scratches against your skin, but the sensation is a welcome one, a familiar comfort. It’s his answer, without words, letting you know he’s grateful you’re here. He squeezes once, twice, three times in succession, lingering kisses on each knuckle as he keeps his eyes on the road.

Bradley will talk when he’s ready. Maybe that’ll be in a few hours; maybe it won’t be for a few days. But you���re glad you’re here with him, that you’re in his Bronco with the windows rolled down and the evening air blowing cool across your skin, existing with Bradley through the good and the bad. You’ll always be here for him, and by the way he’s moved your hand to cradle it to his chest as best he can, you’re sure he knows it, too.

[not-freyja]

Omg, i'm srory, I just accidentally hit the submit button, and now you have an incomplete comment in the inbox HDJKASXK

Anyway, I'll be quick. First, thank you very much for sharing This is an Adjuration with us, it is truly AMAZING. It was a wild experience to see how the dots were connecting, especially the Ravio parts. I can't even imagine how long it took you to come up with everything.

Second, I thank Skip, for all his hard work as a Beta. Sometimes it is not easy to find the time to read

Third, I will be waiting for the continuation of the series, I couldn't help but buzz with excitement when I saw that they could or couldn't save everyone with the triforce.

fourth, HOW COULD YOU AAAaa When Red died, I was so surprised that I read it three times HDSJKjk, when the captain died I went blank (I cried), when Twi died my face was D: then violet died but he revived and everything was fine, 'ND THEN YOU DECIDED TO KILL HYRULE WAT

And I loved it. It's rare to see fics that dare to kill their characters, seeing a lu fic like that was so good. The multiple loops happening simultaneously was beautiful, I loved seeing our two manipulative gremlins (Ravio and Vio) because they were actually using the entire situation to their advantage while lying to everyone's faces.

The warriors plot hurt me a lot, every time they came back more and more years passed, god. And yet, I think you interpreted him very well. That game is so crazy that taking it seriously leaves you with very broken characters.

And lastly, I wanted to mention how absolutely beautiful the relationship between the entire chain was. A true family, a pack of links. Thanks for the fic, really.

So it took me literally months to answer this, let’s not talk about that. Heh. Hehe. Anyway!

First, no thank you for reading! And telling me about reading! It makes me very happy to know that my work means something. Makes it feel like it’s worth it. Or something. Idk.

Second, @needfantasticstories HEY SKIPPY GET LOVED ON BITCH (affectionate)

Third, the Epilogues are kicking my ass, but we will persevere! More soon! Allegedly! I hope! And yeah, it really mattered to me that actions were permanent, and that magic couldn’t fix everything. Because the themes.

Fourth, IM SORRY OKAY I HAD TO FOR THE PLOT! OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN I DID YOU SO BAD FORGIVE ME BABYGIRL!

Shout out to the Purple Plot, indeed. Love me a manipulative bitch. Love me a caddy gay. Love me someone who lies to your face and helps you behind your back. Go Vio and Ravi go! Emotionally manipulate your lovers into maintaining the space time continuum against their own will. Good work boys.

The Wars plot. Oh Hylia, the Wars plot. *head in hands emoji* Would you believe me if I tood you that most if that got scrapped for time? There was more. A lot more. I regrett cutting it. But good to know that what I left in still hit the mark.

Thank you. Thank youuuu!!!! 💜💜💜

[mara-and-its-the-same]

There is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort 🌷: maybe a study session turned cuddle with tasm peter parker?

I don't know if you were expecting science but I just cannot. So r has a test on Othello and yeah, it's cute, I like it. thank you for requesting <3 I had fun writing it

WC: 910 (yay my first blurb under 1000 words, improvement)

The very second you sat back down at your desk, half convinced you’re focused enough from another session of pacing around your room, the buzzer went off. You’d almost be annoyed but you didn’t have the time with the half second it took you to realize it had to be Peter. Any other day you’d run over to the door, but today the exhaustion was getting to you. Settling for a rushed walk instead, you leaned down to speak into the little microphone. “Come on up, bugboy.”

“Actually,” you nearly screamed at the voice from outside your half open window. You had your hand over your heart and your back leaning on the wall while Peter watched, hanging upside down with that stupidly adorable smile. “Spiders are arachnids, not bugs.” He lowered himself to the floor and pulled the web down from your fire escape and you practically ran to open the window the rest of the way. You didn’t give him the chance to duck under the window on his own with the way you pulled him down with a hand to the back of his neck. He had to hold himself up with one hand on the sill and the other on the wrist of your hand in his hair. The kiss itself was much gentler than the way you wrapped him into it, but he was alright with that, though with how much he missed you he wouldn’t have minded more. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I know, it’s been too long.”

“Mhm, 12 whole hours, basically eternity.”

“If I remember correctly, it’s been 13.”

“Probably right,” he nudged you back a bit so he could climb in and shut the window without turning from you. “And how many of those did you sleep?”

“Hm,” you clicked your tongue while thinking of the best answer that wouldn’t get you sent to bed immediately, but decided the truth was enough. “Um, 5?” Wrong answer, you could see it on his face. “And a half, 5 and a half.”

“And what were you doing all the other 7.5?”

“I don’t know what it is about this essay but I can’t get it right.” You dropped your face into his shoulder and he tried scratching at the back of your neck in an attempt to comfort you.

“For your lit class? When’s it due?”

“That’s the thing,” you rested your chin on his chest and looked up at him with pleading eyes, not really knowing what you were asking for. “I’m just writing it as a practice for my exam, it’s in two days and if I can’t answer the essay question, what’s the point?”

“She gave you the essay question?”

“Yeah. Well, it’s just to analyze a scene and talk about what it means and blah blah blah whatever,” you talked while he pulled you into your room. “But I can’t focus and it’s like my eyeballs want me to fail.”

You stood behind him while he looked over your desk of loose index cards, open binders and notebooks with margins overrun with scribbles, and of course the half written essay on your laptop.

“You wanna sit down and I’ll quiz you on it? So you don’t have to strain your eyes anymore?” He started picking up the notecards before you even answered, just to organize for you if nothing else. You listened and sat on your bed with your back against the wall. 

“Yeah, that’s ok.”

“Good, ok, yeah. These ones?” He held up the colorful neon flash cards. 

“Mhm, Othello.”

Peter hasn’t even thought of Shakespeare since Macbeth senior year. Too wrapped up in more scientific studies and uh, spiderman-ing. But he’d do it for you. 

Three-quarters of the way through the set he could see your breath evening out and your eyes fluttering. 

“Here, lay down,” he guided you forward by the shoulder. 

“Hm?” 

“I’ll read to you.” He slid in behind you on the bed and pulled the blankets over both of you. 

“You don’t have your glasses.”

“I’ll manage,” he reached over to grab the book off the table then relaxed back down to pull you to his chest. 

“You’ll strain your eyes.” As if he didn’t arrive by swinging from building to building, that’s the danger you were worried about. 

“I’ll manage.” 

Your head was on his chest and he read over your shoulder. 

“Start here,” you pointed to the section your essay was focused on, half way through a passage. 

“She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, ‘twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used: Here comes the lady; let her witness it.”

He looked down at you to find you sleeping, happy that you finally found a moment’s rest. He kissed your forehead, wherever he could reach. “I love you.” He wasn’t even sure you could hear, but he needed you to know anyway. 

“I love you,” you mumbled into his chest.

[stvharrngton]

hi kyrie, congrats on 1k!! i hope i'm not too late to send something in, but may i please request 💌: steve + 91 (kisses shared under an umbrella) from list 2? thank you so much <333

kait!! not too late but i’m sorry i took forever to get this posted 😭 thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy! <3 @katsu28

pairing: steve harrington x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

word count: 1k

warnings: none, fluffy boyfriend steeb

prompt: kisses shared under an umbrella

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

1k celebration

The evening spring air was hot and sticky against your skin, your bare arms brushing against Steve’s with every step that you walked, your denim shorts high on your waist.

You two were a picture. Your hair thrown up into a bun that was definitely lopsided on your head, a pair of odd socks donning your feet. Steve with his signature Ray-Bans perched on the bridge of his nose even though the sun had moved behind the clouds hours ago.

He’d insisted that you’d been cooped up in your apartment for too long, either of you only ever leaving the comfort of your home for work. “Fresh air will be good for us.” He’d said.

You’d rolled your eyes at him, even though he was right, Steve was always right, but a pout fell to your lips when you re-emerged to see his car keys were still slung on the kitchen counter.

Apparently your idea of fresh air was different to his. You wanted to go for a drive, feel the wind blistering through your hair as the radio played throughout the trusty BMW. Steve’s hand resting on your thigh as he navigated the winding roads beyond Hawkins.

“We’re going for a walk, come on, baby,” he’d said with a chuckle, lacing his fingers between yours to pull you into him closer, “stop pouting.” Steve spoke against your lips with a gentle kiss.

You didn’t have an end destination, you just headed wherever your footsteps took you. Hand in hand and Steve was beaming from ear to ear. Something about you, about being with you, made him giddy. The way your hand felt in his, how warm your skin felt, the way your cheeks turned rosy from the warm air.

All of it just felt perfect. Like home.

Steve would always cherish moments like these, he was sure you did too. Between all the doom and gloom and interdimensional monsters lurking in Hawkins you still had each other. And Hell, that was enough. It would always be enough.

As he got lost in his thoughts in a sea of you, he almost didn’t realise you’d stopped walking. Brows pinched together with that damn pout on your lips again, fingers tugging on his own.

“Was that thunder?” You gawped, voice a little shaky as the clouds darkened quickly.

“What? No, come on, you’re hearing things.” Steve teased, chuckling to himself as he tried to get you walking again, arm slung around your shoulders to get you moving.

The sky rumbled again, a little louder this time as it rang throughout Steve’s ears. His grin downturning into a thin line as he turned to look at you.

“Shit.” He mumbled.

“So you don’t think I’m crazy now, hotshot?” You jibed with a jab to the boy’s chest.

Both your eyes brimmed wide with panic as the sprinkling of rain began to fall from the clouds, only doomed to fall harder as the seconds passed by. You were already hot and sticky, you could do without adding soggy to that list.

Steve wrapped his fingers around your wrist as he dragged you into the convenience store on the other side of the road. You narrowly missed the downpour by a beat, your sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor of the store.

“Let’s just wait it out in here for a minute.” Steve said quietly, fingers carding through his hair as he ushered you through with a hand at the small of your back.

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you watched the rain thrash against the large windows, brows knitting together as you spoke, “I don’t think it’s stopping anytime soon, Stevie.”

Steve pulled you into his side with his arm around your shoulders, his lips pressed to your temple as he nosed at your hairline. He hummed softly at your thought until his eyes fell on the rack of umbrellas in the corner of the aisle.

“I have an idea,” he said with a grin, “umbrella?”

He picked up one from the rack, a simple black thing with pink hearts splattered all over. You nodded with a giggle as you followed him to the cash register, hand tucked into the back pocket of his Levi’s.

“You’re not getting one for you, Stevie?” you asked as you leaned into the boy’s side.

“We can share, it’ll be romantic.” Steve hushed you with a wiggle of his eyebrows, fishing out his wallet to pay for your new umbrella.

“Steve,” you said with a giggle, “you’re like two feet taller than me.”

Okay, you were exaggerating just a little but Steve brushed you off either way. Insisting that he ‘could keep you dry, baby’, a statement he said in that voice that was usually reserved for the bedroom.

Steve Harrington was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend as he ushered you back out to the front of the store. The rain still thrashing the ground in an assault, you huddled shoulder to shoulder underneath the small ledge out front.

You snatched the umbrella from Steve’s hands as you felt the rain splatter at your feet, cold droplets sprinkling against your shins. You held the umbrella over you both as Steve peered down at you with a dopey grin on his face.

“‘M sorry I brought you out in the rain, sweetheart.” He spoke softly, you could barely hear him over the rain, his hand reaching to cup your cheek.

“S’fine, but I gotta ask,” you began, your free hand pressed against Steve’s firm chest, “where’s the romance you promised, loverboy?”

Steve chuckled lightly, pulling you into him and out from under the ledge with a grip to your waist. Both of his hands found your face, thumbs brushing over the apple of your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was sticky sweet, dripping with saccharine. Steve’s plush lips soft against your own, as you melted into him, his kiss, his touch. You felt him smile against your lips as he pulled away, your mouth chasing his as he came to rest his forehead on yours.

“Don’t get greedy now, pretty girl, there’s more where that came from at home.”

Umbrella and rain be damned, you were dragging Steve back to the comfort of your home as fast as your feet would carry you.

[ghosthoodie]

What is Sicily and Katie's ideal "stay in all day and cuddle" weather,,,,,,.,...,..,.,.,.,..,,.,.. . ,,.,.,.,,,.,.,.,.,.

[orcelito]

minor details, but in chapter 68 of trimax we do see this bit:

the items that vash kept in his coat.

a "funbari doll" (which i cant find anything definite online about what that is with just a cursory look, so im going to run under the assumption that theyre some kind of collectable in-universe) & it's a red one, which is apparently rare. he still has the same pen radio that connects to his earring that's used waaay back on the sandsteamer. a swiss army knife, a random key, a used tissue (?), and...

a lighter? blow torch? i still cant tell what that last bar thing is tho. & i guess he had some kind of (normal) coin too? but Only One.

love the characterization implications for this lol. definitely the kind of pocket contents i'd expect from a silly immortal with a big coat

[katsu28]

"send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!"

☕: prompt 23 from list e for rafe!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

it pains me to paint my pogues in a not so great light but i will forever love protective rafe <3 thank you for requesting!

rafe cameron x reader, minimal swearing, 1.9k

“Look who it is! The Princess Kook, slummin’ it on our side of the island for once.” 

Your grip tightened around the pack of beer you were holding at the voice coming from behind you, because you already knew who it was. There was only one person ballsy enough to speak so critically of you, and you were pretty damn sure he was standing right behind you.

Lo and behold there he was, flanked by a more bored looking John B. 

JJ Maybank was and always had been on your case, though you suspected it had more to do with your family name than with you yourself—always spouting off about money and wealth and eating the rich. You understood where he was coming from, of course, but that didn’t mean it stopped being irritating.

It just seemed like he was always riding you about being some little rich girl with daddy’s money, not an actual person, with actual feelings. But after a while, you’d grown used to it. JJ was all bark and no bite. 

“Hi, JJ.” You sighed, shifting your weight to one leg. You nodded at John B, who did the same back to you. “How’s it going?” 

“Didn’t know our booze was good enough for Her Majesty’s taste.” JJ sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his dig. “Rafe know you’re over here?” 

“He’s not my keeper.” 

“What’re you even doing here, Y/N? They don’t got beer on Figure Eight?” John B sounded a little bit nicer, more tired than bitchy like his blond friend. 

“Cheaper here.” 

“Like you don’t have enough fuckin’ money.” JJ scoffed. John B jabbed a sharp elbow into his side, a sign for him to shut up. 

“Look guys, I’m not looking for any trouble. I just wanna get some beer and go home, that’s it.” 

“How ‘bout you leave the beer here and run back to your little princess castle instead?” 

“You’re a real prick tonight, JJ. Something got your panties all up in a bunch?” You shouldn’t have snarked back, that you knew, but he was really getting on your nerves tonight. You weren’t sure why. His words usually just slid right off you. 

JJ’s expression darkened and he scowled, brows furrowing. “Maybe ‘cause I just got fired from the Club this morning.” 

“What, why?” You asked, surprised. It was a genuine question. JJ was a definite pain in your ass, maybe with an attitude problem but still a good employee. 

“Oh, drop the clueless act. Pretty sure it was one of your stuck up friends who complained.” 

“I’m sorry you got fired, JJ, I am, but I had nothing to do with it. And there’s nothing I can do about it either. I don’t have that kind of pull with anyone at the Club, neither does my family.” 

You figured it would be better if you left now before JJ came up with another retort, or you'd likely be here trading snippy insults with each other all night, and you had better things to do with your time. There was some sympathy in you for him, but your statement was still true. There was nothing you could do for him, even if you wanted to. And besides, Rafe was waiting on you for a movie night. 

Leaving the conversation and the beer you were supposed to get behind, you hurried back to your car. The quicker you got to Rafe’s place, the quicker you could forget about it. 

Only a couple minutes into the drive, headlights flashed in your mirror. No big deal, probably just someone heading the same way as you. You were on the main road to the other side of the island, after all. 

Then the car sped up a bit, coming dangerously close to your back bumper before retreating a sizable distance behind—once, twice. By the third time, you were starting to get a little pissed. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered, squinting to get a better look at it. A big camper van, old from what you make out in the darkness, faded orange—oh fuck. You knew that van, John B’s old clunker of a car. And if you squinted a little harder, you could almost make out the same blond head of hair that was antagonizing you back at the store. 

So JJ did have a little bite in him. You sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to find out. 

Stepping on the gas a little harder, you took the long way back to the Figure 8, weaving through the backroads you’d known like the back of your hand since before you were able to drive. Back then, you’d done it on your bike, peals of laughter echoing through the overgrown fields of the Cut turned clean lines of pristinely cut lawns the closer you got to home, as Rafe chased after you on his own. 

Still, the van followed you on your way. With every glance at it in the rearview mirror, you grew a little more worried.

JJ’s driving was erratic, like he was playing a game of cat and mouse with you. If he really wanted to hurt you, this would be the ideal place to do it. There was nothing but grass and weeds around here. Nobody would find you for hours, even days if he were to run you into a ditch or something. 

That thought alone spurred you to drive even faster, driving and driving until you took one more look in the mirror to see that the van had stopped. You watched the headlights grow smaller in the distance, forcing yourself to keep driving until you got to safety—to Rafe. 

You screeched to a stop in front of Rafe’s townhouse, barely giving a backwards glance to see if they were really gone before hurrying the rest of the way to the front door. Hands trembling, you balled them both into fists, raising one to knock as loudly as you could. You could barely hear the thud of your fist on the wood over your thundering heart. 

The door opened in an instant, Rafe’s smiling face greeting you. It quickly faded when he took in your wide eyes, your hard breathing. He pulled you inside immediately, sliding the locks home behind you before gathering you into his arms. “What happened?”

You explained as quick as you could, but the adrenaline from the whole thing was starting to die down. Your previous thoughts were starting to seem silly at this point. JJ was a hothead, but you didn't think he’d go so far as to take out his anger on you. He was probably just trying to scare you, nothing more, nothing less. 

Rafe, on the other hand, was livid. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, voice dangerously low. His eyes searched you for any visible injuries, hands sliding over your body with the utmost care, a stark contrast to the storm creeping into his beautiful blue eyes. “I swear to god if those punks even laid a finger on you—” 

“No, no, they didn’t hurt me, Rafe. I’m okay now, I promise. Just a little shaken up is all.” You assured him, stopping his search by lacing your fingers through his. He still looked unsure. “I’m fine, baby. Honest.” 

Rafe’s brows furrowed long and hard, and you reached up, attempting to smooth out the deep wrinkle between them with your thumb. 

You traced above one of them, trailing down over the skin under it before letting your palm settle against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a split second as he leaned more into your touch. The wrinkle disappeared. 

“Okay. But you’re not going home tonight. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna have a talk with my sister in the morning, okay?” He was calmer now, you could tell. The sharp edge to his voice was gone, his shoulders relaxed the more you stroked along his skin. You nodded, satisfied. “Can I make you something? Tea? A snack? I’ve got those cheese puffs you’re so obsessed with, though I don’t really see how good—” 

“Rafe,” You chided, smiling warmly, “You don’t have to dote on me. I’m fine.” 

“I know. My girl’s strong.” He murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your palm. “Just had me worried for a bit, that’s all.” 

You kissed him, short and sweet, before tugging him towards the living room. Your gaze landed on the snacks he’d laid out on the coffee table first, drifting to the heaps of blankets and pillows on the couch right after.

Everything was already set up perfectly, and with all that had happened in just the past hour, sent a warmth flooding through your body, a sense of safe and love and home that you only ever felt when you were with Rafe. 

Rafe suddenly looked bashful, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin at the way you were looking at him. “What? I was excited to see you.” 

“You saw me yesterday, Rafe.” You chided lightly, completely failing at a stern look in favor of something much fonder. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.” 

“Rafe Cameron, are you going soft on me?” You hummed, settling onto the couch. Rafe threw himself down next to you with a nonchalant shrug, resting an idle hand on your knee when you threw your legs across his thighs, but the answer was a resounding yes.

Yes, he was soft for you. Yes, he loved you more than he loved anything and anyone in this world. 

He knew it, you knew it, and that was what prompted him to speak his next words. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Uh oh.” You snickered, drawing a roll of his eyes with a lopsided smile. 

“Hilarious. Anyways, um, what would—I mean, what’re your thoughts about maybe…moving in with me?” 

“Here?” Maybe you sounded a bit more skeptical than you meant to, because Rafe quickly backtracked, sitting up straight. 

“Doesn’t have to be here. We could get a new place, if you want.” He replied, shaking his head. “Top’s uncle works in real estate, I could probably get him to show us some places within the next couple of days—”

“No.” 

Rafe’s expression crumpled. “No? No, as in no, you don’t want to live together?” 

You amended your rather blunt statement with a hand placed over his. “No, as in no, I don’t want to get a new place. I wanna live here. With you.” 

“You do?” 

“Don’t look so surprised, Cameron, your place is way nicer than mine.” You teased. Clearly amused, he scoffed, giving your calf a playful pinch. 

“That the only reason?” 

“‘Course not. I’m also looking forward to that fancy shower head in your bathroom.” 

Rafe snorted, pulling you close against him, pressing his forehead against yours. He looked a bit funny like this, nearly bug-eyed because of your close proximity, but you thought he’d never looked cuter. “And me?” 

You peppered kisses to his cheeks, chin, nose, the corners of his mouth in lieu of an answer, loud and over dramatic and definitely obnoxious, but it made him laugh. Then you kissed him right where he wanted, firm and loving against his lips to say yes, always you, and he smiled. 

Moving in with Rafe meant getting to hear your favorite laugh, see your favorite smile, every single day waking up next to him. You hoped you’d get to experience it for the rest of your life, starting now. 

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[marshmallowprotection]

Trifolium

Pairing: Ray/Reader Description: Ray never suspected you could be dealing with excruciating pain under his watchful eyes, but as it turned out, it was possible. He won't let you suffer in silence if he can help it. Word Count: 4209 [Read on AO3]

TW: Emetophobia

Ray nearly dropped everything in his hands the minute he saw you in a crumpled mess on your bedroom floor. You had your face in your hands, one hand holding your mouth and the other clenching the sweater he picked out for you. He hated the sight of you, dazed and lost, but he knew there was nothing he could do for you to remove the pain.

"My flower," he strained, voice panicked with agony, unable to do anything but rush over to your side. "What's wrong?"

Regardless of his inability to save you from the same miserable feeling he suffered, he didn't want to leave you alone. The work he needed to do could wait for him to pick it back up. You could never be left alone in that state. He would be beside himself with fear if he left you like that. 

There was no point in doing his job if you didn't have a single ounce of strength to do yours. If push came to shove, he would tell his Savior you'd fallen ill and they couldn't afford to lose the hard work that brought you here in the first place. Even if he was punished for it, he had no other choice. It would be worth it to ensure your good health. Your health was important. It was just as important as your happiness. 

He wanted—

He wanted to do so much more for you and your happiness with the key to Heaven in his hands, but how in the world could he make that happen if you caught a virus while under his watchful eyes? How could he let something like that happen? He thought he had been watching you like a hawk for any risks and concerns, but if something like that slipped out from underneath him, he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Ray knew there would be a possibility that he would miss something important but he never thought it would be like this. 

He was a failure!

The Savior—

She couldn't scold him for trying his best to ensure your health and happiness. You were crucial to the success of the eternal party! It was impossible to have a paradise without a world of bliss for you.

She said that.

He said that.

They agreed on the subject.

There was no doubt about it.

But—if the Savior knew that you were in this condition, he thought. She would take you to her private chambers and that meant he might not ever see you again. His mind went to his worst fears as you sat in front of him, all the while holding back the painful urge to gag and spit up bile from the back of your throat. Your rosy cheeks were flushed in the worst way. It was as clear as day, you were in horrible shape. 

His fears haunted him like the wildfires that tore through the mountains in the dry winter. He would lose you to the Savior if he failed to be good enough to take care of you. What she said would turn out to be correct, after all. The Savior warned him he would never be enough. How could he think about that at a time like this, he thought. Shameful. He didn't deserve to be close to you. He didn't deserve you. He could never deserve to be close to you. He let the misery of a sickness find you under his nose! 

His hands hovered as he debated with himself about what the right thing to do was. Would he make it worse if he jostled you? Would he be able to do anything to help you feel better if he sullied your features with his insignificant touch? He couldn't bring himself to touch you, but he wanted to.

He wanted to hold you close until the pain left your eyes—

That would only make it worse. His panicked mind warned him just as soon as the urge to hold you grew more potent by the minute. Every time he got sick enough to taste stomach acid on the back of his tongue, it was too late to turn back. He would retch and gag in his hands until the sensation either left or he spent an hour over a trash can. Doing nothing but trying to empty a stomach that was already empty sans acidic flavors and melted candy. 

Even though he didn't want the memory to spring up, it had been no different when he was a kid as far as he remembered. Back then, the only thing he could do for the pain to go away was to hold his hands to his chest as that redhead did, his eyes clenched shut as he muttered prayer after prayer to some deity he didn't understand to make the horrid feeling go away. It never did go away, though.

It clung to him like a fine layer of dust and he felt the ire burning inside of him. He would beg until his throat was hoarse. Nothing stopped that horrible feeling. He had to wait until his body decided it was time to do something about it. The last thing he wanted to do was cloud his mind with every sensation you felt. How could he be any help to you if he felt as bad as you did? 

"Please, tell me what's wrong," he urged.

You wouldn't speak to him. Ray knew that wasn’t like you. You never ignored him when you felt alright. If you tried to speak up, that would only make it worse, he knew that as soon as you narrowed your eyes and buried your face in your hands, shaking your head as if to say you couldn't do it. You wanted to say something but you simply didn't want to make things worse on yourself. But without the ability to communicate what you were feeling, there was no way to know how to help you best. 

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't treat you like he treated himself. There was no way he would allow you to treat yourself in that way, either. He couldn't imagine how much misery you would be in if you ignored your pain and continued to do things you wanted to do. If you pushed yourself to the brink of exhaustion then it would only be worse when you finally didn't have the strength to force it anymore.

He hurriedly looked around the room, but he couldn’t find anything that would help you as fast as he wanted it to help. "I'll be right back. Don't hold it back if you can't help it. If it isn't something you can help, then it's nothing you need to worry about."

Ray couldn't watch you suffer like that. 

Reluctantly, he left your side to check the bathroom. There had to be something in there he could use, he thought. It wasn't like he gave you this room without things to ensure it could sustain itself as an adequate living quarter for you. He spent days trying to figure out what would make this room a comfortable place for you to live in. Even by the time he finished decorating everything, he still wasn't sure that he had done enough to satisfy you in the end.

He was glad he stocked the room with everything you needed, but the fact that he never accounted for the possibility you would be sick while you stayed with him like an anchor. He never planned on that. He never thought you would be miserable by his side! He spent so much time trying to create a luxurious space that he forgot about the necessities. What kind of moron was he! He told himself time and time again that he had everything to take care of you but he didn't. He didn't have everything!

What a moron.

He grabbed whatever he thought would help, pilfering the cabinets for all he could find, but that included a rag he wet for your clammy skin, a trash can, and a glass of water for when it was alright for you to bring your energy levels back up to speed. It wasn’t much but it was a lot better than nothing at all. These things wouldn't take your discomfort away but it would sustain you for the time being. That was the only thing he could do. 

By the time he came back into the room, you were worse for wear, rocking back and forth to soothe what you could, and the only seconds away from hurling. He wasn't sure if you were holding yourself back on his account or not. 

Was there information about you that he couldn't dig up? As impossible as it seemed, there was a chance that he missed information when he was doing his best to find everything that was about you. That thought kept repeating itself in his mind as he tried to force it back. He didn't want to consider that possibility if only because it meant that he wasn't deserving of somebody as perfect as you. If he didn't know everything and how to keep you safe, how could he ever deserve to be at your side?

He set the trash can in front of you to catch whatever came up if it inevitably happened, and you seemed grateful for that.

But, the misery didn't leave your face from his act of kindness.

He knew it wouldn't. You tugged your sweater off when he left the room but it seemed like it only made your condition worse. You shivered, body trembling now despite exhaustion just like he felt when his fevers grew too strong. The strangest part about it was that you had nothing to say. Even in his worst shape, he would still mutter to himself with as much energy as he could muster up. 

Even if it made him feel worse.  

Usually, he thought that when a person was sick, they would complain and do everything within their strength to beg for help but you seemed resigned. It was something he noticed whenever he interacted with believers after their cleansing ceremony. Some lashed out because they couldn't handle the aftershock of the strong medication and then some simply took it and slumped to the ground in a cold heap. Each reaction varied in its severity.

It took him a while to understand the difference had a lot to do with people's experiences. 

People who weren't used to suffering and sickness tended to cry out for help a lot more than those who were used to it. Ray was used to it. Even if he had to scream and shout because of the pain, he was numb to it. He was numb to pain until the pain increased a little more than he was used to. He would only react when it was a hundred times worse than his body was accustomed to.

The implication of your actions implied that you knew pain like the back of your hand just as he knew it as the unclear, foggy reflection in the mirror stared back at him when he was miserable. Ray never wanted you to suffer but it seemed as though you knew suffering like he did. He did everything in his power to bring you to this place because he wanted to make sure you were never hurt again. 

Yet, here you were, miserable and suffering in a place that wasn't supposed to allow such things. How successful would Paradise be if you could still suffer behind the safety of its walls? 

The only difference between your misery at that moment and those who found themselves in the basement was that he could offer you kindness and empathy as the pain burned into your veins. You didn't have to wither on the dirty ground. You didn't need to cry for anyone who would never come for you. He was there for you and regardless of how useless he felt, he was glad that he could be there for you.

"Ray," your voice cracked as soon as you tried to speak. Those words were strained and stressed as if it took every ounce of your power to say them. He winced but held back so that sound didn't make you feel bad. "Get my bag. It's—It's over—"

He followed your eyes to the other side of the room. He noted your bag on the table and he moved to pick it up, placing it in front of you so you could get whatever you needed to find. He made a mental note of the few items that were abandoned on the floor in search of what you wanted. 

You didn't come to Magenta with much, but what you did bring with you was guarded to your chest.

He didn't want to pry into your little trinkets, if you wanted the opportunity to share things with him, he had no problem with that. It would be easy for him to figure out what you had in your hands. It was all the sweeter when you decided to willingly share those things with him. That meant the world to him. More than anything, he wanted to be your friend of your own choosing. You didn't want to force you to like him. 

He wanted you to like him because you liked him. Perhaps, that was asking too much from somebody as ethereal as you, but the tiny frog prince couldn't help but wish for something more. Even at this moment when you looked feverish and dazed, he still wanted to be the most crucial person in your life. He wanted to be the only one you turned to when you needed help.

You tore through the bag and found a tiny bottle of pills, which made him raise a brow, but he knew there wasn't time to ask you why you needed to take something. He cringed as you swallowed without asking for water to take it properly. You lifted your head, very tired eyes meeting his with a knowing look, "Nausea medication. I have to take it as needed."

As needed?

Ray shook the look from his face and quietly tugged the glove from his hand to attempt to take your temperature. You were clammy and warm but not burning up. If you had to say you were dealing with anything, it was the chills. A cold sweat was much worse. It wasn't a cold nor was it the flu. That would have made you feel different. It had to be something else in your body that wasn't feeling well.

"Can I help you to bed? Is it okay if I help you up? Would it feel better or worse in a more comfortable position? Do I need to help you adjust? Does it feel better on the ground? Do you need the floor time? It's not good for you but—"

"Bed," you whispered.

He pressed his hands against your arms, doing his best to guide you upright into a better position in your bed. As soon as you returned to bed, you sat down and remained upright. He couldn't blame you for that, though. The bile would always crawl back up if you didn't use gravity with you. He draped the blanket back over your legs and you breathed slowly, the tension in your brows never wavering for a second, but your hands relaxed against the sheets. 

Did you… need help with nausea?

How could he not know that about you? Did he skip over something in the countless files he located about your life and history? How could he have missed something so important? He spent hours trying to locate everything he could find in town to ensure that you would have everything you needed. He spent hours deliberating every choice because they mattered to him. They mattered to him because he knew they would matter to you in the long run. That fact was simple. 

Ray kneeled at your bedside as soon as he was sure you were as comfortable as you could be. He wasn't sure you could get any more comfortable than that. As long as he could grab what you needed at a moment's notice, that was the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. He rubbed the wet rag against your wrists, minding the area with gentle hands so as not to overwhelm your pressure points. 

Of course, he slowed down as soon as you flinched when the fabric touched your elbow. 

Ray could've never imagined you were dealing with something like this when you were alone, but more importantly, it stunned him to realize this was something you hadn't told him about. He knew there had to be a good reason why you didn't tell him about something important. What sort of reason could you have?

Why would you avoid telling him something this important about yourself? Was it because you couldn't trust him? Was it because you were afraid of telling him that you were having a hard time? Did you decide to hold your tongue when you realized that he was miserable in a similar way and you didn't want to bother him when he felt bad? 

He never wanted you to avoid or ignore him but you had a destructive pattern of leaving him alone after he mentioned that he was having a hard time and couldn't focus. Ray knew the outside world didn't deserve you. It didn't matter what you were feeling, rain or shine, you put all of your thoughts and emotions behind you to care for everyone around you first. 

You were the most stubborn person when it came to yourself and he wanted to break you off it so it would never hurt you again. He just never thought that habit of years included your physical health. Why would he? He never wanted you to feel as though there was the worst of the worst in store for you here. He wanted you to have nothing but peace of mind. 

You didn't say much. However, as the minutes passed by, it seemed as though the color was returning to your face. He didn't have any complaints about it. Whatever you took seemed to be doing its job. He set the rag aside so he could better focus on you. 

Ray had countless questions for you he needed to ask, but he knew it wasn't the time to try to force everything out of you. He didn't want to make you feel any more miserable than you already were. The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on him, though. There had been countless occasions where you did or said something that didn’t make sense. Plenty of moments where you offered advice that didn’t make sense given your education! 

Ray grabbed your hand. You felt cold to the touch. "Is this... is this why you offer tips and solutions when I tell you I'm under the weather?"

You didn't meet his eyes, nor did you stop yourself from hastily confessing whatever was on your mind as soon as you had the strength. Tears blotted your vision but refused to fall just yet. "To be honest, I'm nauseous all the time, Ray. I'm not sure I can remember what it feels like to not feel this way. Normally, I don't have super bad days like I used to when things got rough. But, I can tough it out if it does get bad. I've learned one hundred ways to make it go away but there are times when I can't. That's when a little bit of medication helps…"

How couldn't he have realized it sooner? 

Why didn't you tell me you were sick?

That miserable sob in the back of your throat didn't make him feel any better. Ray wanted... He wanted to give you the whole world, he never wanted to see you in pain that could have been comparable to his own. Why would you ever try to tough it out? You didn't deserve to feel that way!

Why would you try to tough it out when you can ask for comfort?

Were you miserable all the time? You put on a smiling face and laughed with him so many times and he never knew. Were you miserable that entire time? How could he not notice it? How could he not see what was in front of you? He knew how to hide his pain, but why did he expect that you couldn’t do the same? He was a failure. He was a failure who didn't know how to take care of you. How could he not know? How could he not ever know you needed him so much sooner?

Do you feel that way all the time?

Oh, his poor, sweet flower.

This was why you didn't belong in the outside world with the rest. You didn't belong with anybody who would ever think that you were a burden or a problem. He hated himself for not being strong enough for you to realize you could share everything with him. He should have done more work from the start, he realized.

What made you hide from him like that…? 

Was it because you were afraid to confess how sick you felt? Were you afraid that what he might think of you would change if he knew about your struggles? Nothing about you would ever be disgusting or exhausting. He didn’t mind if he had to help you when you needed him to care for you! He wanted to take care of you no matter what. He made that promise when he saw your face at the very beginning of his search. 

God, were you afraid of the same thing he was? 

Was it possible that the reason why you didn't want to say anything to him had something to do with the same insecurities he felt? Was it possible when you found yourself throwing up everything in your guts, you thought you were the most disgusting person in the world who was unworthy of love and affection? God, he never wanted you to think of yourself that way.

Inevitably, he wanted to marry you, and that came with a promise to care for somebody in sickness and health. Even if you wouldn't look at his face, he felt worse for making you feel guilty about it. You were a person who didn't want to burden yourself. He knew that about you because you had admitted it in the same breath that you realized that he was the same way.

Whatever your reasoning was, he didn’t care anymore, he just wanted to hold you close as he could until your tears subsided. 

Ray couldn't control himself. As much as he hated himself for not being good enough to take care of you and give you everything you needed, he didn't want you to feel miserable in any way. Without thinking, he wrenched himself from the ground as fast as he could and pulled you into his embrace. He needed to hold you and he needed to wash away the tears as soon as they appeared. 

"My precious flower, I wish you had told me sooner about all of this. How many nights have you spent feeling this way without someone there to help? I wish I realized sooner. I don't want you to suffer through this by yourself. When I feel horrible, you're always there for me, please let me be there for you, flower. I’m begging you. Please let me be there for you when you need me. Please let me hold you when you become upset or sick. Please, let me be the one who holds you when you want to be held. I know I'm not the strongest, nor am I the best person to care for you, but I want to be there for you all the same. Please, let me do this for you...”

Despite everything, your trembling hands clenched the back of his coat, showing what you'd wanted from the start was just an inkling of discomfort.

“I don't care if you think you're disgusting or gross, I will hold your hair for you and clean up any mess that comes with it," his painted voice spoke through a wall of shame. Even if he felt like he could never be good enough for you, he would fight to be good enough for you. “I beg you to never hide your feelings so I can be there for you. Even if I’m working, I want to do whatever I can to help. You always put everything down for me, so let me do the same for you so you don’t have to cry by your lonesome.” 

Ray would never let you treat yourself so abysmally ever again. 

"Thank you, Ray," you muttered.

He would find the confidence to be what you needed as long as you clung to him like that. 

He held you just as you wanted to be held, "I'll always be here to hold you when you ask."

[kaitsawamura]

🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard

❦ SUMMARY ❦

You need a change, a big one. When your estranged grandfather passes away and bequeaths you his farm in a little town just south of the middle of nowhere, you take it as the sign you needed to make a change instead of waiting for one.

The farm, while having fallen into a state of disrepair, is just the thing to cure your modern-world ailments. The people are kind and always ready to offer help, if a bit unusual. They have old superstitions, a haunted community center, and a resident wizard. Spoiler alert: those last two on the list take some getting used to.

Yes, things are different here but you have a sneaking suspicion that the slow pace and a certain alchemical practitioner are going to remind you that sometimes, all you need is time and a little bit of magic.

THIS SCROLL WAS LAST UPDATED: 6/1/24

❦ STATS ❦

Pairing: Wizard!Gojo Satoru x Farmer!Reader

Rating: M for Mature, 18+ only minors do not interact

Warnings: Fantasy/Stardew Valley violence, sexual content, angst (maybe like just a tiny lil bit)

Tags: Stardew Valley AU, strangers to friends to lovers, red thread of fate, soulmates (kinda) eventual smut, fluff focused, canon divergent, more tags to come (literally am too excited, I need to get this masterlist post out in the world lol)

Projected Word Count: 100K

Author’s Note: In unsurprising news, I have still been in the trenches with my Stardew Valley hyperfixation. Then, along comes this lovely PC Gojo mod and the fate of this fic was sealed. It's going to be inspired a touch by that mod (which I will link below, full credit to that amazing modder) and will heavily follow a standard Stardew Valley play through timeline. I'm a lil nervous to write Gojo since he doesn't fall neatly into the character type I normally am drawn to but I have WRITING HANDS (like jazz hands but for writers :P ) and so I'm adding another fic to my WIPs list.

Important Note: This fic is part of this blog's contribution to the @ficsforgaza initiative!

❦ LINKS ❦

Fics for Gaza Masterlist <- now linked! ->

GOJO MOD FOR PC'ERS

JJK Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

❦ TABLE OF CONTENTS ❦

SPRING

Part 1: In Which You Unexpectedly Receive The Deed to A Farm

Part 2 | In Progress | TBL

SUMMER

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AUTUMN

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WINTER

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This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[littleladymab]

Fic Authors Self-Rec!

Ahhhh thank you @fourteenfifteen for the tag! (You can find Hen's post over here!)

Rules: When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love

Also I'm totally going to CHEAT, because I absolutely LOVE my two big series that are NOT popular at all LMAO

the scars that we're made of series! This is my "Star Wars Rebels S5" fic. This is my "did you hate the ahsoka show for yes girl giving us nothing??" this is my "do you also want to know what happens after rebels but don't want it to be EXCLUSIVELY thranto?" THIS IS MY FAVORITE SERIES I'VE WRITTEN like the whole thing top to bottom bangers imo It's not yet finished, I still have to write my Eli prequel but honestly, if you love Rebels, read this! Here's the tumblr post for main fic, far from the world that i made.

inside every open eye series! This is a fantasy Magnus Archives fic, in which Sasha steps in to take over the role of the Archivist after Jon goes missing during a ritual for the Beholding. I love a lot of the visuals from this, and I loved writing for Sasha -- plus there's a lot of fun side-stories. This one is complete! Here's tumblr post for the main fic, tiny cracks of light.

my place to land. What is UP SIGNET/ECHO NATION, ALL FIVE OF YOU! I wrote a novel for my rare pair because i am actually three bodyguard AUs in a trench coat captaining the good ship I made up. Twilight Mirage is still my favorite fatt season, because it is exactly my aesthetic and also, Signet is there. This is still one of my favorite fics, even though I can think of many things that i would change upon a rewrite. I got a lot of amazing gift art from friends when I was updating it, too, and I treasure everyone who came to read it!! It is currently still the longest fic in the fatt tag, but not for long it does look like there is someone rapidly catching up with 74k on a 6/14 chapter fic. It was fun while it lasted! Unfortunately, twitter moments went kaput so I will have to figure out some other way to put all the wonderful fanart everyone made for me!

'til my lungs burn bright. Affectionately called my "regency magic spies AU" for Ace Attorney, specifically this is for AA4/Klapollo!! This is a sequel to a fic I haven't finished yet! (Someone encourage me to finish the main fic! it's what i'm supposed to be working on this month!!) I love this setting SO much and I loved making all the little references to in-game moments. Here's the tumblr link to the fic ;) I had a hard time picking between this and my sleeping beauty klapollo au.... Also shout-outs to Joanie for doing the WONDERFUL art for it!!! (I should actually go put it in-line with the fic text too oops)

Theseus' Ship. The Anders Defender has LOGGED THE FUCK ON. That's it that's the post. No okay, it's an Anders character study and i think it absolutely slaps. Here's the tumblr link to the fic!

Bonus very short fic that I still enjoy, which you can also read even if you're not in the fandom, but Five Steps To Ensure Your Soulmate Becomes a Ghost from Rusty Quill Gaming.

Honestly I love everything I write because I am an audience of me first. The current version of my masterpost has links out to a lot of my fics from different fandoms -- like some of my other friends at the table content and my jgm labyrinth au and my lockwood fic! That's my best piece of advice: love what you write, and write for yourself first! And then the two little freaks in your group chat second 💞 I wouldn't have been able to do most of these fics without the besties, so thank you to everyone who has read my novel-length fics.

Tags: Scrambling to think of any of my fic writing friends let's goooo @luukeskywalker, @mariusperkins, @lesbianahsokatano, @redtailedhawk90, @bardicspiration, @krisseycrystal , @strangeharpy and there's so many of you i love you all, please go flaunt your writing and talk about your five favorite fics!! and tag me!!

[harringtonswriting]

hi bree!!! may i please request knuckles brushing against each other and person A getting shy with bob floyd? thank youu ily <33

ahhh hi kait!!! thank you so much for the request!! i love bob sm and i loved writing this!! ily too, i'm so sorry this got away from me and is much longer than i wanted but i hope you like it! <33 (this is bob x fem!reader, i hope that's okay!)

...

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock, and you can’t help the smile on your face as you know your favourite customers are about to come through the doors.

It’s almost like clockwork at this point; every Friday night after they’re done work for the week, a group of young aviators you’ve become very well acquainted with comes to the Hard Deck to relax, hang out, and get drunk. There’s quite a few of them, too; on days when they can all make it, they number thirteen–though their thirteenth member usually spends his time sitting at the bar and making moon eyes at Penny while she laughs at his terrible jokes. But they usually come in a group of six, sometimes eight, depending on deployments and detachments and things that they explained to you when you’d asked, once, back when you first met them.

The music from the jukebox, which you can vaguely recognize as Kenny Loggins, is playing through the Hard Deck, loud enough to enjoy but not so loud that you couldn’t hear yourself think, or hear anyone else who might try to talk to you. The Hard Deck is still pretty empty, just a few people sitting at the bar or having gotten drinks and taken them to a table.

However, when you hear the door open, you look over and you don’t see the normal group of aviators you’ve come to expect. No, the only person walking in is Lieutenant Robert Floyd, also known as Bob. He’s the sweetest and the quietest of the group, but one you’d find yourself looking out for, singling out among the group to talk to when you brought them drinks or when you spoke to them when they came over to the bar top. He was also pretty easy on the eyes, you’d be happy to admit, and today was no exception. He’s wearing a tight fitting white t-shirt, tighter than he normally wears, and tight jeans with some light brown leather boots. He’s got a baseball hat on his head, though he’s quick to take it off as he approaches where you’re standing behind the bar.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he greets you, ducking his head slightly. He’s always been polite, almost too polite, but it was endearing coming from him. You think so, anyway. His big, sweet-looking blue eyes shine behind his glasses, and you can’t help but lean forward on the bar towards him.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Floyd,” you greet him, and he ducks his head again. You look around, between the tables, the pool tables in the back, and the front door. It’s more than a little unusual to see him on his own; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him at the Hard Deck without at least two or three of the other aviators. “Is it just you tonight?”

“Oh, uh, no, everyone else is coming by later,” he explains, still clutching his baseball hat in one hand. He shrugs with one shoulder. “We were supposed to meet here at seven, but I didn’t get the message until I was already in the parking lot here. And with traffic, if I went back home and came back here I’d really just be driving for an hour, so…” His voice trails off, and he looks around. It’s unusually quiet for a Friday, even this early in the day, and there are only four or five other people besides you and Bob and Penny, who’s talking with someone else at the other end of the bar top. There’s plenty of open tables in the Hard Deck, and none of the pool tables are being used, but it wouldn’t be much fun for him to play by himself. So you decide to be bold.

“Well, there’s plenty of seats available at the bar, if you’d like some company while you wait.” You try to be as nonchalant as possible as you wait for his answer. His eyebrows raise and his mouth opens just a bit in surprise, but then he’s blinking and nodding his head.

“I’d like that very much, ma’am,” he says, nodding once again as he politely addresses you. It’s very sweet, but you put a hand on your hip and shake your head.

“You can call me by my name, if you’d like.”

“Only if you call me by mine.” You’re not expecting him to retort so quickly, but it’s definitely not unwelcome.

“Deal.” You smile at him as you grab a clean glass and start filling it up with his usual drink of choice, a club soda with lemonade. You slide it across the bar to him before starting a tab for him on the register behind the bartop. You also grab him a fresh plastic cup filled with peanuts, holding it out for him to take as well. A faint pink flush spreads over his cheeks as he takes that too, his hand brushing yours.

As your skin makes contact with his, you see the pink flush deepens into a rosy red colour, spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. His glasses slip down his nose just a bit, and you feel yourself melt inside, just a bit, at how shy he is, and you just stand there and look at each other for a moment before laughter from behind you breaks the spell. Bob clears his throat, sitting down on the closest stool and putting his hat back on his head. He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose while you grab a cleaning rag and start wiping down the area around where he’s sitting. You start talking to him, asking about his day, and the two of you slip into conversation from there.

He’s so easy to talk to; he keeps his eyes on you the entire time you talk, nodding along and laughing at the appropriate times. Not fake laughs, either; his laugh is like a guffaw, which you hadn’t thought was real until you heard him laugh, and you love the sound of it. You find yourself confiding in him, telling him about your week, about the latest drama with your friends, about everything and nothing and anything in-between. You do get other customers who come up for drinks, and regulars who come by to say hello, and you serve them in between topics of conversation with Bob. He also tells you about his day, about the ups and downs of flying multi-million dollar planes, and about how if he has to do any more push-ups because of Hangman and Rooster’s eternal pissing contest, he’s gonna lose it (well, okay, those aren’t the exact words that Bob uses, but if he wasn’t so polite you’re sure he’d word it like that).

But before you know it, nearly an hour has gone by since Bob first walked into the Hard Deck and sat down with you. And while he’s watching you with a smile on his face, you know you’ve been going on and on for most of it. Which is a little embarrassing, but it was just so easy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’ve been talking your ear off this whole time,” you tell him, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought. Hopefully you haven’t been boring him.

“Don’t apologize. I liked it.” Bob is quick to offer you reassurance, almost as if he can read your mind. He adjusts the hat on his head, and his fingers sweep some loose golden blond hair up under the navy cap. You can’t help but watch, wondering if his hair is as soft as it looks. You’d bet it is. “I like the sound of your voice. It’s nice to listen to.”

You’re not quite sure if he’s flirting with you or genuinely that kind. It might be a mix of both. But it gives you some relief, and the two of you chat for a few more minutes before you hear Penny call out a greeting from behind you. You look towards the door to see that the rest of Bob’s usual company is walking in now. As usual, Pete makes a beeline for the bar top to say hello and shamelessly flirt with his girlfriend, while the others go off to claim a pool table and some seats nearby.

Bradley looks in your direction, very noticeable in a bright green and yellow Hawaiian shirt and ripped jeans, and then he nudges Natasha to look over at you as well. There’s a big grin growing from under his mustache and he does so, which isn’t too far from normal for him, but as he waves to you and Bob before grabbing a pool table, you can’t help but wonder if he’s behind the hour delay tonight. No, it couldn’t be. Bradley’s not sneaky enough to do anything like that.

But now that they’re here, you know that Bob is going to go and join them; that’s what he’s here for, after all, not to sit with you and let you talk his ear off all night. Not that you’d mind his company, though. You honestly would gladly give him this spot permanently, just to hear his laugh and see his pretty blue eyes behind the glasses that you were finding more and more attractive on him as the night progressed.

So you decide to do something bold, wanting to keep talking to him. You grab him a clean glass and, while he’s busy looking over and waving at the others, you grab a napkin and a pen from your apron to scrawl your name and number down. You fill the glass with club soda and lemonade, and place it in front of him with the napkin when he turns back around to look at you. He reaches into his pocket, presumably for his wallet, but you shake your head.

“Your drinks are on me tonight. As a thank you for being such good company,” you tell him, and once again his knuckles brush yours as he takes the drink and napkin from you. He thanks you, his voice soft, as he turns and heads over to where his friends and co-workers have gathered. He greets Natasha first, putting his drink down on the table she’s leaning against, and talking to her. Some of the others approach the bar top and you fetch them the drinks they request, making small talk for a few minutes before they head back towards the pool tables.

Bob and Natasha are still talking when you look back at them and he’s since grabbed a pool cue to play, but you see her look at his drink and the napkin you’d given Bob with it. She points at it, saying something you can’t hear. Bob walks back over to the table to look at it, while she takes his pool cue and starts playing against Jake.

You see Bob look down at the napkin, and then he’s pushing his glasses further up his nose and pinking it up to bring it closer to his face. Then he looks up and his big blue eyes meet yours from across the bar. He points at the napkin, and then at his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s got a tightlipped, nervous smile on his face. You nod, and you can’t help the giggles that come out as his entire face lights up, his smile becoming more relaxed and you can see the pink flush that spreads across his cheeks under the warm orange glow coming in from the big windows in the back of the bar near the pool tables.

(And when you get a text message later on from an unknown number, one that identifies themselves as Lieutenant Robert Floyd who hopes he entered in the right number and is looking forward to speaking with you again, you can’t help but hope that next week the others get delayed as well)

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