#SORRY THIS IS SHORT BUT it can be lengthened

[vitalphenomena]

@rvolving // yusuf

"Maybe I am a cynic."

She should be kicking rocks, based on her own tone. She would never behave so aimlessly, though.

"I'm just surprised you're not."

[theresascove]

put it down on me ₊ ⊹

farmhand!ellie williams x f!reader

ellie can’t help herself watching you look back at her while you twirl your hips on the dance floor at your local country club

tw: not proofread, STRAIGHT FILTHY SMUT, r can line dance, sexual tension, one night stand, fingering (r receiving), strap (r receiving), oral (e receiving), ROUGH CAR SEX, Ellie is packing in this, strap’s called Ellie’s dick, hair pulling, grinding, hot sex rly, Ellie calls reader miss

wc ✎ 2k

There was something about line dancing that was freeing. When you and your friends went out every weekend, you knew it would be a good night. Doing it since you were six, it’s like walking—it comes easily. The second you smell the leather, see the bodies around you, and feel the music blast in your bones—you felt like you were home. The collective slap of the boots hitting the wooden floor, seeing everyone turn on beat to the music—it just was freeing. You felt you could blend into the crowd and spin around and round until you were left dizzy with a wide smile on your face.

You couldn’t completely blend into the crowd sometimes. There were moments others noticed you. You usually shrugged it off or glared, not paying any mind—but this time, you noticed them the second you stepped in. Standing by the bar, leaning against the table—that’s where she was. The farmhand for your neighbors.

You’ve met before, only briefly though. Curt and friendly hellos. Now in this crowded room, you exchange the same friendly smile but don’t make a move to talk. You stick with your friends, and she does the same with hers.

Turns out the pair of eyes you felt on you was her. You spun to face the other wall and she wasn’t even trying to hide the way she was eyeing you up and down. Usually you ignored it—usually—but this time something arose in you, filling you with more confidence than normal.

You matched the steps of those around you, swinging side to side. It started out with short glances, checking and seeing if she was still looking. Quickly it transition to lengthened stares, eyes lidded and heavy. You were intentional with your movements, emphasizing a few more than others—like when you had to circle your hips.

Maybe an hour or two slid by. Your face started to feel sore with how you were smiling, laughing time to time when you watched a friend stumble on a step and forget a move. The final dance for the session rolled around, and the crowd had thickened since—more people wishing to join before the break started.

Maybe you’re dramatic, but your heart dropped when the crowd broke after the last dance and the auburn farmer wasn’t standing there any longer. You breathed deep, almost signing and spinning to find your friends. A loose blouse was came snapping into your view then, hands reaching to steady you.

“The fuck are you going?”

You backed up, hands pressing on her chest, “so sorry. I’m looking for my friends.”

“They’re behind you,” she says, eyes focused on you turn around to check for them, “I have a feeling you were looking elsewhere though.”

You look back to her, eyes wide, “what?”

“Am I wrong?”

The shock from her scaring you wares off and the adrenaline and attention from before comes back in waves. You’ve known her for sometime now, she’s not a stranger. But now with where you stand, you feel you’re seeing her in a different light.

“No,” you say, voice hushed, “no you’re not wrong.”

She grins with cockiness, “k. You into dancing?”

“Yeah, been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

You lean closer, “how could you tell?”

“What’re you up to?”

Her eyes are flicking around your face—and in that moment your mind decided that her grin was contagious and it ended up on your face. Everything she was doing, you were matching her energy, giving it right back at her.

“What do you feel I’m up to?”

You’re not completely sure, but when she corners you on the wall with her lips moving on yours—it feels so right you’re sure it’s what you were chasing. She had your hand in hers as she walked you two out of the club, out towards her car parked behind the establishment. Her iconic dusty and muddy car—it sat at the back, lights flickering on as you get close. She had you pressed against it first, hands sliding over your body.

You hum, leaning closer against her, “what do you have in mind?”

Her lips slide up your neck in a quick succession, hands moving the opposite way to grip at your hips and tug you closer, “get in the car.”

She opens the door, closing it once the two of you clamber into her tight back seat. You laugh as she crawls on top, arms flexing as they hold her body over yours. To have you, someone she’s been eyeing for a while, strip in the back of her car—it felt unreal.

You were beautiful. The low light from the street lamp shining through her car’s windows and highlighting the way your tits looked. Ellie had tore your shirt off, mouth almost dropping at what was under. You slide your hand behind you, smiling at her while you snap it off.

“Take it off, Els.”

And fuck she does, lips kissing at your collar bone and trailing down as she slides it off. You shiver when she kisses at your nipple, lips cold as a contrast to your warm skin. Shirts, bras, pants, then all final under garments—and she had you naked under her all the while she was still fully dressed above you. Her hands slid over you, moaning from time to time just from how you felt.

Her hands dug into your thighs before she jerked you—pretty much manhandling you further below her and forcing your legs to wrap around her hips so she could grind her core against yours. Her ego inflated when she noticed the way your eyebrows furrow at the feeling.

“Els—wait, are you?”

She hums, leaning to kiss you again. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to that information. A string of quiet gasps left you each time her jeans caught on the spot that made you see stars.

“Shit, please—“

Her fingers, now hot to the touch, slid down your body and one pushed into you. Her eyes had connected with yours before hand just so she could monitor your reactions. She moved quick, adding a finger every few thrusts—barely letting you adjust. With three now pushing into you, grinding up to your spot—you squirmed under her, eyes fighting to shut close from the feeling.

“Please,” you reach to dig onto her back, “please fuck me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she makes work with one hand snapping her pants open. You breathe deep, soaking her car seat beneath you with how much you were awaiting. Your mind’s a dazed mess, vision blurred from her. Nothing embarrassed you, not when how you were looking at her with need—legs spreading.

She kissed you with aggression, head pushed back against the door just as she also started to slide into you. You gasp, and she takes the moment to bite your bottom lip.

“Fuck Els,” you melt, hand gripping onto something behind your head. When she pushed back in, you moaned like some woman in a cheesy film titled, “big dick Brian.” She snapped her hips, setting a pace that drove you to the brink almost. She kept the same pace going, hips meeting yours in quick recessions.

You cried, lips brushing hers from how close your faces were. Her eyes were just as they were in the bar—pupils blown wide, lidded. This time you didn’t fight it when your eyelids closed. With the sight removed all you could focus on was how she was making you feel.

The feeling of her car’s fabric sliding as she brings you back onto her length, her pants and moans in your ear, how she opens you wide, the sounds it makes when her hips collide with yours. And fuck the sounds you’re making—higher pitched whines and cries. You ground your hips into here, voice heaving when it hits that spot. It almost hurts.

To have her like this, fucking into you with fever—hair falling onto your forehead. It was hot, you were sweating under her. You hiss when she pushes particularly deep, the feeling a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Shit, you taking this dick so well, here,” she sits back, pulling you with her.

“Pleasepleade don’t stop, please don’t—please.”

It’s so cute, how you get worried thinking she was stopping. She shushes you, putting a finger past your lips and pulling it down, “ride me.”

She has to help you at first, lifting your hips with her hands and shoving you back down on her. You gasp, head tilting back as you get use to the pace she sets. She spanks your ass, “what’d I just fucking say to do?”

You attempt to, but your pace is definitely slower and shakier than her assisted pace. It’s pathetic really, how you can’t even keep a consistent pace going to get you off.

“Ellie just fuck me,” you say into the hot air in her car, “please.”

She rolls her eyes, not putting you back to the position earlier—instead she hooks her arms around you and rests her feet on the floor to thrust into you. Her embrace, your moans, the feeling of her length splitting you even wider from this angle—fuck it drove you over the edge. You had reached a hand down, jolting at the overstimulation at first before pressing down on your clit. Your bottom lip fell in a silent sob, tears showing in your eyes from the sheer pleasure that wracked your body.

Ellie stopped, pulling you off of her to sit on the other side of the back seat. You looked to her with clouded vision, a need for her growing.

“Ellie,” you exclaim, moving towards her but she pushes you back.

“Hold on,” she huffs, pulling the strap off and dragging her pants down after.

Once they’re removed and slid onto the ground, she’s reaching to grab onto your hair—jerking you towards her. You get the signal, crouching down with your ass up to lick her from her hole to her clit over her underwear. She groans, hips jerking closer to your tongue. You laugh, the sound coming off slightly weird from how you were sucking onto her from over the garment still.

“You—“ she starts, pulling you back to remove the last article of clothing off, “come on.”

You eat her out right this time, flicking your tongue on her clit in such a way that makes her writhe. She looks close already, no doubt what happened earlier helped her sexual need rise. She holds you there, not letting you bring your head back too far from her dripping cunt.

“Yeah, yeah, like that. Shit.”

You go to moan just as she does, tasting her even more with how much she leaks after coming. You continue to until she’s had enough and pulls you off of her. You smile at her, reaching a hand up to brush at her hair that’s sticking to her face. She looks beautiful even after sex it just helped her even more. A shein layer of sweat on her body, making her glisten. The way she’s looking at you, and especially how she was when you ate her out just a second ago. Her fingers, tattoo—

“What’s your tattoo mean?”

She pulls you closer on top of her, exhaling, “I’ll explain the whole story later, might just have to stop by your place for some tea.”

[vandijkwrites]

sorry if you've already answered this 700 times, in which case totally feel free to ignore. but how do you lengthen your attention span? is it as simple as watching/reading progressively longer things?

First of, I am by no means an expert, but I'm happy to help as much as I can! There are a lot of great articles, books, and podcasts on the topic if you want any further info.

The most important thing to realize is why are attention spans are getting worse:

Information overload and distractions make it difficult to focus. (Ex. social media and text notification going off while you are doing other tasks)

Intentional multitasking gets your brain used to doing more than one thing at once so it becomes very difficult to make it do only one thing (Ex. having the tv on in the background while doing other tasks)

Consuming a lot of media focused on having minimal downtime and immediate gratification decreases our patience and ability to do slower tasks (Ex. watching a lot of action packed movies and short TikToks)

Getting constant small hits of dopamine from social media decreases our ability to do tasks that don't give us dopamine hits (Ex. getting likes from a post or messages from friends)

The solutions to most of these come down to two things: (1) Do only one thing at a time (2) Limit distractions from that task (3) Reduce immediate gratification

So some example of ways to do that would be:

Read a book without your phone being on hand to distract you.

Watch TV without multitasking.

Reduce time on social media, especially social media focused on short videos.

Spend a day or part of a day without technology.

Spend time with friends without looking at your phone.

Watch slow-form content like unedited lecture or panel videos where people are just speaking at their normal pace without cutting pauses.

Listen to music albums all the way through instead of shuffling and skipping.

Eat meals without multitasking (ie mindful eating)

Make yourself a cup of tea and sit on a park bench or by the window and watch some birds.

People-watch at the coffee shop.

Write long emails or letters to friends and family instead of short texts.

Call and have a conversation with a loved one without multitasking.

Meditate.

Take a walk and enjoy nature.

Don't scroll through your phone while waiting in a line.

Read long posts when you come across them on your dashboard.

Have an ebook on your phone to read whenever you would normally scroll through social media.

Don't go on your phone/online for a certain amount of time before bed.

If you are having trouble doing these things, try to do one tasks but increase the stimuli of that task. For example, read a book while listening to the audiobook at the same time. Or listen to music while watching a lyric video. These are great baby steps!

Another great baby step is (like you said in your question) doing things for progressively longer amounts of time! Set a timer for a certain number of minutes and then read without distraction for that amount of time. That way it won't feel like it is never ending and you can track your progress.

Obviously not all of these will be for everyone and some of these are too hard for people with ADHD or serious attention issues, but they are a good place to start!

I hope that helps 💕

[moonstruckme]

spencer reid with small boob reader!! i know he'd be so gentle and sweet

Thanks for requesting !

cw: pg-13 smut, insecurities around breast size

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 564 words

You’ve got no qualms with nudity. You rather enjoy it, actually, given the way Spencer looks at the whole expanse of your body like it’s something new and awe-inspiring and as if he couldn’t name every anatomical element of it in three languages. 

He’s quiet as he kisses you, reverent, hands roaming with scientific, exploratory touches until he finds something he likes. You gasp into his mouth. 

“Sorry.” Instantly, Spencer’s hold on your breast lightens. He backs up until he can see your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you laugh. “No, sorry, I was just surprised.” The slight tension in his face relaxes. “There’s not much to hurt anyway.” 

The joke is obvious in your tone, but Spencer doesn’t laugh. His eyes go all sweet and concerned instead. 

“What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, kissing up at him. “They’re little,” you say between lengthening pecks to his upper lip. Spencer’s got a lovely upper lip. Small but expressive, cupid’s bow shifting with every movement, you could devote an entire day to it. “Barely even there. Do whatever you want with them.” 

You feel his frown between your lips. Try to kiss it away, but to no avail. 

“They’re there,” Spencer says, pulling away so there’s a couple of inches between you. “I think they’re a good size.” 

You give him a good-natured, be serious look. “You don’t have to say that,” you tell him. “It’s fine, I accepted my meager endowment a long time ago.” 

His frown worsens, pulling his eyebrows together in the middle. “They are little, but that doesn’t make them less…” He seems to hesitate halfway through, a mild sheepishness touching his expression. “Nice. Women with larger breasts usually have pain in their upper back. Garcia says it’s not very enjoyable.” 

You laugh, your own face heating slightly at the clinical way he’s discussing this. “Yeah, I’ve heard.” 

“But you know,” Spencer goes on, “smaller breasts have been found to be more sensitive than larger ones.” 

You feel your eyebrows rise. You feel like a pre-teen, but you’re going to need him to say breasts a few more times in that voice of his. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Roughly twenty four percent more sensitive, actually.” 

You feel suddenly short of breath. Your eyes dip to where Spencer’s slender hand is still splayed over your boob, breathing a quiet, “Oh.” 

He hums, not following your gaze but undoubtedly aware of it as he leans down to press a pillowy soft kiss to your lips. “So I just want to be careful with you,” he says, his long thumb sweeping gently over your small mound, just barely skimming past your nipple. “Will you tell me if I do anything you don’t like?” 

You nod fervently, chin bumping his as you kiss up at him, but Spencer takes his time. He pecks gently at your bottom lip before his mouth migrates downwards, marking a path of adoration down your center until his lips come to rest on the inside of your left breast. You watch him the whole way, tense with anticipation and something far more fragile, and when he looks up at you through his lashes, eyes warm and soft and safe, you know Spencer sees both in your expression. 

“You’re okay with me touching them?” he checks quietly. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

It takes him a long while to stop.

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Werewolf/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,408 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You're injured on a hike, and your friend leaves you stranded. Luckily, a kind man is there to help - but he isn't all he seems.

The hiking trail stretched before you, a winding path through lush forest, dappled with the light of a setting sun. Jayne marched ahead, her pace brisk and determined, barely acknowledging the rugged beauty that surrounded you both.

You lagged behind, your muscles aching and your breath coming in short gasps.

"Come on, hurry up!" Jayne called over her shoulder, her tone tinged with impatience.

You mustered the energy to quicken your pace, but the pain in your limbs protested. "I'm going as fast as I can," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

Jayne stopped and turned to face you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "We need to get to the car park before dark."

You rolled your eyes, storming off ahead of Jayne as she continued to berate you. It was partly spite that spurred you on, partly knowing that she was right. It would be dark soon.

You were about to tell Jayne to hurry up when your leg snagged on a fallen branch. You stumbled, feeling something hit your leg as you tried to catch your balance.

The sudden pain was sharp, a white-hot flare that made you gasp, halting you in your tracks. You stumbled, reaching out to steady yourself against a tree.

"Are you okay?" Jayne's asked, although annoyance still made her scowl.

"I... I think I twisted my ankle," you managed through gritted teeth, the pain making it difficult to focus.

"I'll go back to the car and call for help," Jayne said decisively, already turning to leave.

The thought of being left alone, especially now with an injured ankle and the light rapidly fading, sent a wave of panic through you. "You're going to leave me here? Alone? I thought you said it wasn't safe to be out here after dark," you reminded her, heart skipping.

Jayne paused, her expression conflicted "I can only call for help from the parking lot; there's no signal here. Anyway, it makes sense for at least one of us to be safe in the car.”

The implication that your safety was somehow less important, that it was preferable to leave you vulnerable and alone, struck you as incredibly selfish.

"So, it's just about your safety, then?" you asked, incredulous.

Jayne's face hardened, a defensive edge creeping into her voice. "It's not like that, and you know it. What good would it do for both of us to be stuck out here?"

In the end, despite your protests, Jayne set off back down the trail, parking lot before it gets dark," she insisted, her gaze fixed on the rapidly fading light.

Annoyance bubbled up inside you, the day's frustrations finding a voice. "We wouldn't have to worry about the dark if you hadn't been late this afternoon," you retorted, the words sharper than intended.

“It’s not my fault your slow.”

"You always do this, Jayne!" you exclaimed, frustration now rising to the forefront. "You set this impossible pace and expect me to just keep up."

Jayne turned to face you, her hands on her hips. "It's not impossible. We've done hikes like this before. I just don't want us to be out here after dark. It's not safe," she countered, her voice firm.

"I get that, but maybe we wouldn't be in such a rush if someone hadn't overslept," you shot back, the tension between you crackling.

Jayne sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Look, I said I was sorry about that, but we can't change it now. We need to move."

Determined not to let the argument be the end of it, you pushed off from the ground, attempting to quicken your pace to match Jayne's. As you hurried to catch up, your foot caught on a hidden root, sending a jolt of pain up your leaving you abandoned and vulnerable as the shadows lengthened and the forest seemed to close in around you.

Time seemed to stretch into eternity as you waited, the dwindling light casting long shadows through the trees. Every so often, you checked your phone, hoping for a miracle of reception, but it remained stubbornly void of any signal.

The thought of Jayne returning with help began to feel more like a distant hope than a certainty.

As the forest grew darker, a sense of resignation settled over you. The idea of hobbling back to the parking lot on your own seemed daunting, yet the alternative—spending the night alone and injured in the woods—was far worse. Jayne's decision to leave, her potential to drive away in a fit of anger, wasn't entirely out of character, but the reality of being abandoned like this was a new low, even for her.

Just as you mustered the courage to test your weight on your injured ankle, a rustle from the underbrush made you freeze. Tension gripped you, the fear of being alone in the dark forest suddenly compounded by the presence of an unknown.

Then, he appeared. A man, tall and lean, emerged from the trees. His black hair was unkempt, as if he too belonged to the wilds, and his eyes—a striking shade of green-gold—almost glowed with an inner light.

"Do you need help?" His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to his rugged appearance.

Warily, you nodded, the instinct to distrust strangers warring with the immediate need for assistance. "Yes," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying your apprehension.

Something about him, maybe the genuine concern in his gaze or the calm assurance with which he surveyed the situation, eased the tight knot of fear in your chest.

“My name’s Nikhil, by the way.” His voice carried a faint accent, Indian, though you couldn't pinpoint where specifically. It was soft, though, and mellow in a way that had you relaxing despite your worry.

"I can help you walk," Nikhil offered, stepping closer. "You can lean on my shoulder, or if you prefer, I can carry you."

There was a lightness in his tone, a smile on his lips. Despite the situation, Nikhil seemed to find a way to lighten the mood, his confidence reassuring.

"No, thanks," you replied, managing a small smile despite the blush overtaking your cheeks. "An arm around your shoulder is fine."

As you tentatively placed your arm around him, you were immediately struck by his strength. His lean frame belied the solidity of his build, his muscles tensing under your touch as he carefully adjusted to support your weight.

The walk back was slow and awkward, each step a careful negotiation of the uneven ground and your compromised balance. Nikhil moved with a surprising grace, his steps sure and steady, contrasting the faltering nature of your own.

"Never thought I'd be someone's knight in shining armour," Nikhil joked, his voice light, trying to ease the tension.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. You didn’t quite know what to say to that, so you said nothing.

The silence that enveloped you both was neither awkward nor entirely comfortable; it carried a tinge of tension. You found yourself searching for something, anything, to fill the void, to ease the growing restlessness in your mind.

It was Nikhil who broke the silence, his voice cutting through the stillness of the evening. "Were you hiking alone?" he inquired.

You hesitated, the memory of Jayne's departure still fresh, still stinging. "No, I was with a friend. She went to get help... about an hour and a half ago," you admitted, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Nikhil's brows knit together in a frown, a subtle shift in his expression. "That's odd," he mused, his gaze thoughtful. "We're not that far from the parking lot. It shouldn't have taken this long for her to get help—or to come back."

The implication of his words hung between you, undeniable. You knew, deep down, that Jayne's absence had stretched too long, her promise to return with help fading with each passing minute. The realisation, coupled with Nikhil's observation, cemented a growing dread in the pit of your stomach.

Despite the unease, Nikhil's steady presence, the warmth of his shoulder supporting you, offered a sliver of comfort in the midst of uncertainty. His concern, though offered by a stranger, felt genuine, a small beacon of hope on the long walk back.

As you continued to hobble along, leaning heavily on Nikhil, a sharp spike of pain shot through your ankle, forcing you to stop. "I need a moment," you gasped, stumbling.

Nikhil gently helped you to a fallen log, his concern evident as he knelt to examine your ankle. The skin was stretched tight, ankle puffy and swollen.

"It's definitely sprained," he concluded, his voice laced with sympathy. He looked up at you, his green-gold eyes serious in the dim light. "I know a shortcut," he said. "It's off the trail, but it'll get us to the parking lot faster."

The suggestion set off alarm bells in your mind. Going off-trail, especially in your condition and with night closing in, seemed like a recipe for disaster. "I don't know," you hesitated. "Isn't that a bad idea?"

Nikhil's assurance was immediate. "I know this forest well," he said, though the vagueness of his claim did little to quell your apprehensions. "Trust me."

"How well do you know it?" you pressed, seeking something concrete to hold onto in the sea of uncertainties.

He offered a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's just say I've spent a lot of time here," he replied, the ambiguity of his answer doing little to satisfy your curiosity.

Despite your reservations, the desire to end the ordeal, to be back in the safety and comfort of the familiar, won out. You nodded. "Okay, let's go."

As you ventured off the marked trail, the forest seemed to close in around you, the trees standing like silent sentinels in the darkness. Then, cutting through the stillness, a lone wolf howled, the sound eerie and unsettling in the quiet of the night.

You froze, a new wave of fear washing over you. "I didn't think there were wolves here," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Nikhil's hand found yours, his grip reassuring. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice steady and calm. "We'll be fine."

As you pressed on, the determination to keep moving overrode the throbbing pain in your ankle. The fear of being vulnerable in the dark, unfamiliar woods urged you to ignore the discomfort, to focus on the path ahead.

In your haste, your foot caught on something, sending you stumbling forward. Before you could brace for the fall, Nikhil's arms were around you, pulling you back against his chest. For a moment, you were acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the strength in his embrace, and the faint scent of pine that seemed to cling to him.

"Careful," he chided gently, a hint of amusement in his voice. You found yourself face-to-face with him, and the proximity offered a new perspective. His features, which had seemed rugged and mysterious in the dim light of the trail, now carried a softness, an approachability that made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Thanks for catching me," you managed to say, a mix of gratitude and newfound awareness colouring your tone.

Nikhil's smile widened, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. "Any time," he replied with a grin. You noticed sharp canines, and something in you tightened.

He straightened, his hands still steadying you. "We're nearly there," he promised, though the exact destination remained as vague as his familiarity with the woods. "Do you want me to carry you? It might be easier."

Considering the pain in your ankle and the unsettling howls that seemed to follow you, you nodded. "Yes, thank you," you said, embarrassment making your cheeks flush.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure it was entirely necessary for him to carry you, and yet you couldn’t say no.

As Nikhil carefully lifted you into his arms, you heard another chorus of howls, closer this time, sending a shiver down your spine. "Those wolves," you began, your voice tight with concern, "you're sure they're not dangerous?"

Nikhil's pace didn't falter as he carried you, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "They're not a danger to us," he reassured you, his confidence unshaken. The certainty in his voice was meant to comfort, but it only confused you more. How could he be so sure?

Your mind raced with questions, but the warmth of his hold and the steady rhythm of his stride lulled you into a sense of security.

Silence settled over you again, as you tried to subtly bury yourself into Nikhil’s hoodie. He kept walking, and eventually the trail gave way to the more familiar terrain of the parking lot.

The sight of the open space, bathed in the yellow glow of the overhead streetlights, had relief flooding through you. Nikhil carefully set you down, his arms lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft. The proximity, the rush of your own pulse, had you wanting to close the space between you and Nikhil. To kiss him.

As Nikhil stepped back though, the artificial light cast him in a new perspective. For the first time, you saw him clearly, and the sight took your breath away. His eyes, under the harsh glare of the streetlights, held an unmistakable glow. The sharpness of his canines, visible as he offered you a reassuring smile, and the poised, almost predatory grace with which he held himself, suggested a nature far removed from the human.

The realisation struck you so suddenly, it knocked the breath from your lungs. The man who had guided you through the darkness, who had offered comfort and protection, was not entirely what he seemed..

What was he?

As Nikhil noticed your lingering gaze, he seemed to retreat instinctively, away from the light. The subtle shift in his demeanour didn't escape your notice; it was as if he was suddenly wary.

"Why do your eyes glow like that?" you asked, the question driven by a mix of fascination and a need to understand the man who had been your unexpected saviour.

"It's nothing," Nikhil brushed off, his voice carrying a finality that suggested the topic was off-limits. "I should go now that you're safe."

Your curiosity was piqued, and his evasive answer only served to fuel it further. "Please," you persisted, stepping closer to the edge of the shadows in an attempt to see him more clearly. "There's something... different about you."

The night air was punctuated by another howl, closer this time, its tone carrying an almost human quality that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound seemed to resonate with something within Nikhil, as he shivered.

As you watched, his eyes glowed brighter. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. It was ridiculous to even think it, but…

Nikhil didn't have to say the words for you to understand; he wasn’t human. He was something other, something strange and supernatural. It should have scared you, but when you looked at Nikhil’s angular face and unsure smile, it was impossible to be afraid.

"I... I understand," you said, finally, “you don’t have to tell me.”

As the cool night air sent a shiver through you, Nikhil seemed to notice from the edge of the shadows. Stepping forward, he shed his hoodie, offering it to you with a gentle, "Here, take this."

Wrapped in the warmth of his hoodie, the fabric carrying the faint scent of pine and something uniquely him, you couldn't help but smile. "How am I supposed to get this back to you?" you asked with a smile.

Nikhil's response was light, his eyes twinkling with amusement in the dim light. "Guess we'll just have to meet up again," he replied. He reached out as if to touch you, only to pause, brows furrowed.

The idea sparked something within you, a flicker of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. "How about Friday at two?" you ventured. "I could bring a picnic, or we could go somewhere nice for lunch..."

"Sounds perfect," Nikhil agreed, his voice warm. The simple plan seemed to solidify something between you, something you couldn’t place.

Nikhil took a step closer, closing the distance with a certainty that seemed to pull you in. The warmth of his hoodie enveloped you, his scent—a mix of the wild forest and something uniquely him—filled your senses.

His arms encircled you, strong and reassuring, drawing you into his embrace. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to stand still, the noise of the forest fading into a distant hum. The kiss was soft, a gentle inquiry that you answered willingly, deepening the connection as your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his tousled hair.

Nikhil tasted of pine and coffee. He drew you in, tongue teasing your lower lip and you gladly gave him entrance; he was soft and warm and everything you needed, even as sharp canines dug into your skin.

Gently, you pulled away from the kiss, lips tingling. Nikhil, sensing your need to catch your bearings, tenderly kissed your forehead before stepping away.

"I'll be here, Friday at two," he promised. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, slightly worn piece of paper and scribbled down his phone number. "Just in case," he added with a smile, handing it to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound breaking the lingering tension. "I didn't expect you to have a phone," you teased, a playful challenge in your tone.

Nikhil's response was a light, amused chuckle. "I might spend a lot of time in the woods, but I do have a house. With electricity and everything," he countered, his grin infectious.

“Good. I’ll call you, then.”

Turning towards the parking lot, the reality of your situation came back into focus. There, just as you'd left it, was the car. Jayne watched you from the back seat. Relief washed over you at the sight.

With a final glance back at Nikhil, who watched you with a look that was both protective and promising, you made your way to the car. You waved, and he waved back. Something soft settled in your chest.

As you reached the car and gently opened the door, the interior light flicked on. Blinking against the sudden brightness, she squinted up at you, confusion etched across her face. "Who was that?" she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Just someone who helped me," you replied, keeping the details sparse as you slid into the front passenger seat.

Jayne shifted, sitting up straighter. "I did call for help, you know," she said, her voice defensive. "But my signal was all over the place. I'm not even sure the call went through."

The explanation did little to quell the frustration that bubbled up inside you. "Why didn't you come back, then?" you asked, the question laced with the lingering hurt of being left alone.

Jayne's apology was quick, her gaze dropping as she admitted, "I didn't want to risk getting lost too... I thought it was better to wait by the car."

The silence that followed was heavy. While part of you acknowledged that Jayne's fear of getting lost was valid, the decision to leave you stranded still stung. It was clear that, although the ordeal had ended safely, the trust in your friendship had been shaken.

"I understand," you finally said, the words diplomatic yet distant. "I think this should be our last hike together."

Jayne, sensing the tension, quietly climbed into the driver's seat, her movements cautious. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" she asked, her concern genuine despite the awkwardness that now hung between you.

You shook your head, settling into the passenger seat with a weary sigh. "No, I'll just ice it when I get home. I'll see how it feels tomorrow." The last thing you wanted was to extend the evening any further with a trip to the hospital, especially with Jayne's company, which had become strangely unwelcome in light of recent events.

As the car pulled away from the forest,  you cast a lingering glance through the rear window. There, at the very edge of the treeline, stood Nikhil, a solitary figure blending with the shadows.

A small, grateful smile found its way to your lips as you waved Nikhil goodbye. He raised a hand and waved back, before vanishing into the trees.

Despite everything that had happened tonight, you were grateful for one thing; Nikhil.

[zahmaddog]

Part 3: Truth & Intimacy

Part 1: Making Friends on Pabu

Part 2: The Warning

Warnings: Actual smut this time (below the 2nd cut mid-way through); hand job; minors GTFO; romance; fluffy AF; slow slow burn, comfort; soft-hearted and gentle Crosshair; did I say fluff? Crosshair x fem!reader | Word Count: 1996

Third time writing fan fiction and first time writing some smut. It's not like crazy smutty, but like enough that I'll definitely throw a warning on there. I'm just diving into this whole Tumblr world full-speed ahead. This chapter is pretty short, in case someone wanted to skip the smut at the end and continue with the plot when the next chapter drops. I hope you enjoy.

The silence screamed aboard your ship. Whisking away into hyperspace, you and Crosshair sat side-by-side without words. You closed your eyes tight and tried to focus long enough to clear your head, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. They’ll double-check the coordinates. The Empire will return to Pabu regardless. How can you get rid of the holocron safely? Who is Lord Vader? Crosshair broke the silence.

“I can hear your thoughts from here,” he calmly confessed. Opening your eyes, you looked at him with an expression of defeat. 

“I’ve made a bit of a mess,” you sighed. “I have this incredible ability to create life threatening situations unintentionally.” 

“You owe me —-” Crosshair started.

“I owe you my life,” you interjected. 

“Let’s start with an explanation,” Crosshair imposed. 

Not knowing where to begin, you stand up from the cockpit and walk to the back of your ship to retrieve your bag. Crosshair spun his captain’s chair around and put a toothpick between his lips. 

You unzip the backpack and pull out the holocron —- which was no longer glowing.

“I took this from my old boss’ warehouse. It was filled with trash we collected off targets…Sometimes they’d have items worth selling for extra credits. Nobody wanted this and it intrigued me.” “What is it?” Crosshair leaned forward in his chair to look closer. You tossed him the pyramid to study it. “It’s Jedi,” you began. “Now that they’re mostly all gone, I figured it was worthless. I didn’t think the Inquisitors were Jedi, but that thing lit up bright red when that Inquisitor on Pabu touched it.”

Crosshair narrowed his eyes, “What are you implying?” “I have a new theory that the Empire is run by Jedi or —- force wielders as that Inquisitor said to you. I used to think Inquisitors were only using Jedi technology, like the lightsaber. In a sense, they’re the scariest bounty hunters in the galaxy with that weaponry.” You pointed to the pyramid and began, “But that artifact responded to their touch —- to the force. It lit up. If they wield the force, aren’t they Jedi?” 

You paused for a moment, thinking through the layers of events. Crosshair continued to study the pyramid’s sides in silence.

“We should warn Hunter and Wrecker that the Empire might return to Pabu to look for it,” you said to Crosshair, taking the pyramid back into your hands.

“Already did,” Crosshair confirmed. He inhaled deeply, “What’s our next move?”

“Our next move?” You lashed out slightly. Feeling overwhelmed, you took a breath and put your hand over your eyes. “I’m sorry — ”

“You don’t want me here?” Crosshair asked.

The ship hummed with the frequencies of hyperspace. 

“Why’d you come find me?” You softly countered.

The ship continued to be the only audible voice for a lengthened moment. It appeared that you and Crosshair had finally reached a sort of impasse, fueled by the feelings both of you wouldn't admit. You both waited for the other to confess first. You bit the bullet and began,

“I — want to protect you,” you admitted. You looked to Crosshair for his confession.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said just above a whisper. 

He stepped over to you and tested the waters of physical affection by running his hand down your arm and grasping your hand. You turned into him and reached your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He matched your embrace, his hands running across your waist and back. He held you until you felt yourself calm down.

Releasing your grip just enough to look up into his eyes, your gaze traced down from his cheekbones to his lips and toothpick. You reached up to grasp the toothpick and lightly tried to pull it out. Crosshair bit down on it and raised his eyebrows to silently question your actions. He moved one hand from your back to your head, lightly gripping your hair and skull, then his mechanical hand taking his toothpick. His nose traced yours to your lips, where he froze. 

“This doesn’t change that I’m still upset with you,” he admitted. 

Crosshair moved in to kiss you. The passion burned as the previously untapped gates of unexpressed affections burst open. You traced your tongue across his bottom lip as the kiss deepened, he welcomed you with a matched intensity. Crosshair pulled back from the kiss, much sooner than you were ready for. Your lips trailed after him before you opened your eyes to see him lost in a soft smile. 

—-

To save fuel, you landed your ship in a cave on a cold moon. You hadn’t told Crosshair that credits and chaincodes weren’t a problem for you, but you were still conservative with resources as finding safe places to fuel up would be a challenge. 

You poured yourself and Crosshair a drink, then sat back at the table ready to hash out ideas on escaping your predicament. 

“So, it’s not like we can just sell this thing,” you noted while tossing the pyramid-shaped artifact into the air. “And, I’m unfortunately marked for having possession of it.”

“Why was the Empire interested in arresting you for having it? Why couldn’t they just take it?” Crosshair questioned as he took out a toothpick to ponder with.

“Perhaps it’s because I know too much…” you started, then hesitated forward, “Or it’s because I’m a deserter.”

“You? A deserter? Not only did you do bounty jobs for the Empire, but you were… Imperial?” Crosshair’s narrowed, focused glare zeroed in on you.

You shamefully nodded. “Crosshair, I’m a Tarkin,” you testified.

His gaze grew more intense; you forgot how intimidating this man could be, especially when caught off-guard. He reached carefully for his words.

“As in, you’re related to Admiral Tarkin?” Crosshair entreated.

“Have you had the pleasure of knowing my Uncle?” you gawked out of contempt.

Crosshair leaned back into the bench and sighed. 

“I once worked in a unit as a specialty sniper and commander, which was overseen by Admiral Tarkin,” Crosshair admitted. “And I had a few run-ins with him prior as well.”

“You were imperial?” you gasped. “I’m sorry I never asked more about your past,” you apologized.

“It’s not something I like to think about,” Crosshair shrugged.

“So, technically, you’re a deserter too,” you soothed.

“I am now.” Crosshair concluded. “So, the Empire is not only after you for this Jedi-artifact, but is after you for treason.”

“Treason, family betrayal, or creating a mockery of the Tarkin name,” you bantered and paused in thought: “Crosshair, they’ll crucify me.” 

The conversation froze under the magnitude of realizations. Crosshair shifted his toothpick back and forth between the sides of his mouth, lost in thought.

“Thanks again for saving me earlier from the Inquisitor,” you broke the silence, “I want you to know, if I am captured later, don’t risk anything more for me. I dug my own grave by turning my back on them.”

Crosshair filled with empathy and experience, reached across the table and took your hand. “We’re doing this together.” Hunter’s voice played in his mind from when he once had said something similar outside of Tantis. Crosshair repeated Hunter’s words out loud, “Don’t you dare think about Plan 99.”

“Plan 99?” you questioned.

“During our time with the republic, we organized nearly a hundred different plans to infiltrate bases, destroy droids, and more. Plan 99 is to sacrifice yourself for the greater good; but only when there is no other alternative…” He hesitated to say more, “It’s only been used once.” “Tech,” you muttered.

“Tech,” Crosshair nodded in return. 

You stood up from your side of the table and squeezed in close to Crosshair on the bench, wrapping him into the comfort you could offer. He leaned into you and closed his eyes.

“So partner,” you smirked to lift the room’s atmosphere, “I suppose we could hit the underworld of Coruscant and tap into the black markets to dispose of this.”

“Maker, you are so reckless.” Crosshair muttered without bothering to open his eyes or shift in position.

—--------

Descending into the haze of Coruscant, you relayed a chaincode into the transponder and was directed to a platform to land.

“Why was that so easy?” Crosshair glanced over to you.

“I’m prepared at least half the time,” you assured him. You glanced down at your dirty shirt and pants, then ruffled your hand through your hair. “I’m due to freshen up too. A disguise wouldn’t be a bad thing —,” you eyed Crosshair’s Pabu-living beach outfit up and down, “for the both of us,” you continued.

“You have clothes for me?” He side-eyed you.

“I’m full of surprises,” you relayed as you landed your cruiser and killed the engines. “Come on,” you stood up and headed to the back of your ship.

“I still can’t believe you gunned down an Inquisitor in sandals,” you laughed while opening your closet in the back of the ship. “Sorry, this isn’t much.”

You threw him a basic black top and dress trousers. 

“They’ll do,” he grunted. 

—-smut below the cut—---

Disappearing into the lavatory, you turned the water on in the shower, allowing it to heat and steam the room. As the water recycled and filtered, you threw your freshly stripped shirt at Crosshair and paused looking around the door frame.

“Want to join me?” You called to him. Crosshair’s heart seemed to skip a beat, but he retained his composure.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” He scoffed a little. 

“Obviously,” you said from the shower. “Is it working?”

Crosshair, tired and frustrated with the overarching situation, exhaled, knowing he would regret it if he didn’t join you. He wandered into the bathroom, stripped himself of his shirt and trousers, opened the shower curtain, to find you wet and naked. 

“Yeah, it’s working,” he smirked. “Do we really have time… for this? For us?” He stepped inside, closing the curtain behind him, with his eyes focused on you.

“No one knows we are here,” you mused as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into the water stream. The water droplets tracing down his jaw line and dripping onto his chiseled chest. His hands wandered from your head, to your waist, then thighs as his nose traced yours until your lips met, beginning a gentle kiss. 

Tracing your lips across his cheek, you drag your lower lip down his neck, and suck slightly on his collar bone. He faintly moans and grips your upper thigh tighter. Your hair and hands still soapy from the shampoo you applied earlier, you smoothly maneuver your hand across his chest and down his abs, pausing at his hip bone. 

“What are you waiting for?” He breathed. 

“Is this okay?” You peppered. Taking your hand in his, he pushed you further down his waistline, guiding you towards his sex. With his length in your hand, you return to kiss him deeply. Crosshair’s breathing grew heavier as you fell into a rhythm of movement; his lips and tongue dancing with yours. Enjoying his intimate noises and expressions, you expand your hand and mouth’s wanderings. Nearly losing balance from pleasure, Crosshair caught himself on the shower wall with one arm and continued to hold you close with the other. 

“Did you—,” you began.

“Yeah,” he inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry if I didn’t last—”

“I’m flattered,” you smiled.

You softly ran your nails over his hip bones and up his chest into another warm embrace. His limbs shuddered as he collapsed more into you, still holding himself up with the shower wall. You reached behind him and poured some shampoo into your palm, returning back to him and massaging his neck and skull. Crosshair rests his forehead against yours and looks deeply into your eyes; his expression, almost sad. You pause your massage efforts.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

“I never knew I could be so loved,” he confided. 

“Get used to it,” you returned to caress him further.

—-- Part 4: Not Alone

----- Tag list: @tentakelspektakel

[mayakern]

I couldn't justify buying the short sleeve button ups because of sensory issues with short sleeves. while I'm sorry they aren't returning for their fans, I am excited for a long sleeved version I can actually wear to work. Long sleeves can become short sleeves, short ones can't become long. Thank you for being willing to try something new for us

that was a lot of the consensus amongst our team, too! that the people who would be interested in and able to afford a button down made with good material + ethical labor, with unique prints, at our price point, would most likely be people working a job where, frequently, a long sleeve button down is part of the dress code. and that sleeves can be made shorter but couldn’t be lengthened.

[paracosmenthusiast]

The Apple Orchard

A very quick Neo x Reader AU in an apple orchard... Just some more lovely Keanu fluff <3

WC: 1.4k

~

Sweet, spicy cinnamon wafted up toward your face, splintered by the scent of warm, fresh apple.

With a long sigh, you kicked your legs out, stretching your arms up above your head. Your apple cider in question was sitting on the folding table in front of you, right next to a stack of cardboard boxes and a slightly sticky scale that had seen better and considerably less fruity days.

Working at the you-pick apple orchard was one of your better seasonals, and even one that you could almost claim you enjoyed. If it wasn’t for days like this—slow days when nobody even stopped by to check out the place, and you were alone with a cloudy sky and a chilly breeze.

Currently, you were resting your feet after taking a long lap around the orchard, trusting that at nearly seven pm (quitting time!) on a Sunday, you wouldn’t be particularly busy with customers. And if any customers had stopped by and noticed the back-in-five sticky note you’d placed on the scale, they hadn’t stuck around to greet you.

Which you were fine with. Just fine with.

Theeen you heard the rolling crunch of tires on asphalt, and you snapped to attention, jolting upright in your chair and leaning forward to scan the driveway. It was shielded by apple trees, by you could make out headlights through the leaves and branches.

The sun was long gone by now, as result of the ever-lengthening autumn nights, and at that moment, staring dumbly at headlights, shivering in cute but seasonally ineffective overalls, you started to get a little wary.

What was the groundskeeper’s name? Gary? Garrett? Was he working today? You reached for the lockbox, fumbling with the key in the dark to get to the little list of phone numbers you’d been left with.

A quiet clearing-of-the-throat had you looking up from your unsuccessful attempt to open the lockbox, and you were rewarded with a tall guy, about your age, looking a little perplexed. Brow slightly furrowed. “Sorry, is the orchard closed?”

He was tall, dark, and his voice was deliciously husky, like he’d just woken up. You stared at him for a moment, suddenly feeling that your overalls were more than enough to keep you warm, and then you realized he was waiting for a response.

“Oh—no! No, sorry, we’re still open! You can take a box, and, um, really it’s self explanatory, just go and pick to your heart’s content and then I’ll weigh you out at the end.” You hurried up from your seat, pulling the stack of boxes apart so you could hand one to him.

He walked forward, reaching out to take the box from you, and rewarded you with an adorably crooked smile.

You melted at that, gazing back at him and thinking you could stare into those pretty brown eyes forever.

“Are you...” He let out a short laugh and stepped forward, pushing his hair out of his eyes so he could smile at you again. “Working much longer?”

“Just until 7.” Then you would have to pack up, stash the table, the chair, the lockbox… Call the groundskeeper…

“Hey,” he said, quietly, and you snapped back to alert, feeling your cheeks brighten in response.

“Sorry. Excuse me. It’s been a long 12 hours.” You laughed, but the sound was weak.

He glanced over his shoulder, absently flipping the cardboard box over in his hands, and then looked back at you with a rakish grin that stole the wind from your lungs. “Okay, crazy idea here. But I could really use the help of an apple expert like you. I’m home for the holidays and Mom wants to bake this pie from scratch with me...”

He raised his eyebrows, trailing off expectantly, still turning the box over and over.

Absolutely. You definitely wanted to show him the best trees to pick from. He could reach for all the high-up apples you’d spent the last 12 hours staring at. What were the chances of another person coming by the booth in the last 15 minutes before closing?

You came out from around the table, forcing yourself to walk leisurely and not to run, and flipped the sign on the table to CLOSED.

“Sure,” you pointed him down the nearest lane of trees, fighting back a smile of your own. “All the best ones are down this way.”

He tucked the box under his arm, falling in step beside you, and just as you were congratulating yourself on keeping your composure in front of an incredibly attractive guy, it happened.

Your foot landed on a rotten apple and you slipped.

Just as you were cursing the groundskeeper, already preparing for the mortification of falling in front of said incredibly attractive guy, fate intervened. You felt his arm wrap around your waist and pull you sharply to the side, so your back was pressed to his chest.

You froze. He froze. Collectively, your breaths fogged in the poor lighting, a cloud of frozen particles hanging in front of your faces.

He released you, and that husky voice was nearly urgent. “Are you alright?”

You turned to face him, blaming the pink to your cheeks on the dropping temperatures. “I’m fine! Thank you. For catching...”

He was holding onto your hand. When did that happen? His hand was warm, his palm and fingers calloused but gentle.

“Um,” you said, rather breathlessly, because you were still so close and his touch had incited a furor of butterflies in your stomach.

“You sure you’re alright? Your fingers are freezing.” His voice dropped, so you had to lean in to hear, and then he flashed you a quick, brilliant smile, there for an instant before he was looking at you very seriously.

“I don’t know.” You feigned intense worry. “It could be a precursor to frostbite, don’t you think?”

That smile came back, and he dropped the cardboard box, taking both of your hands in his and pulling you forward, even closer, so you were nearly touching, so he could bring your hands close to his face. For an instant, you were certain he would kiss your knuckles, but instead he breathed out, slowly, blowing warm air over your frozen digits.

You shivered, but this time it wasn’t the cold.

“You think… Maybe we should get out of here? Warm up someplace.” He released your hands, and moved instead to grasp your shoulders, one hand sliding down your ribs and hovering at your hip.

“What about the apples?” Your voice came out a whisper, a breath that froze in the air and dissipated just as quickly. With your hand pressed to his chest you could feel his heart beating, hard. He licked his lips, glanced away, and by the time he met your eyes again, you had all the answer you needed.

He gripped your chin, gently, brushing his thumb along the length of your jaw. Eyes fixed on your lips.

You were studying him, too, mesmerized by the pale of his skin and dark of his eyes and hair, by the little scar running through his eyebrow. He leaned in, and you tipped your head back, sliding your hand up from his chest to the back of his neck.

His lips brushed your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and you kissed him before he could pull away.

It was wonderful—his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you sharply to his chest, the smell of his cologne, something spicy and subdued but still tingling in your nose as you breathed. Felt him, grinning as he kissed you, as his teeth grazed your lip.

It was wonderful, and then it was over. Just as quickly as it happened, he pulled back, keeping your chest pressed to his but looking you over very carefully.

You were overwhelmed, almost, by the look on his face, his eyes fixed on something about your throat. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline making your hands shake.

Slowly, he raised a hand, abandoning his grip on your hip. Instead, he looped a finger through the dainty chain around your neck, pulling it out from underneath your shirt.

He studied it, the white gold charm depicting a rabbit, for only an instant before his eyes flicked back up to meet yours.

That rakish grin spreading quick over his face.

“What?” You were breathless. Chest heaving.

He leaned back in, letting your necklace fall back to its place against your throat. “Nothing. Just think I may have been looking for you.”

You pushed your fingers into his hair and guided his lips back to yours.

~

thanks!

[babblingeccentric]

A snippet of smut from the Ace x Survivor!Reader

You're indolent with satisfaction now, draped over Ace with your hot breath puffing against his neck. You swear you can feel your heartbeat in your clit, still sensitive and swollen from cumming. 

Ace moves a little under you, repositioning himself in his shorts. 

"Good?" He asks you.

"Mmm-hmmm" you hum and turn on his lap to a more comfortable position. Your thigh presses against his very hard dick and he groans, low and deep in his chest.

You startle and then look at him. His head is tipped back to the ceiling, his eyes hazy, and his lips are kiss swollen. He looks good like this. You want him. It's startling in its sudden clarity.

You lean into him, your faces close.

"Do you want more?" Your hand hovers above his waistband.

"Huh? Oh, Babe you don't gotta. I can take care-"

"I want." You interrupt. "To- to touch you. And make you…" you trail off.

"Oh! Okay! Shit, yeah you can. Whatever you want." Ace says, perking up. He fumbles at his belt "How do you wanna do this? What do you wanna do? You wanna stay like this? Or we could move. Do you want me to not touch you or…"

"I want it like this. And- I wanna be in charge. But you can maybe, um, help? I've never done this to someone I've liked before."

"Yeah, sure, baby, however you wanna do it." He says as he jerks his zipper down finally relieving some discomfort.

His dick…looks like a dick. Dick shaped, he's uncut and flushed at the head with wiry black hair at the end of his treasure trail that you've eyed so often. But somehow it's prettier, more appealing because it's attached to him.

You reach down and run a finger along the underside which makes his dick twitch. Like every part of him it's hot to the touch. Ace makes a soft hum of encouragement as you wrap your hand around him.  You suck at the string of hickies blooming along his neck. You're always prickly and embarrassed when the older engineers tease you about Ace's new bruises, but you can never remember to stop yourself when you're on his lap. It wouldn't be so bad if he would just wear a shirt sometimes.

Watching him intently you pump your hand up and down along his dick. He groans again.

"You can hold it tighter, you won't hurt me. Or actually- hold on." He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand up to his mouth, licking a stripe up your palm before spitting into it.

You scowl and try to jerk away to wipe your palm on the sheets, reminded of childish pranks.

"Wait, no, leave it! Everything's easier when it's wetter." His free hand squeezes the back of your thigh, fingertips close to your cunt and reminding you of your own tacky wetness.

You return your grip to his dick to continue to pump and Ace's head tips back to the ceiling again. He looks so good like this, every muscle on display and chest heaving. 

You start to run your thumb over the head when you pull back up to the tip and play with the foreskin teasing the edge of it. 

"Shit, Babe." He says. "God. I'm not gonna last long. Sorry."

"S'okay. Wanna see you cum." You tell him and he shuts his eyes and swears.

You keep pumping him and watching and when he opens his eyes he can feel your big dark ones pinning him down. It makes him groan.

"Here, try…" he tugs at your hand to lengthen the pull until the heel of your hand presses against his balls on the downstroke. He wraps his arms around you and his hips start to jump into the strokes. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. I'm gonna cum" he says and his breaths turn to hiccuping pants 

"Do I need to do something?" You ask.

"Shit, Babe just don't stop" he says and you keep stroking as his breath gets more and more ragged.

His cock kicks and he cums all over his chest as you watch intently. It's beautiful. He falls asleep almost as soon as his breathing returns to normal.

[mirkwoodmunson]

hi! idk how i thought of this please don’t judge me but idk if you’ve ever watched twilight but she almost gets hit by a car and Edward saves her and then gaslights her and the entire time i was watching this scene i was like boooo eddie would neverrrrr. eddie’s the better edward Cullen🤣😭

so anyway could you possibly write where reader almost gets hit by a car and eddie saves her but instead of gaslighting her he comforts her

i’m so sorry if this is so weird lol

NO I LOVE THIS IDEA I LOVE IT!!!!

today, of all days, is the day eddie's van decides to sputter and die just as you're cruising down the road less traveled to his place. you're blissfully unaware of the problem until he's cursing softly under his breath, smacking the wheel with a grunt.

"goddamn piece of- ..." he groans as the van chokes and wheezes, and when you look over with concern, he tries to ease you with a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes as he steers the slowing vehicle onto the shoulder, steam beginning to puff from beneath the hood.

"wh— what's goin' on, eds?"

"our trusty steed is, uh. no longer trusty, sweetheart. how d'you feel about a walk?"

it was a pretty nice day out, and it wasn't like you could call for a ride. taking the back road also meant that waiting for a car to come by would possibly take a while. while eddie finds himself beneath a sudden cloud, you manage once again to be his sun as you smile bright and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“it’s okay! i don’t mind; we’re not far now anyway. when we get home maybe wayne’ll be home from work and he can drive us back, and then we can fix ‘er up,” you pat the dashboard with your other hand, and now his smile fills his doe eyes. you’d called it ‘home.’ lightened his heart so easily with your brightness.

a few minutes later and, hand in hand, you’re making your way along the shoulder down the road, down a bit of an incline. there’s a soft breeze, birds calling from the trees that fill the space on either side of the road, you find yourself gazing all around to take in the view. beside you eddie watches how, without trying, you’re both stepping in time with the other, smiles soft and shy when you squeeze his hand, smooths his thumb over your knuckles and marvels that he gets to hold onto you.

when your hand slides from his grasp he looks up right away, opening his mouth to say something, but he just laughs softly when he sees what’s got your attention.

“eds! eds look over there!” you’re pointing across the road into the woods on that side, and eddie follows your gesture with his eyes, just barely catching sight of a family of deer among the trees. he looks only for a second, then back at you, and a realization hits him that you’ve made your way into the middle of the road, trying to get closer for a better look without startling them.

all of it seems to happen in the span of a second, but once the oncoming car peeks over the horizon of the incline, time seems to slow for eddie. he has that lengthened second for something to click in his brain, a panic response as he catches a glimpse of the car in the corner of his eye, barreling down the short distance.

“WATCH OUT!!”

you’re suddenly ripped out of your concentration, yanked from where you stand by eddie grabbing your sleeve and with all his strength pulling you into him not a moment before the car lays on its horn and speeds right over the spot you’d just been standing. the driver screeches obscenities from their window, that and the horn growing fainter with their distance.

as you collapse into eddie’s arms the force sends you both stumbling back and down, eddie shielding you by holding you tight and turning you away from the road. from the sudden shock your heart races and you start to pant quickly, whimpering tearfully while your body trembles with adrenaline, grabbing at eddie’s vest as he groans and tries to right yourselves so you’re sitting up. he begins to shush you softly, comfortingly, staying as calm as he can as he pushes hair from your face and rubs your cheeks, checking you over for any damage while you shiver and try to let your brain catch up.

“hey! hey! lookit me, babe, here—“ he tries to guide you by your cheeks, holding you steady so he can catch your eye. “you gotta look at me honey, i need to check — you okay?? holy shit…” he’s panting too, wide-eyed and concerned, trying to check your pupils, your head, for anywhere you might have been injured in the tumble, making sure you’re safe and okay.

“eddie i—! i’m so sorry — i d-didn’t see— i wasn’t loo-looking, i—!!“

“nonono, here, c’mere,” as the tears begin to slip from you both he pulls you into him firmly, squeezing you hard and hiding his face in your neck for a moment as it twists in an amalgamation of shock, panic, concern, and relief. your hands fist tight into the back of his vest as you hold him and ground yourself, still trying to catch your breaths.

“it’s okay — it’s okay, sweetheart, i promise. i got you, you’re safe… you okay?? are you hurt??” he leans away and begins looking you over again, as you sniffle and nod.

“i’m okay, i’m okay… i’m— i’m okay… are- are you..?”

“i’m okay. we’re okay…”

you both just sit there breathing on the side of the road, eddie drops his forehead against yours and nudges your noses, letting his eyes fall closed with the strength of his relief as his shoulders slump. and then, he starts to laugh. just softly, snorting a little, but his eyes are watery. the residual panic and adrenaline burning off, and you can’t help but join him as your shoulders shake with your own quiet laughter. eddie kisses your cheek and pulls you into him again.

you were both okay.

[univvrse]

we're in all the magazines (chapter 6)

chapter title: you know you like it when the music's loud

minors dni

hawks x dabi

cw: homophobia, smut

There were four members of the band 'Puncture'; each with deeply buried secrets. Dabi, Hawks, Shigaraki and Mr Compress.

Each about to find out things about eachother that will change their relationship as band mates forever.

previous can be found on my masterlist

on my ao3 if you'd prefer

3.6k words

The kiss couldn’t have lasted for longer than 7 seconds, when Dabi pulled back with a satisfied smirk.

“And that was Puncture, everybody!” At some point, the host must have wandered onto the stage, “Completely unforgettable, that’s for sure, huh?” He chuckled, “Okay, up next, we have Ben’s Boys! Come on up, guys!”

Puncture exited the stage, the audience’s screaming growing increasingly quiet as the distance lengthened between them.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?” Tomura growled as they headed back to their dressing room, “Who the fuck do you think you are? What kind of image does that give us?” his words were slightly slurred.

“Dude, lay off- the crowd was loving it. Sex sells!” Dabi was walking with one hand in his pocket and the other clenched firmly around one of Keigo’s wrists.

“Are you fucking kidding? The only people who are gonna watch us now are queers!” He jerked his head in Keigo’s direction, “This wouldn’t have happened if Jin was still here. Hey!” he snarled cruelly, “Hey! Why don’t we ask Keigo if he knows anything about that?”

“Fuck off! Fuck off, Tomura!” Keigo’s eyes narrowed, “They loved us out there and you know it, you just don’t wanna admit it wasn’t you they were cheering for.”

Tomura barked out a short laugh, “Call your boyfriend off, Dabi, he’s getting too feisty.”

Dabi ignored him, opening the door to their dressing room, “Grab your shit and go. Sako, you too, make sure he doesn’t start any fights.”

“Will do.” Sako replied cooly, “Come on, Tomura, I know some clubs around here, we’ll call a cab.”

“What?” Tomura’s face contorted with fury, “So you’re just happy to leave these- these fags,” he spat the last word, “all alone? What do you think they’re gonna get up to? Cause I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Shut the fuck up, I left my jacket on stage. I’m gonna wait for the next set to be over and tell the host to go up and get it, I just don’t wanna leave Keigo with you in case you strangle our best guitarist yet.” Dabi let go of Keigo’s wrist and sat down on one of the vanity tables, “So just go, yeah? Quit acting like you own us and fuck off.”

Keigo’s head was reeling. Dabi’s compliment bouncing around inside his skull.

“Sure, yeah, any excuse you can get, right?” He leered, “Whatever, kick us out so you can fuck. You’ll hate yourself for tonight when you’re blowing guys for money because you can’t get anymore gigs. Hey, at least you’re getting your practice in!” and with that, Tomura stormed out, Sako following close behind with a sigh and a promise to look after him.

The door slammed shut.

With the yelling having ceased, both remaining boys could clearly hear the band that had taken to stage after them. They had more of a rock, pop-punky sound, almost whiny. The music was shockingly loud in the small room, despite the distance between them and the stage. Keigo walked over to where Dabi was sat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, God, you just looked so good, and you were right fucking there.” The words were tumbling from his mouth at record speeds.

“Shut up.” Dabi stood up, bringing his hands up to Keigo’s shoulders, and shoved him back so he was forced to take Dabi’s place sitting on the dressing room’s vanity. He grabbed Keigo’s jaw, tilting his face, forcing the boy to look at him.

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but immediately forgot what he had planned when Dabi pressed his lips to Keigo’s.

The blonde let out a small sound of surprise, before wrapping his arms around Dabi’s waist to pull him closer. Dabi brought one hand to Keigo’s hip, dipping his thumb under the waist of his jeans before guiding it up under his shirt.

He skimmed his fingertips over Keigo’s stomach and ribs, resting it on one of his pecs, swiping his thumb over the nipple there, revelling in the slight whimper he pulled from the boy below him. He broke the kiss, leaning back to make a show of pulling his tank top off.

“Arms up.” It was halfway between a mumble and a command, but still Keigo obeyed, lifting his arms above his head so Dabi could relieve him of his shirt. His eyes scanned over Dabi’s body, awed by the impeccable shape he was in.

“Do you just do push-ups in your room all day or what?” Keigo blurted as Dabi resumed his position between the lighter haired boy’s legs, chuckling as he placed his hands on Keigo’s waist. He brought his head down, till their lips were millimetres from each other.

“Fuck around and find out.” Dabi’s blue eyes still held the same hunger Keigo had noticed on stage. He was desperate to find the extent of the deprivation. Dabi dipped down to meet Keigo’s increasingly familiar lips, pressing himself forward so his thigh was flush against Keigo’s groin. He’d noticed the erection pressing against Keigo’s trousers earlier, relieved to know he wasn’t the only one who was achingly hard. Keigo moaned into Dabi’s mouth, trying to grind himself against Dabi’s thigh, only to have his own thigh grabbed, pinning him in place against the table.

Keigo grabbed at Dabi’s shoulders in response, digging nails aggressively into his back. Dabi’s grip on Keigo’s thigh tightened and he brought his other hand up to the boy’s hair, gripping harshly enough to force a gasp. He used this opportunity to slide his tongue into Keigo’s mouth, enjoying the way he could feel every sound the guitarist made before he could hear it.

Dabi released his grip on Keigo’s hair, and instead let his hand trace a path down his neck, stopping to press his lightly against his windpipe. He felt Keigo’s cock twitch at this. He repositioned his hand so he could squeeze more forcefully, and so the majority of the pressure was isolated to the arteries at the side of the neck, rather than the windpipe. He was pulling strangled whimpers from the boy, again now desperately trying to create friction between his cock and Dabi, who just squeezed his neck harder and pushed him back down.

This caused Keigo to rake his nails down Dabi’s back, almost challengingly. He was already dizzy from the drugs, and the lack of blood travelling to his brain was only adding to their effect. He raked his fingers back up, Dabi tightened his grip, their tongues slid against each other harmoniously.

Keigo pulled away this time, panting to catch his breath. Dabi loosened his hand.

“So, you’re secretly a sick little freak, huh?” Dabi smirked at Keigo, who was still breathing pretty heavily, “I honestly should’ve guessed, I mean, you try so hard to be neutral and unassuming, figures that you’re covering up some depraved ass kinks- not that I’m complaining at all.”

“Do you always talk this much before sex?” Keigo pushed himself up off the desk, bringing his hands to Dabi’s chest and shoving him against the nearest wall. He plastered himself against the black-haired boy, placing his palms flat against the wall either side of Dabis head.

Dabi just raised an eyebrow, “Sex? Who said you were getting that lucky?”

One of Keigo’s hands left the wall, travelling down to palm at Dabi’s hard cock, “Your boner.” he simply stated. Dabi shrugged. Keigo swooped towards Dabi’s neck, planting a kiss on his adam’s apple, before moving his mouth slightly to the left and sucking a deep purple hickey into the skin there. After leaving a few more purple marks, Dabi’s hands once again found their way to his blonde hair, yanking at the back slightly, signifying what he wanted.

Keigo slowly moved down, peppering kisses along Dabi’s torso, tracing his fingers lightly over his abs, guided by the hand in his hair. When he was fully on his knees, he looked up, admiring Dabi from an entirely new perspective. He looked just like he did in Keigo’s silent fantasies.

“Go on then.” Dabi smiled down at Keigo, impossibly smug, “Put your money where your mouth is.”

The boy on his knees set to work unbuckling Dabi’s belt and unzipping his jeans, all the while staring up at Dabi through his lashes. His movements were painstakingly slow, God, Keigo adored being a tease.

Ben’s Boys was also a cover band. They were currently playing an All-American Rejects song called “Dirty Little Secret”.  Keigo wondered if Puncture had played loudly enough to be heard by all the other bands in their dressing rooms.

Keigo didn’t even have to pull Dabi’s jeans down, they were baggy enough to drop entirely on their own accord the second they were unzipped. Dabi kicked them across the floor, his combat boots still laced tightly on his feet.

“Oh shit, yeah- Keigo?” Dabi looked down with a shit-eating grin, “Don’t be too scared by what you see. It won’t hurt you.”

The lighter haired boy scoffed, rolling his eyes at Dabi’s self-absorption, “I’m sure I’ve seen dicks bigger than y- oh.” Keigo had pulled down Dabis's boxers to reveal not only his hard cock, but also the piercing on the underside of the tip of said hard cock. It was a surface bar, secured by a metal ball at either end.

“Yeah, I wasn’t on about size, sorry, pretty boy.” He frowned, “Though, to be fair, I wouldn’t say I’m exactly lacking in any way.”

“Oh, shut up.” In all honesty, Keigo did have to admit Dabi was certainly well-endowed. He was probably somewhere around 6.5 or so inches, with a decent girth.

Keigo spat into one of his hands, swiftly bringing it up to give Dabi’s cock a few pumps. He swiped his thumb over the tip, already wet with precum, then applied the precum to the rest of his dick. Dabi’s fingers were tangled in Keigo’s hair, pulling lightly. Keigo opened his mouth, making sure to maintain eye contact with Dabi as he engulfed the pierced tip into his mouth completely. He ran his tongue over the cold metal piercing, loving the textural contrast it provided. Dabi moaned above him.

Slowly, Keigo sunk his lips down along the shaft of his bandmates dick, sucking his cheeks in to create tight walls around it. He fought off a gag as he felt the tip poke the back of his throat. He pulled back slightly and began to bob his head up and down, raising his hands to grip onto Dabi’s hips, pressing harshly on the bare skin. He would pull all the way back every now and again to swirl his tongue around the tip, prodding at and playing with the piercing, smoothing over it with the underside of his tongue, gliding the tip of his tongue over the slit of the urethra, then going back to bobbing his head.

“Shit- hah- if I’d have known you- fuck- could do this so good,” Dabi strengthened his grip on Keigo’s hair, “I’d have fucking asked you- sooner.”

Unable to answer, Keigo simply hummed and pressed his tongue flat against Dabi’s cock, now moving his head at almost a similar speed to how he played guitar.

“Stop- ‘m gonna fucking cum if you keep going.” Dabi’s back arched away from the wall, Keigo sped up.

Dabi gave a sharp tug at Keigo’s hair, making him stop, “Can’t fuck you properly if you make me cum right now, can I?”

That was enough to convince Keigo, who promptly pulled his mouth off Dabi with a wet pop. He looked up at Dabi, his eyes red and watering, tears catching on his dark eyelashes.

“Fuuuuck, look at you.” Dabi untangled one his hands from the blonde’s hair and brought it to his jaw, tilting his face up and turning it from side to side, admiring him from all angles, “You’re a fucking mess, huh?” he swiped his thumb over Keigo’s lips, collecting the precum and spit coating them, before pressing it into his mouth and flattening it against his tongue, “Swallow, babe.”

Keigo didn’t break eye contact, obediently swallowing around Dabi’s thumb. He rocked back, leaning on his heels, “So what were you saying?” He grinned, “Something about fucking me properly?”

Dabi pulled Keigo up, flipping them around so he could be the one pinning Keigo against the wall, “Gimme a second first. I want a turn to have some fun.” he rested his forearms against the wall so he could move in to attack Keigo’s neck, leaving even darker purple hickeys in his wake. Keigo moaned softly into his ear.

“Look, as much as I'm enjoying this, I’m so hard it physically hurts.” Keigo was only half joking.

“God, you’re fucking needy.” Dabi pulled back to lean against the wall against only one arm, “Get your jeans off- I'm way too unfairly naked.”

Keigo wasted no time kicking his jeans and drawers off, letting them join the pile formed by all their other clothes.

Dabi then grabbed the lighter haired boy, manhandling him and bending him over the vanity desk, so his bare stomach was flat against the cold plastic. Keigo sucked in a sharp breath at Dabi’s spontaneity.

“Don’t have any condoms. You?” Dabi’s voice was filled with impatience. He watched in the mirror as Keigo shook his head, “Don’t have any lube either, I guess. Here,” he brought a hand up to Keigo’s lips, “spit.” Keigo hurriedly obeyed, unable to look at his reflection in the mirror a few inches from his face. He must look like such a whore, with the tearstains running down his cheeks and hickeys covering his neck, following every command from the boy behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The blue-eyed boy now had his hand up to his own mouth, spitting in it himself, before coating two fingers in the mixture of the two boys’ saliva.

“I’m gonna stretch you out first, babe, yeah?” He waited for Keigo to nod, “Don’t shut your eyes, pretty boy, I want you to watch.”

Keigo’s eyes remained tightly closed.

“C’mon, if you don’t open your eyes, I’m gonna leave and find some other bitch- someone who’ll actually do what I say.”

Reluctantly, Keigo opened his eyes, staring at Dabi’s reflection with mock spite.

“There we go.” Dabi slowly pushed a spit covered finger into the boy below him, who immediately bit hard into his lower lip, stifling his moan.

“Hey, that’s no fun, is it?” Dabi thrust his finger in and out of Keigo at a snail’s pace, “I want the whole venue to hear you. I want the audience out there to know I made you my whore.” He added in a second finger, scissoring them inside Keigo a few times, before curling them, his fingertips lightly brushing against the bundle of nerves that made the blonde cry out.

“Shit- fuck, Dabs, do it again.”

“Stop trying to hide and I will.”

“Fuck you, you don’t own me.”

“Fine then.” Dabi pulled his fingers out completely. Keigo whined at the loss of contact, huffing as he watched Dabi turn to the door.

“Jesus fucking Christ, okay. You win, whatever. Come back.” Keigo turned around only to see Dabi stood watching him with a raised brow. He rolled his eyes, “Please.”

Dabi stared back, clearly amused, “Please what?”

Keigo sighed, “Please- fuck- I want you, Dabs, I fucking need you.” he dug his nails into the palms of his hands, “Please just fuck me already.”

“All I had to hear.” He walked back over to Keigo, “Bend over, bitch”

Smirking, Keigo resumed his prior position bent over the desk, arching his back slightly so his ass was raised higher, now perfectly aligned with Dabi’s crotch. Dabi raised a hand and brought it down hard across Keigo’s ass cheek. The blonde let out a surprised yelp, glancing back up at Dabi through the vanity’s mirror, trying desperately to mask the obvious look of pleasure on his face.

“You really are a freak, huh?” Dabi’s voice was mocking, but not unkind. Keigo’s face flushed with embarrassment

He finished stretching Keigo out, before spitting once again into his hand and pumping it over his cock, making sure to coat it as well as possible, adding his precum to the mix. He lined himself up with Keigo’s entrance, pressing his tip in slowly. He moaned as he felt the shorter man clench around him. One of Dabi’s hands once again found its way into his now impossibly messy blonde hair, the other one gripping tightly at his hip, pressing bruises into the pale skin as he bottomed out.

The cool metal of Dabi’s piercing sent jolts of electricity up Keigo’s spine, causing moans and whimpers to tumble from his lips.

Dabi began to slowly thrust, pulling himself out almost entirely, leaving only his tip still in Keigo, before pushing back in.

“Fuck, Dabs, you can go harder, man. You won’t break me.” Keigo propped himself up, resting his forearms against the table, watching Dabi’s expression in the mirror.

“So desperate for me.” Dabi cooed. He dug his nails deeper into Keigo’s hip, pulling back all the way, then quickly snapping his own hips forward, burying his cock base-deep in the guitarist. He repeated this movement, addicted to the shameless moans it drew from Keigo. He watched Keigo’s back arch further as the speed of his thrusts increased, “Watch.” he near growled, yanking Keigo’s hair to force his gaze onto the mirror in front of him.

“Dabs- Dabi- fuck so good.” Keigo seemed to have forgotten his earlier qualms about volume and was now groaning loud enough that neither boy could hear the music they had heard earlier. The sound of skin slapping against skin probably wasn’t much help in this case.

Keigo looked in the mirror as instructed. He looked completely and utterly blissed out. His pupils were still blown out to such a scale that he could barely see the yellow of his irises, and there were more tears welling up in them. His lips were swollen and parted, clumsy expletives and mutterings of Dabi’s name falling from them constantly, and his neck was covered in deep purple marks.

Another hard slap to his ass had Keigo practically screaming, delirious as pain bled into unbelievable pleasure. Tears were now running down his face.

“Holy- ngh- shit you look good.” Dabi’s voice was strained, and he was panting, but God was it sexy, “Feel so fuckin’ good.” he felt the familiar warmth growing in his gut.

“Please, please,” Keigo could hardly think, let alone speak, “don’t stop- fuck- ‘m close- please.”

“So cute when you beg.” Dabi somehow managed to thrust faster, bringing a leg up to rest his foot on a nearby chair, allowing him to angle his thrusts in a way that caused Keigo to gasp and choke out a gorgeously strangled moan. Admittedly, Dabi did think about how funny it would be if he did stop then, but he decided he’d have to leave that for another time, as he himself was much too close to finishing to enact this particular form of torture on Keigo.

“Dabs, gonna cum.” Keigo looked up in the mirror, “You?”

Dabi nodded, too busy focusing on hitting the spot that had made Keigo react so intensely with every thrust to reply.

“Fuck- please- so good.” Keigo’s moans were dangerously loud.

Dabi collected enough dexterity to talk, “Look at you, fuck. Such a pretty whore for me.”

Keigo came with a sob, mumbling Dabi’s name over and over as hot fluid dirtied his stomach and the desk below him.

Dabi felt Keigo clench around him, sending him over the edge, his cum spilling from him and into the blonde.

“Shit, Dabs, I haven’t been fucked like that in forever.” Keigo was first to regain his ability to speak clearly.

Just as Dabi went to agree, they heard a knock at the dressing room door.

“Hey? Anyone in there? I’ve got Dabi’s jacket; he left it on stage.”

Both boys turned to each other, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah one second! I’ll be with you, just- one second!” Dabi scrambled to throw his clothes back on, followed closely by Keigo. The blue-eyed man decided it was acceptable enough to be shirtless in your own dressing room, so in order to waste as little time as possible, he left his shirt on the ground as he went to open the door, “Thanks, man, I owe you big time. Almost forgot about it.” Dabi grabbed his jacket from the host whose name he couldn’t remember for the life of him.

“Oh, it’s no problem, really!” The host didn’t seem to read Dabi’s ‘please leave’ look, and instead peered around him into the dressing room, “So did everyone else go, cause...” his voice trailed off when he saw Keigo, who was stood in the centre of the room, struggling to get his jeans on over his own heavy combat boots. Keigo who’s stomach and ribs were covered in his own cum.

“Hello!” The mostly naked man waved over awkwardly, “Uh, thanks for bringing his jacket we were, um, just about to ask you to get it.”

The host smiled wryly, “Yeah... Well like I said, it’s no problem, but, uh, I’ve gotta get back now so, yeah, hopefully I’ll see you guys again soon. Tell the other I thought you were great!” and with that, Dabi slammed the door shut.

The boys burst out laughing.

“Holy shit, dude, did you see his face when he saw you there?”

“Don’t even remind me. God, I’m all sticky, can we go now?”

“Sure, yeah, we’ll take the van, but first,” Dabi held up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, “Quick fag?”

“Duh.”

[thatdogmagic]

As before, if you don't know what's going on, and aren't up to speed on Tumblr nonsense, you are totally allowed to go do something else. It will be a much better use of your time.

So, yeah.

I know the logs going around. I know how they come off if taken at face value, from the author's 'I did nothing wrong here' point of view.

Disclaimer up front: what I'm about to say isn't excusing aggressive behaviour, or saying that everything I said is wonderful and/or justified. Even if I think HaliteaTiger et al are going out of their way to heap all their responsibility on to me, like they were just innocent babies who couldn't make decisions for themselves, I don't think anyone deserves to be in the blast radius of an autistic meltdown (required viewing), especially of the Fight variety.

Talking about that is how Haligren and I bonded, in fact. Even before I knew it was autism, we talked about our mutual issues with explosive and dissociative anger.

All this is to say, I am not going to lengthen this post even more by pausing to say, every time I defend myself, that I'm aware of my own bad behaviour. Which I know is going to rub some people the wrong way/serve as 'proof' I'm just as bad as they think, but honestly? Don't care. This post isn't for you. You've decided based on vibes-based posting and cherrypicked logs you don't like me, and that's your business. You're welcome to leave now. I haven't given you any method of knee-jerk replying to this anyway.

For everyone else, the tl;dr is this: it should strike people as odd that I am the only person taking any real responsibility for a situation so prone to blowing up (friends working together) that it regularly shows up in every sitcom known to mankind.

To me, it is the height of irony that my main detractor decided to post me saying the r-slur about myself as an indictment, when 'look at this r-slur' has been the thesis of everyone's posts ever since this started. And no, I'm sorry, they know that's exactly what they're doing.

I can say that with confidence, because each one of them was informed, very clearly, and very early on, that I, as an at-the-time 41-42 year old, was going through some serious struggles with a recent autism diagnosis. In the case of HaliteaTiger, she even ignored photographs I'd taken, physical evidence of what meltdowns could do to me in my younger years.

They know this is explicitly attached to a disability, and they're going on record saying they can't possibly believe that's the case. That I must be lying for my own benefit.

In short, that I'm too smart to be that (r-slur). I must simply be malicious, manipulative, abusive instead.

Which is exactly why the word is so easy to reach for in those moments of meltdown.

Doesn't make it right, of course-- not only should I not use the word, I should really be kinder to myself. But I have a hard time being angry with myself for repeating what people have been saying to me for pretty much my entire life, even if they're not saying it outright.

So. Let me be blunt: I am not taking responsibility for other people deciding that they can "handle me," in spite of a downpour of warnings, disclaimers, and full-blown discussions. It can only be my fault for so long that I am exactly who I say am.

What I can take responsibility for is moving too quickly. It was taking that feeling of 'oh this explains everything' that the diagnosis brought with it, and thinking that relief could translate into control. I wasn't in a rational space for how things went with HaliteaTiger - and I was as clear about that as I could have been - but in the end, I was the one who said 'yes' to working together. I was probably the one who had the idea to work together in the first place. And I genuinely thought I could handle it. Obviously, I couldn't, and I meant every apology I gave when that became evident.

(aside: since people will rightfully ask, I have footnoted why I agreed to work with Jackal/Trish in spite of saying I learned from this bad experience with Haligren; if I go into it here I'll veer off track again.)

When I say this is where my responsibilities begin and end, I'm not writing that off as a small thing. I know now that, that soon after diagnosis and reorienting my life, I was going through a kind of 'skill regression.' Whether I knew it or not - that I was effectively a loaded weapon that could go off at any time - it doesn't change the outcome. Besides that, I knew full well what I was capable of. I had years of experience telling me it was probably too soon. 'Wishful thinking,' and the myriad other reasons for poor impulse control, doesn't clear me of that. I'm not going to ask, never have asked anyone to forgive me for it, either.

That said: it is where my responsibilities begin and end.

Keep in mind, Haligren herself posted what was more or less, 'she did exactly what she said she'd do and I can't accept that maybe I had a hand in this by not bothering to listen to her. Again.'

And the same goes for Jackal, albeit to a far lesser extent. We've already covered the fables she's invented for this.

You know, I know I've said it before, but I feel like it's worth pointing out again that this is all this needed to be. 'I thought I could handle this and I couldn't' was all it needed to be, from everyone. There was and is no shame in admitting that. And admitting it to ourselves didn't need to be all bad, either. It certainly hasn't been for me.

ex: It's allowed me to set much clearer boundaries for myself and others; it's let me see a lot of weak points that need the most work; and it's allowed me to just exist more comfortably with others.

There are things outside of my control that can still trigger me, but I've gotten better at pulling back in time, and if not pulling back in time, then lessening severity. Which sucks, sometimes, because it often means pulling back from things I'd rather be doing, because they're too overstimulating. ex: I often have to stop playing flashy video games because the visuals can exacerbate any ambient tension I already have.

It's where 'ah yeah this why this is a disability' realizations come in. Having to literally lay in a dark room to get your nervous system to shut the fuck up. Which I didn't know, couldn't have guessed would be a requirement for getting my Everything to calm down, any more than I could know that certain types of treble played at higher volumes could make me start feeling panicky and fucked up. I didn't even know 'dark room + reading' would work for me until sometime this year.

With all that in mind, I've been trying to be a lot more mindful about surrounding myself with people who I know for sure know exactly what's going on. Who take it seriously, and understand that I'm still learning a lot as I go, making up for a lot of years to a point where I sometimes feel like I'm relearning how to walk, or tie my shoes. They understand that just the process of de-masking is difficult, either because they've done it or are in the process of doing it, themselves.

I will not hold it against them if they witness a meltdown and decide enough is enough. Which is part of this I don't think Haligren et al ever realized:

I don't want people around if I'm genuinely too much for them. Because, and I know this might come as a shock but, I don't want to hurt people. I never have and I never will. I don't get any kind of fulfillment out of the sound of a telephone, or some random visual overload, sending me into an absolute rage and that coming out at someone I care about. That's not cool or comfortable or fun, that's stupid. I don't get any joy or reward from that. There is nothing that has ever positively reinforced it, and until I knew what it was, every single method I could use to fix it just fell completely flat.

I've spent much of my life feeling completely hopeless about it. Which is something else Haligren and I talked about. Something she claimed to experience herself, and sympathized with. I say 'claimed' because it's hard to say what all was honest, and what wasn't, for reasons I think should be clear.

Still: everything that happened between us, she already knew was possible. That it was a matter of 'when' not 'if.' That it was not me giving myself permission, it was me telling her, this is a thing I struggle with constantly, it does take a certain type of person to work this closely with me on projects I feel this strongly about.

For reasons only she can say, she decided she was that certain type of person. I did not strongarm, goad, or pressure her into that role. I did not ask 'are you sure?' in some bizarrely nuanced way that inferred she had no choice.

Example: I was in what I can recognize now as that 'pre-meltdown' state when she approached me about using Clip Studio's comics formatting. For whatever reason, I snagged on having found the tool confusing in the past and lost my fucking mind about not wanting to use it. I came back and apologized later because it was undeserved, at best random and out of nowhere, and I again initiated the 'are you sure?' conversation about working together.

IDK what she thought I was saying there. Which was another problem in and of itself but we'd be here for actual pages of text if I had to go into how many times I was willfully misinterpreted.

So, yes, to say, 'I knew it could be bad but not this bad!!' isn't something anyone should buy. She knows that. And she knows I have logs of all of it.

Here's the thing tho: I don't *want* to fucking post any logs. Not least because I don't want *my* personal business out there for everyone to see, but I frankly don't want to be known as someone who posts someone else's, esp wrt mental health. Also:

I don't want to continue a slapfight that will only lose us all friends and colleagues, and may even create fractures in the actual community.

Because, let's be clear: that's the *only* endgame here. That is the best possible outcome of all of this: we annoy our peers and our community with a mountain of shit that will only ever boil down to 'we did not work well together, for a variety of reasons, and we all got messy about it.' That is all anyone will come away with after all the logs are posted, and all the shit is slung. Because there is no tell-all beyond that. There are no juicy secrets.

If you guys ('cause I know it'll be copy/pasted to you anyway despite blocks) want to die on that hill, that's your business. I *am* genuinely sorry anyone had to sit through my meltdowns; I truly don't want to have them, ever at all for any reason, and I don't want other people around me to take the heat of them. But that's the only thing I can really apologize for beyond 'I'm sorry it didn't work out' and whatever other *actual* mistakes I made.

We all made plenty. We all lost an opportunity we wanted in each other. We all lost out on telling our own stories quicker, and on telling new ones with one another. Pointing to one of the only people willing to take any responsibility for their part, and proceeding to dump *all* responsibility on their shoulders, will not fix that. Burning me in effigy won't save you from yourselves, either, because if you can't face this, you'll have all the same problems with other people later on down the line. You just will. There's no avoiding that.

As for me, as I said, I pared down who I work with quite a bit, to people who do take me seriously, and understand - really understand - what they're signing up for. Who won't look at me saying 'I don't take hints well so please just be up front with me' and disregard it as nonsense because I'm clearly too smart for that to be a thing.

It does 1000% require being around people who are willing to talk very frankly and openly about every conflict and confrontation. Which are, it should be noted, *not* people who are pathologically driven to pat your ass and say 'it's ok it's fine' when they clearly meant something different.

...

I'm not sure anything good will come of me posting this.

When I say the posts about me have been pretty much nothing but Jackal, Trish, and Haligren saying 'look at this r-slur,' I really do mean it. People gawking and engaging are joining in to do the same. Me making this post just invites even more of that, from them and from spectators.

Nothing good has come of me staying quiet, though, so it needed to be said.

Their disbelief that I could ever be 'that bad,' their unwillingness to listen to me when I talked about my limits, when I gave clear examples of where I might need additional support... I am not taking responsibility for that disbelief, no matter how many internet randos get sicced on me. Not from Haligren and definitely not from Jackal.

So, yeah, sorry/not sorry. I know someone having a visibly 'fight' response is easy to shit on, but, nah, no. I'm not going to apologize for saying I was *owed* an apology from Haligren, either, because I was, and she knows exactly why. She's just not willing to talk about the context of that moment, because that'll take all the wind out of the 'she was abusive and lashed out for no reason!!' sails.

It'll mean taking responsibility for her part in ruining the opportunity I represented for her and her work. Which is probably an uncomfortable thought to sit with, and clearly has been for years, considering how eager she was to jump in on behalf of someone who knew ahead of time that she held a grudge.

I'm sure that'll work out well for her. I wish them well in their future collaboration. I'm sure none of the problems they had with me will ever surface ever again with other people and everything will be fine.

ps: Going on public record to say someone who told you, more than once, 'I have no interest in you romantically' indicated they actually had a mutual crush on you is rich. 'The thought crossed my mind' =/= 'I have a crush on you too,' so we're clear. If Haligren weren't playing a game of hate-telephone with someone prone to exaggerate, she'd have known that this assumption is part of the problem I had with her.

That she actually managed to spell out the problem I did have with her in a public post without realizing that was my issue with the whole thing. Same w/ the constant 'I'm not into women' reminders, like I'm incapable of remembering/might fall in love with her at a moment's notice because I happen to be attracted to women and femmes.

All I know is it felt like sometimes I was being treated as a surrogate boyfriend, and that's pretty much what she outright admitted, so-- thanks for clarifying that for me, I guess. ;p

pps: The only reason I even considered taking a risk on working on something more intense w/ people again, re: starting up with Jackal and Trish at all, was because I got laid off from my job, had severance, and unemployment. I had a window of time I could work hard on big projects and still be pulling in income. It was still a bad decision and one I knew could go either way, but chose to take the risk anyway. I knew what I was doing, which is, yes, where I explicitly fucked up, and my way of owning that isn't something I can put on display. I can only prove it with how I act and with whom, and that's what I intend to do.

ppps: I'd say more about whatever it is Trish is going on about in all of this but she and I barely spoke personally which makes her going scorched earth honestly pretty laughable and not really worth addressing.

[ogdoadfates]

#10 Person C helping Person A & B with the grieving process of a loved one. Vaxleth. Sometimes fire means love au. The long since awaited second short story for @ravendruid that took me way too long omg I am so sorry.

The thing about grief is that it never truly leaves you, like the phasmatic pain that keeps reminding you of the limb you lost ages ago. Even when used to the loss it still hurts.

There is different ways it hurts, a physical pang when you find yourself in a situation where you need it most and emotionally like when you find a thing you once loved to do but due to the loss you no longer can.

And sometimes it’s an anniversary, a date in time that causes all the anguish to rear it’s ugly head and hurt those around them.

It was today all those years ago when Vex and Vax’s mom died in a fire that consumed their old family home after a faulty wire finally sparked something it shouldn’t have. 

The twins have been checking every nook and crany of their small apartment, making sure everything is working correctly and that their are zero chances of anything catching fire. They even refuse to cook for the most part but Keyleth guesses thats where she comes in. 

When the twins overwork and worry themselves she’s the one to call Percy in to do an

impromptu inspection of everything and she’s the one to make sure the two get proper meals in. Speaking of which the pizza arrived and Percy has finished checking every possible fire hazard possible in the apartment, giving Vex a hug and a nod  to both Keyleth and Vax as he heads out back to work, taking a slice of the pizza due to Keyleth’s insistence. 

The twins sat on their old couch, shoulder to shoulder, leaning on each other as Trinket lays at their feet. Kayleth sat next to Vax, staring ahead at the pizza slowly getting cold on the twins small coffee table. This part is always draining, silence or gut wretching cries always fill the air when the buzz of movement finally ends and as Vax grabs her hand, giving it a tight squeeze, she could tell today was going to be a day of silence. And in truth words don’t have to be spoken, they’ve by this point told her in the comfort of silence and certainty all thats happened to them, their mother and her passing and in turn Keyleth told them pieces of her past horrors. Not a lot granted, but they didn’t need to have more troublesome thoughts. Not to mention Keyleth would rather suffer in silence, she shouldn’t burden them.

Time passes both in a blink and in agonising length, whenever one of them moved it sped up and whenever movement ceased it lengthened. But it only took a few hours before Trinket decided he needed out and like always Keyleth takes full advantage of it, dragging both twins out of their home and having them join her on a walk throughout the city. All of them including Trinket are silent for the begining half of the walk but as they make more and more distance the more and more life returns to their steps. She can hear Vex snicker as Vax slightly trips due to being distracted by something, she can hear the movement of shoes skidding across the pavement from the soft shove Vax throws Vex’s way. 

Bit by bit, piece by piece, the space around them begins to light up with conversation and laughter is soon to follow along with a few delighted barks from Trinket. Keyleth doesn’t dare hide her smile as the twins tension finally leaves them, the two playfully teasing each other and sometimes Keyleth herself as they finally head back, all of them silhouette in the setting suns golden glow.

[bayousexual]

Never did this before but your writing is amazing!

Can I request Junmei with "regrets"?

My brain is a constant on repeat of “Jun Wu, when I catch you, Jun Wu when I catch you!” Also, I’m sorry that this is very short, I know in my heart that if I kept going it would actually become waaaayyyyy longer, because I actually have a lot to say from Mei Nianqing's perspective. I love them feels. And i may actually lengthen it in the future.

—--

Sometimes Mei Nianqing feels like he is made of no more than paper, stripped bare to ragged edges and remade with unsteady ink-stained hands. 

It’s his own fault, constantly doing things he’s not supposed to do, drawing himself closer and closer to the edges of his own guilt. Jun Wu sits below the mountain, and he should be left there. He should be left alone. 

But Mei Nianqing has done enough leaving for one lifetime. It solved no issues, and changed no minds. Jun Wu’s heart remained black whether Mei Nianqing was distant from it or not, and some part of him longs for a future—far away and aching—where that could be different.

So, he stays.

With a heart full of regrets, and a mind on the barest edge of breaking, this time he does not leave. 

-----------

Leave me One Word & One Pairing, and I'll make words happen! (or try to)

[bubble-popping]

day 28? four whole weeks! more of the au from the past two days :)

After what seemed like a hundred ventilations and a thousand chest compressions, Dream finally felt their body twitch. He pulled away immediately, watching as they seized and coughed before abruptly sitting up to expel the water in their lungs in sharp bursts. All the tension fell from Dream's shoulders in an instant. "Oh, thank God! Are you alright?" Dream asked, though he wasn't really expecting an answer. He waited until their fit of rough coughs and stuttering gasps passed to place a hand on their shoulder. He promptly regretted it.

They flinched away, hissing as they turned to glare at him. Yet, inexplicably, the look dropped as they seemed to stare in utter bewilderment.

"S-sorry!" Dream raised his hands in placation. "I didn't mean to scare you." They didn't respond. They simply stared, vivid green eyes wide and unblinking.

Actually, when Dream really focused, their eyes were identical to eyes of ender. He should know, he'd held, thrown, and followed the spheres hundreds of times.

"Woah..." he breathed, now extremely intrigued. "Who, or what, are you?"

Though visibly reluctant, they opened their mouth as if to speak, only for another set of coughing to start.

"Oh! Right, sorry. Um, do you have any other-" Before Dream could finish his sentence, in the middle of trying to see if they had any other injuries, he found they were, in fact, a he. "OH, wow, uh, here!" He spotted his cloak just a few feet away and snatched it up to wrap around the creature's form, effectively hiding his entire form in the dark green fabric. "There we go. I know it's not much, but it's something." Hesitantly, the being tore his eyes from Dream's face to look down at the article of clothing. Dream saw a flash of something in his gaze, as if he somehow recognized it. He didn't usually wear the cloak, especially not on manhunts where it'd just be in the way, so he wasn't sure how that was possible. But, seeing that it managed to calm the creature, judging from the way his shoulders lost some of their tension, he was glad he brought it along on this trip.

Dream suddenly jolted. Shit! He was supposed to be heading home!

"Well, since you seem okay now, I'm gonna go. My friends are probably worried about me," he explained, despite knowing the creature likely had no idea what he was saying, and gathered his stuff from the bank of the river.

Without a second thought, he once again started walking towards Home.

He heard shuffling behind him, assumed it was the strange creature leaving as well, until the unmistakable sound of an enderman reached his ears.

Dream froze then twisted back around to find the maybe-enderman standing, clutching the cloak around his shoulders and staring down at him.

"Woah, wait, is that what you are? An enderman? Can you say something else?" Now very intrigued because no enderman he'd ever seen before looked even remotely similar to the one in front of him, Dream walked back to him.

For whatever reason, he also seemed surprised by his own sounds when he vwooped.

"Wait, this is so cool then! Oh, I gotta show you to my friends. They'll totally freak out!" Dream giggled mischievously to himself. "My name is Dream, by the way, I just remembered I never said that." He held out a hand, somehow again forgetting there was no way an enderman understood what a handshake was. The enderman stared at him--clearly not having a problem with eye contact like normal endermen--as if he was the weird one.

Yet, he shook his hand. But when Dream glanced down, something else far more important overrode his brain.

"OH MY GOD, you have toe beans like a cat! That's so cute!!" Unable to help himself, the runner took the larger hand into his two and started pressing at the smooth, lime green pads, causing his claws to repeatedly lengthen and retract.

Unfortunately, his fun was cut short by the buzzing of his communicator. "Okay, okay, already!" He directed his anger at the device before looking back to the albino enderman. "Um, do you think you could come with me so my friends can see you? They won't hurt you, I promise, I just wanna see the looks on their faces. They're gonna be so confused. So, what do ya say?"

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Eight (Part 2)

Later on in the evening, when the shadows have lengthened and the firepit is ablaze with crackling logs, someone approaches me through the crowd. Tall and handsome with black hair and eyes such a shocking, icy blue, like a husky. It’s Will O’Connor, Shane’s best friend from school. I fancied this boy relentlessly for three whole years. 

“Evie Kilbride?” He says to me, as though he’s not completely sure, and I don’t blame him. I’m sure to him I was always Kelly’s weird, lanky friend with a mouth full of braces. I was also too shy to ever actually speak to him, so I’m surprised he ever learned my name at all. 

“Yeah.” I say.

“Ah, sorry, I wasn’t sure it was you. You look different to how you did at school.”

“In a good or bad way?” I say without thinking, and he smiles, dimples on his cheeks that I used to have intrusive thoughts about pressing my finger into. 

“I dunno.” He says. “How are you getting on? You’re at college, are you?”

I tell him about NCAD, and my internship, murals and illustration while he nods along with genuine interest. “That makes sense,” He says. “I remember how you were good at art.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah you were always drawing up in the stands during our football games.” 

“Oh God.” I say, “That’s so embarrassing, I can’t believe you noticed me doing that.”

He laughs. “Ah, well, Kelly told us what you were up to. She said you hated watching us playing so you’d bring something to draw with instead.”

I want to protest and say I didn’t hate it. In fact, I always liked when Will was on the pitch. He was something majestic to behold, and sometimes if we were lucky he’d take his jersey off and whip it around over his head in celebration of scoring a point, but I can’t lie and say that I ever wanted to actually watch the games instead of the boys. I’m more embarrassed that Kelly talked about me to him than by the fact that he knew that football bored me. 

He goes on to tell me that he doesn’t really play sports anymore, he just got a job at the local boys school. He’ll be a geography teacher. It seems a startlingly sensible choice for the same boy who threw a science lab skeleton dressed in his uniform off the roof of the P.E hall, but I suppose none of us stay sixteen and reckless forever. 

“How’s Kelly getting on with the nursing degree?” He wants to know. “Is she doing placement this year or what?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Is she coming tonight, or?”

“I don’t know either. I suppose she’s probably working, maybe she’ll be by a bit later.” I pause. “Like, she and I aren’t close anymore.”

Will seems surprised. “Oh really? But ye were always together, joined at the hip, like. You’d never see one without the other.”

“Yeah, I know, but it didn’t work out in the end.” I chew my lip, resisting the urge to say something in defence of myself so that he knows that she’s the one who ruined it, not me when actually it doesn’t matter at all anymore. None of those things that seemed monumental as teenagers seem to matter one iota. Will plunges his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels in the short silence that follows. I suspect I have made it awkward for him somehow, and begin preparing my escape before he says: “You know, she actually told me once that you fancied me.”

I explode with panic as though a nuclear disaster alarm has gone off. “What?” 

“Yeah, like…” He laughs self-consciously. “I think it was when I was in fifth year or something. She said that you’d had your eye on me for ages and you were too shy to say anything.”

“Oh Jesus, I’m sorry she said that. That’s really awkward, I’m sure you were really freaked out by it.”

“No, I thought it was cute, to be honest.” 

Why he is bringing this up? It’s not often now that I truly wish to be gobbled up by the earth, but this has made me feel so humiliated that my arms curl around myself as though they can protect me from my own horrible feelings. “Ha. Well, you know, I was really young and silly, I hope I didn’t embarrass you by it or like, that nobody else found out and took the piss out of you for it.” 

He was going out with this girl from the same athletics club as me for ages, and she used to always tell the same story to everyone about how she’d gone shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch and they’d begged her to work there because she was so good looking. If she’d heard about my feelings she would have ripped me to shreds. 

“No, nobody found out.” He says. “I actually do think that you’re very cute. Still, I mean.” The corners of his mouth curve up into a shy smile, and the moment is so alien to me that it takes me several moments to realise that he’s not making fun of me. Will O’Connor is flirting with me. “Oh, thank you.” I manage. 

“You’re not going out with anyone at the moment, are you?”

His phrasing bothers me a bit, as if he’s implying I couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend or something, but still I laugh out loud at the absurdity of the whole situation. After all this time. He used to be everything I wanted but now, the things about him that used to make my stomach flip and my legs weak leave me feeling nothing at all. He would have been embarrassed to bump shoulders with me even accidentally back then, and now look at him. I never thought I’d see him vulnerable. “I am.” I say. “I have a boyfriend, sorry.” I glance over his shoulder to Jude, who’s conversing with Shane about something by the firepit. Will follows my eyes and glances over his shoulder. “Oh, him?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs. “Lucky guy, I suppose.” He gently clinks his bottle against my prosecco glass and nods. “Well, have a good night, Evie. Was nice to run into you again.”

I join Jude and Shane by the fire straight after, and practically dive into my boyfriend, holding on to him and kissing his cheek five times in quick succession while he chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “Are you alright?”

“Yes” I say. “I’m just obsessed with you, I love you so much.” 

“Little weirdo.” He grabs me by my cheeks and kisses the top of my head. 

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