#ahhhhh how I missed writing fic

[verdantchan]

Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’  Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together. 

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty  and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed. 

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two. 

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest. 

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

 ‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies. 

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

 You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck. 

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell. 

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’  his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes. 

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you. 

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him? 

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’ 

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing. 

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below. 

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly,  messy waves falling in his face. 

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything. 

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow. 

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed. 

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away 

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole,  your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more 

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting. 

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size 

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you. 

 ‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’ 

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure. 

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily. 

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick.. 

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high  

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue. 

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy. 

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it. 

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

[cheriewoo]

Gonna Make You Rock Hard | Jeong Yunho ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 30: Mask Kink (Connected with Rum To My Whiskey (iykyk!😉))

↬ [ Synopsis ] : Under dim lights and the cover of a masquerade party, you’re alone with Yunho, the man you’ve been craving all night, with only one rule: the mask stays on. What starts as a playful bet with Wooyoung soon turns into a sultry, forbidden encounter behind closed doors, where every whispered word and heated touch makes the stakes feel deliciously higher.

���Word count : 1.8k ☆Genre : Smut, no plot just drunk and fun vibes, Non-idol Au. ☆Pairing : Stranger in the party! Yunho x F.Reader

☆ ☆ ☆WARNINGS : mdni!, reader’s craving for Yunho builds all evening, playful eye flirting, alcohol-fueled tension, mask kink, mild voyeurism, size kink (it’s Yunho, after all), dom/sub undertones, messy and intense makeout sess, fingering (fem receiving), biting kink, praise (pet names like babygirl, baby, cutie), unprotected sex (remember to wrap it, buddies), overstimulation, and filthy talk.

A/N NOTE : With this fic ma chéries, we conclude Kinktober 2024🏆. Thank you for sticking with me till the end. I appreciate and love each and every one of you, and in whichever way you supported this rookie writer, THANK YOU SOO FUCKING MUCH! 💖😘🤗

I love ATEEZ (Atiny for life 💖🏴‍☠️), and writing these fics about them made me appreciate the art they create even more🤩. I also explored new genres and learned that I can write various genres and scenarios (they all did not turn out perfect, but some did and to me what really matters is that I actually gave it a try).

I will be on a short break and then will come back with more awesome stuff for y’all. Till then, enjoy these 30 fics (my first writing work…ahhhhh…this feels surreal). Hope u miss me🥺...cuz I sure as hell will😤. Thank u again for giving my work a chance! Adios! 👋👋

P.S.: My DMs and requests are open now..so feel free to send me any particular requests you guys have or any msgs you wanna send me. I will be gone for now but will be responding to comments & dms. Adios mah loves...Byeeeee.

Before stepping into that dimly lit room with Yunho, you remembered exactly how you had ended up there.

It had started with Wooyoung and his unpredictable games, pushing you to see just how far you would go to prove a point.

“If you’re as bold as you say, then show it,” he had dared, a smirk dancing on his lips as he nudged his chin toward Yunho, the man you had been eyeing all night at the masquerade-themed party at Club Havana. “Hook up with him and prove me right. But here’s the catch,” he added, his grin widened mischievously. “The mask stays on the entire time.”

The cocktails had been flowing freely, and Yunho had looked like an absolute snack, leaving you more than a little tipsy and far too eager to rise to the challenge. The thrill of proving Wooyoung wrong and maybe even showing him just how unpredictable you could be had landed you here, flirting with Yunho before you could even give it a second thought.

The attraction had been instant, his charming smile and intense gaze igniting a spark in you that only grew stronger with each passing moment.

So here you were, leading Yunho through the crowd and away from the party's noise. A mix of drunk excitement from Havana’s finest shots and the thrill of winning the bet coursed through your veins.

The mask you had worn only added to the excitement as you both made your way into the room.

The deep red walls of the room had welcomed you under the dim lights, shadows casting an intimate glow that served as an invitation for the moments about to unfold. As you closed the door, the sounds from the club outside became muffled, leaving you and Yunho in silence. The scent of leather and faint traces of cologne filled your senses, the air in the room growing thicker with every passing second.

You faced him, your masked gaze teasing. His eyes searched yours, curiosity slowly turning into hunger. As you took a step closer, your fingers slid up his chest, moving slowly as you felt the warmth of his skin through his shirt. You could tell it was driving him crazy, not seeing all of you, your eyes just peeking through the mask. He caught your hand, his grip warm and firm, his fingers tracing slow circles against your wrist.

“Are you always this mysterious ?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, his eyes locked on yours with a delicious mixture of intrigue and excitement.

You gave a sly smile, tilting your head just enough for the light to catch your lips. “Only for the right kind of company,” you replied, your voice filled with playful flirtation.

A slow grin spread across his face as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. His hand found your waist, his fingers firm as he pulled you against him. His gaze flickered to your lips, torn between playing the game or surrendering to it. His chest rose and fell, his breath quickening as his eyes tried to memorize every inch of what the mask hid.

You reached up, your fingertips brushing his jaw, soft and deliberate. Leaning in, your lips hovered near his ear. “Want to see what’s behind the mask?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin.

His chuckle was low and rich, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your collarbone. “Maybe not,” he teased, his lips brushing your cheek. “I think I like the mystery. It keeps things… thrilling.”

You smirked, leaning into his touch, your hands gliding to his shoulders. The mask and the tequila shots you had taken fueled your boldness as you pressed closer, your lips brushing his in a kiss that sparked between tender and electric. He deepened it, his hand trailing to the small of your back, pulling you tighter as if he was as captivated by the game as you were.

As seconds passed, his kisses grew hungrier, his hands exploring your curves with desperate passion. When his fingers grazed the edge of your mask, you caught his wrist, stopping him with a playful, breathless smile.

“Not yet,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding.

His laugh was low and rough, filled with something darker. “Alright,” he murmured, pulling you closer, his hands refusing to leave your body. His fingers pressed into your hips, giving a little squeeze on your ass, which excited you even more. He had surrendered to the mystery, letting the unknown drive him wild as he lost himself in every inch of you he could reach. Everything but what was hidden behind the mask.

The mask had become part of the game, a sensual mystery like a barrier between you that fed his desire and made each touch more desperate.

His hands, once hesitant, now roamed with bold intent, tracing your curves with a hunger that matched the fire in his kiss. His lips crashed into yours, deep and demanding, pushing you back until the cool surface of the wall pressed against you, a faint contrast to the heat building between your bodies. As he surrendered to the game, his restraint slowly slipped away, leaving only the raw, electric energy that burned hotter with every touch, every breath.

His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing lightly before pressing firmly, the sensation making your breath hitch. His touch grew bolder as his fingers found your core, your arousal evident.

Slowly, he slid one thick finger into you, his pace teasing at first, each movement deliberate, as if testing how far he could push you. But as your breaths quickened, he picked up speed, his fingers curling and thrusting in a rhythm that had you gripping his shoulders for support.

The pleasure built quickly, the pressure overwhelming, and when you came undone around him, your moans muffled against his neck, he didn’t stop. Instead, he added another finger, the stretch making your body arch into him. His lips grazed your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin as he drove you toward another release.

Your legs trembled, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you gasped for air, the intensity leaving you weak and breathless. But Yunho wasn’t done. His hands and lips kept you tethered to him, his movements relentless as he worked to break down every barrier between you.

The mask remained, teasing him with what he couldn’t see, but he didn’t care, if he couldn’t uncover your secret, he would take everything else, leaving you trembling and completely at his mercy.

Pressed against the cold wall, the chill against your skin only made the heat between you burn hotter. You felt him move closer, his body pressing into yours. His hips ground against you with deliberate intent, letting you feel every bit of his desire. The friction sent sparks through you, each movement making your breath hitch and your body ache for more.

His hands slid down your thighs, lifting one leg effortlessly, holding you as if he had done this a hundred times. His touch was steady was strong but careful as he tugged your panties away with practiced ease, his focus completely on you.

Your breath caught when he revealed himself, and for a moment, all you could do was stare. A mix of awe and arousal overwhelmed you, your thoughts spinning with the idea of him inside you. His hand moved back to your leg, grounding you, while his hips pressed forward, his hard length teasing against your skin.

The way he moved, slow and purposeful, stoked a fire deep inside, and soft moans escaped your lips, filling the room. Your knees trembled, barely able to hold you, but his strong hands kept you steady as he lifted you into his arms.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, your body instinctively clinging to his strength. His eyes met yours, dark and full of restrained hunger, his expression both commanding and tender. The mask on your face gave you a boldness you had never felt, adding a thrill to every moment. As he positioned himself, his length pressed teasingly against you, and your body arched toward him, desperate to close the unbearable gap.

When he finally pushed inside, the feeling was overwhelming, a perfect mix of fullness and heat that left you gasping. He paused just long enough for you to adjust before he started moving, slow and steady at first, every thrust sending shivers through you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as the rhythm built, each movement deeper, faster, more urgent. The intensity grew with every second, his pace losing control, his need for you taking over.

The mask stayed on, a reminder of the thrill of the moment, giving you the confidence to completely let go. Your moans grew louder, your body trembling under the pressure of his relentless pace. Stars danced before your eyes as your vision clouded, the intensity of it all consuming you. His lips brushed against your neck, his breath hot and heavy as he muttered low, broken words that sent you even closer to the edge. Every thrust felt like a claim, every move a promise, as if he knew exactly what you needed and gave it without hesitation.

It felt like you had known each other forever, your bodies fitting together perfectly, moving as one. The tension built higher and higher until finally, with one last thrust, you broke apart, the release crashing over you in waves. Your body trembled in his arms as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every nerve alive and buzzing.

Moments later, his movements grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he buried himself deeper into you, chasing his own release. With a low groan, he came undone, his grip tightening on your waist as he spilled into you, his body shuddering against yours. You held him close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” Your words seemed to pull him further into the moment, his tension melting into complete surrender.

Even when it was over, he didn’t let go. His hands stayed on you, holding you close as you caught your breath, your body still humming with the aftershocks. His dark eyes lingered on your face, the mask a silent reminder of the game you had played and won. No words were spoken, but the moment hung between you, heavy with the memory of something unforgettable.

As you both recovered, your breaths slowly steadied, though the air around you remained charged. His arms stayed wrapped around you, reluctant to let you go. With a soft smile, you gently slipped out of his embrace, his hands lingering on your waist as if trying to hold on to the moment.

“Will I see you again ?” he asked, his voice low, almost pleading.

Adjusting your mask, you took a step back, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe… if you’re lucky,” you purred, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Your lips curved into a smirk into a half promise, half challenge as you walked towards the door. Just before disappearing into the crowd, you paused, looking over your shoulder, your eyes locking with his one last time. “Try not to miss me too much,” you added with a wink, your tone equal parts flirtation and mischief.

The club swallowed you, leaving him standing there, still burning from your touch, his eyes fixed on the spot where you had vanished. The mystery of your face still lingered behind that mask.

Even in the shadows, you could feel his gaze following you, and you knew that tonight, you had won the game and you were unforgettable.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hello lovie🫶🏻 as of the past mmm three days I’ve been coming back to your account and reading your tan fics, they’re just SO good!! I couldn’t help but maybe put in a request?? I’m not quite sure if you’ve done one of these before, but would it be too much trouble to do a sort of hurt/comfort type fic, where tan comes back from a mission absolutely tattered and beaten and reader instantly helps mend his wounds?? Idk what it is but I’m an absolute WHORE for these kind of fics. omg and reader uses rubbing alcohol on his cuts and stuff and he starts wincing and she goes “sorry, it’ll hurt” and he retorts with “really?? hadn’t noticed” or something like that HSJSKSN and throughout this WHOLEEE thing he’s just staring at her so lovingly and eventually they both lean in to kiss SJJWW IM SORRY BUT HES JUST SO AHHHHH😭🫶🏻🫶🏻lysm girlie, your writing makes me literally kick my feet, giggle and twirl my hair🫶🏻🫶🏻

hii omg omg thank you cutie!!!🤍 done a fair few of these but I love the wound cleaning trope ESPECIALLY with tan! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

CUTS AND SCRAPES.

tangerine x reader (gn) — fluff

word count. 790

!! blood mentions

No matter how late it would be when Tangerine returns home, you'd still wake to the sound of the front door softly closing - the sluggish footsteps of your lover creeping inside. And without fail, you would find yourself stepping down those stairs to greet him with a sweet, welcoming smile.

Though tonight —well, extremely early morning— when you heard him come through the front door, instead of hearing his usual exasperated sighs, you heard groans - like he was in pain. And without missing a beat, you followed that noise, feet cascading down the steps to check he was okay.

You find him in the kitchen, leaning over the island - dampening a cloth in the sink. 

"What happened to you?" you ask, voice quiet as you look over his face - taking note of the cuts, bruises and the crusted, dried-bloody state of a nose. "You okay?" 

"In fuckin' agony," he mumbles, wincing when he places the cloth to his forehead. 

You walk around to meet him behind the island and reach into the cupboard under the sink, picking up one of the many med-kits around the house. Collecting a bag of frozen peas, you nod Tangerine over to the kitchen table, gesturing for him to sit in front while you lay the kit and bag on the surface.

He follows suit - taking a seat and scooching the chair closer to you, placing the bag of peas over his knuckles.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, trying to ease him. You look up at him, turning your eyes away from the contents in the first aid kit - trying to gauge his response. "You don't have to... but it might help though."

He shakes his head faintly, sniffling in his usual mannish way. "No, I'm good, love," he dismisses.

You only nod, accepting that he'll come to you when he's ready. You slip on a pair of medical gloves and tear open an antiseptic wipe, hesitantly reaching for the cut on his forehead. "You ready?" you ask, pushing back a messy, unkempt curl with your free hand.

"Not particularly."

His apparent unease about the wound cleaning was almost endearing - it was oddly humanising to see the vulnerability in his usual cold assassin shell. Or the bravado he often puts on around others.

"I'll be gentle," you say, voice almost distracted as you carefully run the point of the cloth around the cut - cleaning it. 

His face grimaces, his features pulling together uncomfortably. 

"Sorry, this bit hurts," you try to comfort him, eyes glued on his forehead. 

He hums shortly, the noise like an unamused 'humph.' "Ya'think? Hadn't noticed— fuck."

"You moved, I'm sorry. Keep still." 

He exhales harshly, attempting to pull himself together. He prods the bag of peas with his other hand, trying to use it as a distraction as you finish up with his cut. 

"Nearly done," you say, laying a plaster flat over his wound - soothing the sticky edges over his skin. You press a kiss into your finger and stamp it onto the covered dressing. "There we go."

Without thinking otherwise, you move on and attend to the other mild injuries - his knuckles up next. You remove the peas, placing them on the table while you slip your hand under his beaten one, holding his palm in your hand. 

"Looks like you got a few licks in," you joke, nodding to his bruised, cut-up fist. 

"Just a few," he jests, mindlessly grazing his fingers over the back of your hand - caressing you. 

You laugh faintly, the sound amused. You run the damp cloth over his knuckles, cleaning up the residual flecks of red he tried to clean earlier.

Unbeknownst to you —your attention solely on his hand— he's looking at you, his expression like that of admiration. Half-lidded eyes scan you attentively, watching the way you care for him. 

"Thank you," he says, words gentle. 

You hum, peering up from his hand to look at him. 

"I mean it," he emphasises, holding onto your gaze when you try to glance back down. 

You squeeze his hand gently and press a kiss to his knuckles. Lips against his skin as you whisper. "I know."

And just as you're about to release his hand, his other moves to cup the side of your face - his grip light and tender as he pulls you in for a kiss. He lingers longer than necessary —longer than usual— as if to soak in the feeling of being back home and safe. 

You pull away first, resting your forehead against his brow bone. "I missed you."

He thumbs over your cheek, his hold still faint on your face. "Missed you."

[crumb]

There's a poll in the Passenger community about what cigarettes you think Benson smokes and I just gotta word vomit real quick.

So, flat out, I think it's up to interpretation. Why? Because (I'm 99% sure) the pack used in The Passenger is a pack of greeked Honeyrose herbal cigarettes used for filming.

It's a bit hard to tell, but to me, these definitely look like Honeyrose herbals with some nicely placed stickers to make it look more like real world cigarette packaging. One, because the actual cigarettes shown are not lights and yet the packaging has many of the signs that they should be lights. Lights typically have white filters and have packaging that are more white/white framing than non-lights. Honeyrose herbals sells all their screen ready cigarette packs in almost all white packs unlike real tobacco cigarettes.

The packaging, or what we can see of it on the body, funnily enough, looks like Newport Golds, though again, these are lights and would not have the yellow filter. They have white filters. The logos on the top and the front-top of the lid also do not match (the front flap logo does maybe look like the Honeyrose crown logo though.) But also, there are many reasons to not feature a real world brand of cigarette in a film so I don't think we're going to find an exact match. But the idea that Benson drives a Chrysler Newport AND smokes Newports is honestly so funny I kinda love that. But I think even he would be like... wtf? lol (Though I kinda wanna write that into one of my fics now. Randy finding a pack of Newports in his car and is like "...Really? You drive a Newport and you smoke Newports?" and Benson tells him to shut up and that they were just on sale 😭)

Another thing I noticed, the packaging between the first pack he has and then gives to his Ma and the pack he gets from the gas station (which we never really see except for the tiny glimpse of it tucked into his door) makes it almost look like they're two different brands/types. Maybe Benson/Kyle stuck the pack in upside down, I don't know. But the second pack seems to be missing the sticker on top that the first pack had. So? Honestly who the fuck knows, this really comes down to the prop/art department and if they made multiple packs with slightly different packaging or if Kyle stuck the pack in weird into the door OR the sticker just fell off, I don't know! BUT the second pack reminds me of Marlboro Blend 27s. It's got that brownish gold coloring on the front with a white border. And again, usually white borders are a sign that the cigarettes are lights, or maybe mediums (though Marlboro mediums are red instead of a brown-gold and I think that would be easy to tell if it was a bright red), but Marlboro 27s have these packaging features but aren't lights and they have yellow filters.

So again, who the fuck knows. Maybe we can headcanon that Benson usually goes for some cheap brand but after giving his last pack to his Ma, and with the day he was having and probably knew how it would end, maybe he splurged for a nicer, more expensive brand at the gas station. (Although, Marlboros would not fit into that category unless he usually smokes an even cheaper brand like Senecas or something lmao) or Kyle shoved the pack into the door upside down (idk why he would though, the lid would most likely open upon pulling it out and that would be a disaster) or the top sticker fell off so it just looks like a different brand AHHHHH IDK. It's up to you! lol these are just my thoughts.

[crowandthefics]

Ethan and the gets summoned

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Nico tossed the funfettie cake into the hole he’d made to summon the dead. He said the incantation and a very confused ghost appeared.

“What when how where who DREW WHERES MY SISTER,” the ghost said in a confused panic, spinning around and screaming.

“Ethan nakamura,” nico spoke calmly.

“It’s Tanaka-nakamura, everyone gets it wrong!” Ethan stopped spinning for a second and screamed, “AHHHHH I can’t see!”

Nico was dumbfounded. This was the great lieutenant that alabaster spoke so highly of?

“…yeah, you’re missing your eyes.”

“Thank you I couldn’t see, why the fuck am I here also where is here also who are you?” Ethan asked in rapid succession.

“I summoned you to talk about someone. Here is a forest. And I am Nico di Angelo, son of hades.”

“Who are you here to talk about?” Ethan asked.

“Alabaster Torrington, he’s a friend of mine,” Nico responded.

“Fucking lies, alabaster hates everyone,” Ethan says.

“Tell me what you know about him,” Nico says.

“No.”

“There’s funfettie cake if you talk.”

Ethan sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you got,” Nico responded.

“Well, he was a general in the Titian army. He hates everything and everyone last I checked. Absolutely fucking ruthless. When I met him I thought I was Ruthless, but he was on a whole other level. I’ve watched him feed living half bloods to monsters and kill people without a second thought. Uhm- he tends to overwork himself. He’ll use so much magic at once and collapse from exhaustion. Fucking mamas boy he is, Hecate could tell him to go to Tartarus and he would. All around pretty lovely,” Ethan rambled.

Nico took a moment to make sense of all the information. “Is that everything?”

“If you wanted to know everything about alabaster we’d be here for hours,” Ethan responded. “Can I have the cake now?”

Nico sighed and nodded before remembering Ethan couldn’t see, “yes, to your left.”

Ethan located the cake and ate it.

Nico couldn’t help but wonder, this goofy ghost who didn’t appear to know what he was doing was the ruthless Ethan nakamura? Nico had seen him during battles and heard much from alabaster, but meeting him, he wasn’t the great warrior he’d expected. He was just another half blood.

Nico watched the ghost fade away back to the fields of asphodel. After all he had heard and seen about the boy, he silently wondered how much this boy deserved asphodel.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Silly little fic!

I don’t ship Nico and alabaster romantically, but those two are platonic soulmates definitely

Ethan and alabaster are totally ex boyfriends, but like still besties

Can’t write an Ethan fic without dribbling Tanaka/nakamura siblings in

[mrghostrat]

i know i just posted a long ass rec list but i remembered some more fics that are crucial for u to read

still not my last rec post. but here's ur new homework until i wake my kindle back up and sort through my reread list.

We're Both Of Us Above by obstinatrix

E • 3k • angel/demon (pwp) "I saw you once," Crowley says, in a tone which might be interpreted, by anyone other than Aziraphale, as casual, "with a Fusilier." my favourite genre of aziraphale. the best characterisation. incredible dialogue, flirty snarky bitchy "how could you sleep with humans but not with me" resulting in amazing "youre the only one i've ever loved" sex.

New Approaches by FeralTuxedo

E • 19k • human AU (professor/author) Professor Aziraphale Fell welcomes the attendees of the First Conference on New Approaches to Genre Fiction. Among them is keynote speaker and best-selling thriller author Anthony J. Crowley. Aziraphale has not seen him for twenty-five years. Sometimes, he can still feel the ghost of their parting kiss on his lips.

The Lines Between by Ginger_Cat

M • 21k • angel/demon (post armageddon) fucking exquisite out of this world prose i want to drink with my eyeballs. aziraphale notices something is wrong with crowley (love) but can't figure out why the current state of their relationship isn't enough for him. celestial, spirital banging. so, so many feelings. fucking delectable literary motifs.

Celestial Bodies by Justkeeptrekkin

M • 48k • angel/demon (1920s) pg wodehouse inspired fic where aziraphale has a human friend group that invite him and crowley for a weekend away in the country. it's so funny and delightful and the pining is agonisingly sweet, and i love seeing how crowley interacts with all these batshit humans aziraphale calls friends. i know i'm a jeeves & wooster feral but i can't recommend this fic enough

Man to Man by leukozyna

E • 62k • human AU (office) crowley is the token twink in a corporate office with a mad crush on his colleague. aziraphale seems very much to be straight, but after striking up conversation over drinks at an office party, the two start hooking up regularly so crowley can help him uncover his sexuality.

A Classical Education by Melibe

M • 1k • human AU (professors) what the fuck this fic only has 1k hits i assumed it was like a fanon classic thpfhtkjdhs. aziraphale recites latin poetry at an office party. “Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo,” Aziraphale enunciated clearly, knowing that only one person in the room understood the meaning of the archaic syllables: I will sodomize and face-fuck you.

The Rose Thief and the Priest by ImprobableDreams900

T • 15k • human AU (priest/gardener) When horticulturist A. J. Crowley sees a rare breed of rose in a churchyard, he decides he won't stop until he can get a cutting—even if he has to go through the church's stuffy priest to do so.

New Messages by TawnyOwl95

E • 38k (WIP) • human AU (fandom/online) Aziraphale writes fanfiction for the show Nice and Accurate Prophecies. Crowley draws fanart. THIS THING IS WRITTEN SO GOOD AND FUN AHHHHH so many laugh out loud points and feet kicking.

To reveal my heart in ink by chaoticlivi

E • 29k • angel/demon (post armageddon) aziraphale misses letter writing, so he and crowley start to write each other letters. it's easier to confess things on paper, even if they never mention the contents of their letters when they meet in person. it gets so dirty so fast (and aziraphale signing off every one with Your Dear Friend after detailing how he wants to tear crowley to pieces makes me wheeze laugh every time)

Demon and Angel Professors by Ghostinthehouse

T • series of 200 works, 133k total • human AU (professors) an incredible collection of drabbles (this bitch somehow makes every one 666 words) following a universe where aziraphale and crowley are both professors at the same uni. a mix of them and outsider povs, starting from the "two professors are married but no one realises it's to each other" trope, turning into some wonderful soft stories that reveal more of their relationship history, and loads of moments of queer and disabled solidarity.

[decaflondonfog]

writerly ephemera

a few years back my darling friend @the-starryknight started a tag game inspired by a chat we had in a writing server regarding all the little personal details we add to our art. humans hold so many things close to their hearts without even realising, memories, artefacts, places, turns of phrase... lots of precious little bits and bobs i adore! recently i had a chat with the lovely @billdenbrough about the familiar fear of putting a little too much of yourself into a character — when do you cross the self-insert line? but also, aren’t these the things that make our characters human? which got me thinking about starry's tag game. so i've decided to bring it back! here's how we're doing it:

✨ share some bits little bits of you, easter eggs, memories, etc. you have left scattered in your fics or art. if you fancy it, tag a pal. ✨

i apologise in advance for the ridiculous amount of yapping you’re about to read aaaand here are some silly little mari-isms i’ve let bleed into my writing:

🏡 "The house is a ridiculous thing that could easily sleep a whole Exy team, but when Kevin questions it, all Andrew does is shrug and say, “This wasn’t exactly planned, it’s the best I could find with the time I had.”"

geometric equilibrium has a few mari-isms in it. abby's house is based on my friend emma's house too but this feels the most relevant: the house in Asheville is based on a place i stayed in a couple of years ago! the real life one isn't in Asheville, though it is in NC. i spent a really happy week there with friends and it just popped into my head when i was writing this fic. the setup of the rooms (kevin's and andreil's being across the landing from each other) was useful for what i want to write (as well as the bathroom placement!) so i just ran with it.

🪩 “…the faded band t-shirt two sizes too big that the redhead has tucked into a leather mini skirt. Instead of the usual pair of boots, Neil’s wearing a pair of platform sneakers in black and white.”

ahhhhh kaleidoscope :’) the fic where i genderbent all the monsters and then turned neil into my wee dress up doll! all of neil’s outfits were based on stuff i own and this particular one was a fave during my clubbing days. the only thing i didn’t own when i wrote this fic were the black and white trainers which i now own hahaha

🛁 “Bitty cuts himself a generous slice of pie and eats it in the bath.”

i haven’t lived in a house with a bath for three years and i miss it dearly. i used to have pudding and booze in the bath on hard days and it was super therapeutic — honestly i was just living vicariously through bitty in growing pains

🌸 “There, in the corner, not covered by the laundry that Kevin didn’t put away, is a vintage armchair (…) It’s pink, with old, spoiled velvet, and half of the fringes at the bottom of the chair missing.”

approximately eight years ago i walked past an antique shop and fell in love with a pink velvet toad chair with a wee fringe at the bottom. i didn’t think i could afford it but told my partner i was going to try and convince the shop to let me rent it for a photoshoot. i got home after work one day and my partner had bought it for me 🥹 that chair has now been with us in four houses across three countries and used to be one of my late dog’s favourite nap spots. (the fact that i let kandrew desecrate the chair completely in do not disturb the cats was… a choice lmaooooo)

🪡 “Jean comes back to California after five weeks with the Foxes with his hair slightly too long and falling into his eyes, a smattering of fresh freckles over the bridge of his nose, and a new hobby.”

oh this might just be my favourite! when i saw @alcego’s prompt for t&n last year i kneeeeew it had to be mine. giving my Sad Wet Cat blorbo all of my craft hobbies? what a delight! the best part is that out of all the crafts i made him try in transferable skills, book binding (arguably the main one) is the one i never tried

does anyone want to share? i'll pass this along to the folks tagged above and also @vykio @rwnjun @storiesnstardust @greenautumnleaves @djhedy @thetrojeans @seasy33 @nanatsuyu and @sillyunicorn ❣️

[grahamcarmen]

Could you write a fic about the ‘she does nap on her side of the plane seats, on grays shoulder or on his lap [which he gets her to do because he promises to do the funfacts and rundown with player and she's just smiling at the addition to another bit of lively bickering added to her plane ride, but does get some sleep’?

It had been awhile since back to back missions had left Carmen feeling truly exhausted. Player usually made sure to keep the missions they went on well paced so that she would never miss VILE with their hands in the cookie jar but it would never overlap with having a good night's sleep and decent prep time . 

But VILE’s many impatient rapid fire attempts to rebuild had left Carmen flying for the next caper the moment the one she was working on was done. She hadn’t even been allowed a night's sleep as she worked out how to crack many capers ahead before she got to the one she was currently on.

Or rather she hadn’t allowed Player to convince her that leaving missions to ACME and Shadowsan was enough. VILE was stretching everyone thin and she wouldn’t stand by when she could help. When they could stamp out any sparks from growing back into the monster VILE was.

Still. It was catching up with her. 

She could feel her eyes fight to stay focused on the plans Shadowsan had sent and her words as she filled in the crew turn into a deep yawn.

She let her head bump into Gray’s shoulder, squeezed her eyes tight in a scramble to claim the second as true rest.

She rose with a deep breath ready to continue, and caught Gray’s expression as she faced him for a second.

“Ya know you could catch a few winks before we get there? We do have a long ride ahead of us this time.” He said as light as he could.

“Hmm that sounds great. But I just need to finish this rundown of the caper with “ She yawned. “...Zack and Ivy…”

“Hey, that’s short work, leave it to me.”

“Oh? You know a lot about our next destination.”

“Give me some credit mate, I've been around the block.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He laughed “Fine, you hear me say something wrong you pipe right up. If Player doesn’t first.”

“Just don’t be wrong.” Player piped up from the laptop. Gray rolled his eyes a bit before waving his hand towards her designated spot on the plane.

She ignored it in favor of plopping her head on his lap, smiling as she caught his surprise from the corner of her eye.

“Alright,” She yawned, turning until she was comfortable. “You can finish up the rundown.”

And she listened as he gave an overview of the the place VILE was targeting, and hummed with curiosity when he went into the local scene, and the small pride in his voice on being able to name a few must see vendors and hideaways.

“I thought tortas were sweet. Ya know cakes.” Zack mused.

“No, torta as the word for cake is used in Colombia, I think. We’re going to Mexico where if you tell them you want a torta you're going to get a sandwich.”

“AHHHHH, well that works for me, I’m starving!”

“Ha! When aren’t you starving?” Ivy laughed, lightly smacking Zack's shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Well Ivy for your information-”

“Hey Gray, do you expect to be personally funding these local outings?” Player said over Zack and Ivy as they continued.

“What? Isn’t that your job.”

“It's not ‘my job’. But I feel like if you're going to be the one inviting us- ”

Carmen opened her mouth -

“Us! Are you coming out of hibernation?”

Carmen laughed as Player’s indignant response came out in length about being compared to an animal from a former animal code name associator.

She opened one eye to catch Gray winking at her. He’d beat her to it. And would probably get a longer rebuttal than her teasing Player about his hermit ways would.

She snuggled into Gray as Player’s matter of fact voice offered his own findings [and defense against his hibernation] only for Gray to ask if Player could even handle a jalapeno.

"The caper..." She murmered.

"We're getting to it!" Gray laughed, stroking her hair and snapping his fingers at the siblings to get their attention again.

But it was too late, the conversation was fully invested on spice tolerance...or lack thereof.

Carmen smiled and let the sounds of her loved ones bickering for their own spice champion honor lull her into a comfortable rest.

They had gotten most of it covered and Gray would never let a mission go wrong on his watch.

Neither would Player, Ivy, or Zack.

She'd trust they’d be ready when she woke up.

Even if she thought she heard the sound of can opener along with the sound of Gray's voice finishing up the recon notes Player had sent.

-----

Might edit this later + love your username!

[persimminwrites]

okay sooooooooooo just going to dump whats been marinating in my head all day today (instead of me focusing on work lol)

putting reinald on a petri dish and looking at him with my lil microscope hes so so so interesting to me like hes been physically dead for about 300 years (give or take some time where he wasnt dead yet based on the notes and letters he leaves all around the mine) right but his soul is still there. is his mind/soul trapped in his body with the red miasmal? seems like the red miasmal was puppetting his body for a large majority of those 300 years but maybe he had some breaks in lucidity like he does when he talks with geralt. seems like he was fighting for control/fighting to keep the red miasmal for completely erasing him for 300 years and just the idea of that kind of entrapment is so so so sad but so so so interesting to me and even at the end of it hes still able to have a conversation with geralt, still for the most part able to be rational. like he hasnt been completely driven to madness iTS JUST SUCH A COOL CHARACTER AHHHHH

^^ fascinating implications about personhood and the mind-body problem much to think on and consider here i have not complete thoughts on this

more of a question as im still not super familiar with the witcher universe - are spirits always going to turn into some kind of bad specter? like if a spirit is still in the physical world and hasn't "moved on" and found peace does that mean it will eventually be corrupted? are there no "good" spirits? mostly wondering bc i have a few fic ideas kicking around my head for spirit!reinald but im just not sure how it fits into witcher lore/canon

related to reinald bc i do really want to write this story about a witcher that stumbles upon him and rescues him from his doomed fate (we lovvveeee fix it fics) - would love to make a lady witcher oc but based on what im reading online is that they just arent a thing except for in fanon (which isnt a problem for me lol), also lot of people being weird about gender on reddit about this (no one is surprised) but i wasnt sure if there was something i was missing!

more lady witcher oc thoughts - im reading up on all of the schools right now and initially i was really drawn to the school of the cat bc we love a rogue/assassin character design but they all seem to be BANANAS CRAZY CUCKOO SADISTS which is fine like if we're embracing fanon MY cat witcher doesnt have to be a maniac, but idk if any of you guys have thoughts about the witcher schools and favorites <3 (ideally she would not come from the same school as reinald)

also related - is there a good timeline for all of the creations and downfalls of the schools??? i couldn't find good dates on the wikis that i was reading but i was also on my phone. while im fully embracing making shit up with this, i was trying to get timelines that make sense. seems like reinald was alive and on this quest in 970 or 980 but i dont know how that lines up with all of the other schools and what theyre up to at the time

[heartthrobin]

and let our hands make art (3)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 7.5k

warnings: reader is a going thru a lot, swearing, half-assed space terminology (writer is not an astronomer), cheesy ending (everyone cheered)

an: ahhhhh !!! it's the last part. i'm so proud of this fic and i hope you loved reading it as much as i loved writing it :)))

summary: for what it's worth. you'd tried. tried hard not to let him in, but he was slick and greasy and the hot sun had melted you all over. and maybe sometimes you're allowed to want things.

part one & part two

Eddie stepped into the muggy kitchen. Your eyes flickered behind him where daddy was shaking Carl’s hand out on the porch, he handed Daddy a pocket-size bottle of rich brown whiskey.

Your gaze returned to the man in your kitchen.

For what was definitely the first time since you’d met him, Eddie was dressed like he didn’t live elbow deep in engine grease.

His hair was fluffier than usual, not matted down with sweat as it was most afternoons. He wore a black buttoned shirt, it was cuffed at the elbow.

“You— uh,” your gulp was embarrassingly loud: “you look … nice.”

To be fair, “nice” wasn’t nearly an accurate enough description to describe how the sight of him all crisp and dapper standing just close enough to smell the aftershave had turned your stomach into a high-power washing machine.

“Hmm, a compliment?” His eyebrow pinched against his forehead, his smirk was unavoidable. “Better park the truck in the barn, it’s gonna hail pigs tonight.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head. You hoped he didn’t notice where you felt your cheeks warming. “You know what, I take it back—“

He laughed loudly, “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Thank you for the compliment.”

His eyes glittered even in the dim room.

He surprised you by speaking again. “And you look … beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

Fiery streaks raged up your cheeks. Of course you don’t look beautiful, he’s just teasing.

The thought didn’t console your thumping heart, however.

“There’s the little miss!” Carl’s voice was booming in the limited vicinity of the kitchen.

His wide warm hand found purchase against your shoulder, shaking you jovially.

You wobbled slightly, “Good evening, Mr A.”

“I hear you been working my boy real hard out here in the dust, hey sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered between Eddie, who was harbouring a curled lip, and Carl where his grip tightened around the edge of the back of a chair at the table.

“Hmph,” you guffawed lightly. “I’m sure he thinks so.”

Carl’s stomach vibrated with laughter, he fell down into his seat across from where you stood. Eddie hesitantly pulled out the chair beside him.

Your eyes clung desperately to the buttons struggling against his chest.

Fuck. 

“Cherry, won’t you grab the salad from the fridge there.”

You felt the heat of Eddie’s gaze against your face: your eyes shifted quickly from where they’d been practically rubbing up his torso to meet the deep brown stare. 

His brow was cocked, amusement alight in his face.

“Cherry?” He mouthed.

Your eyes rolled back. 

“Shut up.” You mouthed back just quietly enough to evade a scolding from Daddy where he was carefully pulling the hot dish from the oven. 

Carl and Daddy did most of the talking that night. 

Forks scraped loudly against the plates between conversation of car engines and peaches and gas prices and incapable senators. 

Keeping your eyes on your plate proved difficult, just as it did most of all those afternoons in the barn, when Eddie was chewing animatedly around his mouthfuls of food. 

He crunched his salad loudly between his teeth and would sigh softly around particularly sweet pieces of chicken. A faint smudge of orange gravy lingered just below his bottom lip and the thought of licking it off was driving you to point of insanity. 

Somewhere around when Carl had dished up his third serving of cornbread, the chatter steered over to the tattooed mechanic at your end of the table. 

“So tell me son,” Daddy sipped at his glass of iced-tea, “How’d you end up in lil ol’ countryside Tennessee? Carl says you’re out from Indiana side?” 

Eddie nodded, swallowing a mouthful. Your gaze greedily watched his Adam’s apple bob at the action. 

“Yes sir, that’s right.”

He shifted in his seat, clearly searching for his next words. If you didn't watch him as much as you did, allow his words and actions to haunt you most nights, you might not have noticed how his hands curled into nervous fists. 

“I-- uh, I graduated late from high school and felt like I needed a new start. So I left and started working, nearby states and the like.”

Daddy surveyed him, clearly interested, “Oh yeah? Whereabouts?” 

Eddie shrugged, he caught your eye for a fraction of a moment before pulling it back to the man at the head of the table. 

“Over the last two years, Kentucky, Arkansas ... Virginia for a while.” He spooned another heaping of mash into his mouth, “Never stay in one place too long.”

His last sentence struck you harder in the gut than you’d anticipated.

So you were right. 

He isn't staying. 

You hadn't even noticed that the conversation had steered to you before Carl rapped his knuckles loudly against the table -- 

“Caught in her own world this one, huh?” He was chuckling again, a laugh that sounded like dragging a bag of fertiliser over tar. 

“Beg your pardon, Mr A?” 

The old man stuck a persistent hand in your direction, swallowing roughly around a mouthful. “Was just asking what you get up to ‘round here, when your toes ain’t between the soil. Surely you got somethin’ keeping you busy.”

“Oh, there’s nothing really--”

“All I mean is I don’t see any young farm boys hangin’ round in the evenings, sure ya old man’s glad for that.” He was jostling Daddy in the arm. The look on Daddy’s face was blurry, like you couldn’t read him, but you swore his eye flickered over to where you could feel Eddie’s gaze on your cheek from across the table. 

“Nope, none a’ that.” He said. 

Carl turned back to you, face twisted in anticipation. 

You shifted the mash on your plate. “Nothing really, Mr A. Lots of work to do, I stay busy with my toes between the soil.” 

“Now that’s not true, Cherry.” Daddy piped up from his end of the table, he waved his fork in the air. “Tell him about all your space things.”

“Space things?” Carl’s brow tightened. “Oh yeah?” 

“Space things?” 

Eddie. 

He was looking at you through those thick lashes, waterline dark with black liner. 

The racing blush heating your face was impossible to miss, you were sure.

“Well, it’s not really--” 

“Yeah, Cherry loves all that stuff. The stars, and the planets and the atmosphere: all that Star Track and Star Worlds--”

“Daddy.”

The unfolding interaction was only brightening the amusement in Eddie’s eyes. He set his cutlery down. 

“Star Trek, hey?” 

“No. It’s not that stuff,” you fought to defend your quickly deteriorating reputation. “The real science, not that crap on television. Real constellations, milky ways, foreign galaxies. Distant stars. Stuff like that.” 

Eddie’s head was tilted against his shoulder, he was watching you unabashedly. 

“I’d say. With all the textbook and posters I’ve bought over the years. Her room is covered in ‘em. Stars everywhere.”

“That’s ... that’s cool.” Eddie sounded out of breath when he spoke. 

“I ain’t smart enough to understand all that.” Carl shrugged, forking more food down his gullet. 

“Sure is cool, ‘least she thinks so.” Daddy pressed. “She’ll show you all her books and that after dinner, Eddie. Won’t you, Cherry?” 

Somehow the mash had hardened upon his words, it lodged like a stone in your throat. 

You coughed loudly. “Daddy, I don’t think Eddie’s interested in my--”

But between the food and the incessant pester of three men who love the sound of their own voices, not for the first time since you sat for dinner, you were unable to finish your sentence. 

“I would actually love to see your posters and your books.”

The edge of that grin could slice a fat, ripe peach all the way across in one go.

Carl overtook table talk again. Something about a memory from when him and Daddy were in high school, something about an old football player with a bad knee. 

It stretched beyond plates scraped clean. 

“How about a bit of that Daniels out on the porch, huh old boy?” Carl asked finally. 

Daddy sighed, hand rubbing over his stomach protruding over the belt on his jeans. “A’ course.” 

He turned to you, he referenced over the plates with his hand. “Cherry would you mind, dear?”   

You nodded enthusiastically, desperate for relief from avoiding looking up to Eddie’s figure across from you. 

The chairs scraped loudly. 

“You’re welcome for a drink, Munson.” Carl pressed. 

A wide hand chased back loose hairs, “No, no, I’m alright. Thanks boss.” 

The plates clattered against each other where you stacked them. A warm grasp made you jump when it closed over yours. 

“Let me take that.” 

He was much closer now when you met his face. 

“It’s-- don’t worry I got it.” 

Warm familiarity lapped at your brain, the memory of that first hot afternoon between the peaches. A crate of fruit against your hip. 

His voice softened, just as it did that day. “Come on. Let me help you, love.” 

The word settled deep into a cove in the pit of your stomach. Love. 

“Okay.” 

Cool water rushed noisily into the depths of the sink, soap frothed happily on the surface. The plates swum below the surface. 

“You washing or drying?” Eddie asked at you where you were searching the cupboard for a sponge. 

He fidgeted with the end of his shirt that was tucked into his jeans, not for the first time that evening. 

God, this shirt is itchy. 

But it was his best one. The one he’d dug out from the back of his cupboard a couple minutes before Carl pulled up and whistled at him from the driver’s seat.

“All dressed up to see ya’ princess, ay Munson?” 

He’d washed his hair, opened up a bottle of shower gel that had been hidden in one of the many boxes scattered around his place and even had a second to struggle against black eyeliner in his bathroom mirror. 

But he hadn’t seen her all week. Seen you all week. 

Like a siren song you haunted him in his dreams, on his drive to the shop and when his fingers fumbled between filthy engine parts he thought of you then too. 

“Uhm, whatever you want.” 

“I’ll wash then.” 

The sight of you in the kitchen with the muddy ends of your jeans and your hair shining with the afternoon sun through the window was enough to convince him that all the dress up hadn't been in vain. That you actually did exist and you weren’t some mirage he'd dreamt up in a haze of Tennessee soil and engine grease fumes. 

His hands sunk into the warm water, you tossed the sponge where he caught it: wetting the side of his shirt. 

The yellow sponge squeaked over the plates. 

You hummed quietly. Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing. Say, women, they will come and they will go. 

He was taken back to the drive home from Madison’s. Fleetwood Mac again. 

Eddie could listen to the soft hum of your voice forever, he only wish you’d sing.

Instead you stopped, stopped Dreams to lean over and pick up a dry towel. 

“Nice dinner.” He commented into the silence, head down towards the water. His hair tickled at his nose. 

You smiled only briefly, from what he caught from the side of his eye and between the tendrils of his hair. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Carl’s got a real mouth on him.” 

Eddie chuckled, “Yeah. He likes your old man.” 

You laughed, soft like a butterfly’s fluttering wings. “Clearly. He talks like everything was just yesterday. When they ran track, when they got drunk at Mr Alistair’s house--”

Eddie blew at the piece of hair against his lip. 

He could feel you turn to him, trepidation lingering at your fingertips that had slowed to a stop. 

“You ... you need a hand there with that mane?”  

The question surprised him, but he nodded nonetheless. A little bit of a chuckle preceding his response. 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” 

From around your wrist, you produced a yellow hair tie. 

You laughed in return, “Kind of scared to get my hands into this jungle on top of your head.” 

“Come on: you love it, doll.”

You huffed, “Shut up, Greenie. Lean your head back.” 

He brought his head to rest back against his shoulders, where with absolutely no warning your warm hands reached between the tendrils. 

A sigh escaped him, one he prayed you never heard. Fingertips climbed from the base of his head to just above his forehead, his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Looks clean for once.” Your voice was soft. 

He barely heard your jab. 

“Mhm.” 

Eddie felt the hair lift off his shoulders. 

Your fingers chased longer than they should have. It was quiet. 

He was plagued with the wonder of what those hands would feel like against his own palm. Against his chest or behind his neck. Maybe in the space at the bottom of his back. 

“It’s soft.” You whispered. He speculated on whether you intended on him hearing it at all. 

A plate slipped from his grip. It banged against the floor of the sink. 

Your hands were gone.

His eyes flew open, in the reflection of the window he noticed how you’d tied the hair up into a bun like how he wore it most days. 

You coughed quietly. 

“Looks--looks good.” He clarified, a wobble to the edge of his voice. “Thanks.”

Your hands sunk into the water, you shrugged. “That’s how you wear it most of the time.” 

“So you noticed, hm?” He tried to steady his voice again, falling back into playful banter.

“Yeah.” But your voice missed it’s usual teasing lilt, “I like it like that. Can see your face better.” 

Eddie’s eyes flickered up from the soapy plate. You were wiping away like you hadn’t just made all the hair on his body stand straight up. 

He forwent acknowledging your words.

  “So ... Cherry, huh?” 

You laughed again, it melded with the clink of the plate against the others where you sat it down. “Yep. Cherry. He’s always called me that.” 

Eddie’s brow tugged, motioning over his shoulder back towards where the barn sat behind the house. “Something to do with that Cobra stuck up in the barn, does it?”

“Indeed.” You nodded, “You couldn’t get me out of that thing growing up. Daddy would come fetch me in the driver’s seat long past sunset fiddling with the steering wheel.” 

He smiled at the notion. The image of a younger you sitting, humming Fleetwood Mac behind the wheel of a stationary, cherry red Cobra. 

“That barn is fucking hot.”

That made Eddie laugh harder. “You’re fucking telling me.”

The laughter filled every crevice in the kitchen, enough that he spotted your daddy and Carl looking back over their shoulders from their rocking chairs out on the deck. 

It took a minute before his chest rumbled to a slow, low chuckle. 

You shook your head, the huffs of a last laugh escaping you. “It was my mother’s.”

Eddie’s hands stilled. His brow creased, “What?”

The air had grown stiller. Your smile was weaker. “You asked me that first day, how does a car like this end up on a farm in the middle of nowhere?” 

His chest tightened, his words sounded worse coming from your mouth now than when he’d said them first. 

He nodded slowly. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. The only thing left of her ‘round here.”

The plate squeaked beneath his fingertips, the last one. 

“She ... is she--?” 

“Is she dead?” Your words slipped out with a strange-sounding chuckle, “No, not at all. Just a deadbeat. Walked out. Left the car though, thank God.” 

“Shit.” Eddie didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. “I’m ... I’m sorry.” 

The stark reality of your trooping around the farm washed over him warmer than the already stifling kitchen. Why you patrolled and frowned and worked and shrugged off every grease-head that came traipsing up on the farm. 

It was just you. There was nobody else to do it. 

His thoughts were cut in half when you bumped your shoulder against his arm, wiping down your hands with a cloth before offering it to him. “Don’t be. It’s better without her.”  

You were looking right up at him for the first time since reaching the sink. Your eyes brought him comfort. “Right ... you wanna go join the men outside for a drink--”

He caught you by your wrist before you’d even moved to turn, “Uh, uh, uh.”

Your eyes rolled, already knowing where this was going but still not pulling your arm from his grip. 

“You thought I was gonna forget?” He grinned, “I wanna see your space stuff.”

 “You’re not serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack.” 

His touch moved from your wrist to your hand, shifting it gently against his palm. Still, you didn’t take it back. Instead your lashes rested annoyed up against your eyebrows.

“Fine.” 

Eddie’s heart thrummed against his ribs as you lead him through the kitchen, attached by the hand towards a darkened staircase and pounded harder when you moved slowly up with heavy steps. 

This wasn’t how he’d imagined being lead to your room the first time, but somehow it felt more fitting. 

“I can practically hear you forming a bad joke about going to my room.” 

He scoffed, wondering momentarily if you could really tell what he was thinking.

“No, I wasn’t.”

A narrow corridor, two doors. The tall one at the end. 

“Yes you were.”

The brass knob whined beneath your hand. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Just admit it, I know you were cooking up some perverted comment under that big head of hair, Munson.”

The door creaked open.

“Perverted? I wouldn’t dare dream of such--”

Eddie stopped. Talking and walking. 

Your hand broke from his. 

He’d fallen into a technicolour acid trip. 

The sky lunged at him, an expanse of stars and red and blue fog as far as he could see. 

Clippings, posters, little squares of text cut from what he was sure was magazines and newspapers. They covered every square inch of the room, the colour of the wall a discarded mystery. 

A single bed leaned against the wall closest to the window, a side attraction to the universe engulfing it. There was a blonde wooden desk in the corner, barely discernible from beneath the stacks of newspapers and textbooks leaning precariously upon it. 

“Well, this is it I guess." you wrung your hands, shoulders pulled up against your reddening ears. "I told you it’s not much ...”

Eddie’s eyes found you again. The most beautiful thing between the galaxies, he’d decided. 

He was reminded by your short nervous breaths that he still hadn’t said anything. 

“It’s ... this is amazing.” 

Your shoulders slumped slightly, letting him know that he’d spoken appropriately. You took a small relieving sigh, it was followed tentatively by a smile. 

“Thanks. It took a long time to collect everything, magazines and books and ... posters from yard sales.” 

Eddie took a slow step towards the nearest wall, watching how the stars climbed to the ceiling. “Do you know what they’re all called?”

His finger pressed against what looked like a pink and orange cloud. 

You stepped quickly from where you’d been standing hesitantly by the door, a warm richness to your tone when you spoke: 

“I mean, not all of them, but that one is Orion’s Nebula.” You pressed your finger against his and goosebumps ran up his arm. “It’s in our Milky Way and on some clear nights you can even see it in the sky without a telescope! It’s thirteen hundred lightyears away--”

You were so close against the side of Eddie’s face. His heart was swelling like a parade balloon in his chest, he thought he might collapse at the sound of your voice. 

His finger moved quickly to the next, “And this one?” 

“That’s the Crab Nebula, the reason it’s called that is because--” your words were punctuated with your giggles, “--the guy who first discovered it drew a rough sketch and people thought it looked like a crab.”

His finger moved to the next, “This one?” 

“This one’s a star. Betelgeuse. It’s also called Alpha Orionis--”

But Eddie couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough. His finger shifted to the next and the next and the next until you’d been speaking for nearly twenty minutes and Eddie could see every single constellation behind your eyes as you did, quickly losing grasp on his sense of sanity. 

“-- and they’re building this telescope, it’s called Hubble, that they’re gonna launch in the next ten years and it’s gonna be able to take much better photos than these that I’ve got.”

Maybe you’d finally caught him staring, but you stopped suddenly. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking too long.” He watched how your shoulder came back up close to your ears in embarrassment. 

“It’s amazing.”

You’re amazing.

“You’re making me fall in love with space.”

You’re making me fall in love with you.

You nodded slowly, “I’m glad. I’m surprised that not everyone is.” 

“Why didn’t you go study space or something after high school?” He waved over the lengths of stars and galaxies and planets around the room. “You’re the smartest woman in this whole town, if not the state.”

Your mouth opened to respond, then closed again. You chewed around your words for a long moment before eventually spitting them out. 

“I did.” You sounded ashamed. “I applied to astronomy in Arizona and California and a couple other states.” 

“And?” 

Suddenly your hands felt hot. You pressed them down the sides of your filthy jeans. Eddie’s confused eyes held you in place against the wood floor.

“I got in.” 

He took a step towards you, shortening the distance you’d allowed yourself to breathe. “Why didn’t you go?”

The laugh you let off was short and humourless, cold and sensitive to the touch. You motioned your hand over your shoulder at the window. 

“I can’t leave here. My daddy wouldn’t survive all alone.”

Eddie took another step, shorter this time but enough to bring him where his breath tickled your cheeks. A sweaty hand reached to find yours.

“Did he ever tell you that?”

It pressed against your own warm palm. 

“He doesn’t have to.”

There was a couple strands of black hair peeking out around his face and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He was too close, far too close. 

“There’s a planetarium in Chicago, I saw it on TV once. A big one.” His voice was soft like Sunday wind blowing against linen on the line. “We could go. I could take you.”

Your heart leapt up to your throat, your lips open in a silenced gasp. “The Adler Planetarium?” You asked softly. Breathlessly. 

Eddie inched forward and somewhere within yourself you found the courage to allow him to. He chuckled softly, his furry top lip reached out to yours if only for a brush. “I’m sure that’s the one. I’m not as smart as you, doll.”

For a hot fleeting second, the vision crossed your mind: you and Eddie in his white pick-up, driving hours across the country. Seeing a real planetarium like how you’ve dreamed for so long, seeing another state, seeing Chicago. 

Maybe it would be cold like how you never saw in Tennessee. Maybe you’d have to wear snow boots and maybe Eddie would hold your gloved hand the whole time. 

Suddenly, you found his thumb at your jaw. You couldn’t recall how it found it’s way, but it stayed. He twisted his face so as to press his hot lips against your cheek. He kissed there once, then again. 

Your eyes rolled closed, imagining for a moment to be beneath the starry Illinois sky with Eddie pressed against you the way he was just then. 

He moved slowly down, catching your breath at the top of your throat with each peck down over your jaw, to the column of your neck and at the junction of your collar bone.

“Will you come with me?” He whispered. His hand was still tight between your fingers, the other stroking against your jaw. 

“I--”

Somewhere in the distance, Cowboy barked. 

“Cherry!”

Your eyes flew open as if ripped from a dream in the dead of night. The icy cold hand of circumstance tightened over your throat. Visions of Chicago dissolved quickly from behind your eyes. 

You stepped back out of Eddie’s grip.

He straightened up, confusion deep-set in his thick brow. “Uh, I think your old man is calling.”

“I heard.” You were avoiding his eye, wiping a hand over your neck where you could still feel his lips. “We should go.” 

Despite your best effort of trying to pass him towards the door uninterrupted, Eddie caught your wrist. His face dripped in sincerity.

“So, Chicago?”

You shook your head, waiting for the lump in your throat to allow you to speak. 

“T-That’s two states away. I can’t afford to leave, Eddie.” You pulled your hand from his grasp. 

“Cherry, Carl’s heading out!”

The way his cheeks sunk at the fall of his smile made you nauseous. 

“It’s not that far, just a couple hours. We could go for a weekend, or just a night. Or even just a day--”

The rolling waves of embarrassment you’d become achingly familiar with washed over you again. The same ones that drowned you when your friends would visit from college or send pictures of their new lives at the coast or on the road. The waves that reminded you of the decisions your mother made, the same ones you can’t repeat. 

You didn’t want to leave, you couldn’t. 

“Eddie, I just can’t, alright?” You pressed, a sharp edge to your voice. “Not all of us can just jump state to state, I have a family. I have responsibilities--”

“I have a family.” 

It shut you up. Quickly.

It was a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind, you realised selfishly. A thought that paused you in your tracks. 

Eddie’s face was pulled tightly, in a way you’d never seen it. 

“I have people who care about me back home too. I have responsibilities.”

“Eddie, I--”

“Cherry!”

“Doll, if you didn’t want to go you could have just said so. I can take a hint.” 

He moved faster past you than you had opportunity to blink away the tears prickling at the edge of your eyes. 

By the time you’d given up on swallowing around the lump in your throat and reached the landing in the kitchen, Eddie and Mr Abernathy were nothing but a cloud of dust over the driveway. 

- 

He returned the next day. 

You didn’t go down to greet and he didn’t come near the house. 

Around midday the white pick-up pulled into the driveway. You watched down on the yard from the window of your room, the Orion Nebula glaring a hole into the side of your head from the wall. Eddie emerged with a red toolbox and disappeared around the house. 

You didn’t make him lunch and he never came to ask. You hoped he might. 

But the hours passed and the sun sunk while bitterness and guilt tugged at either end of the same rope across your chest. 

I shouldn’t have snapped at him. 

He should learn to mind his own business, he knows nothing about me.

It would be nice to go with him to Chicago, he’s sweet for asking. 

He’s just gonna play with your heart and then jump over to the next state to do the same thing with some other poor broad. And who’s gonna have to pick up the pieces when he leaves? Me!

Your head rung until you were sick in the stomach. 

Past sunset the truck still lingered in the driveway. The air was muggy with the promise of a storm. 

You were packing pesticides in the shed around the back of the house with Cowboy’s tail thumping against the wood when you heard footsteps passing. 

The dog leapt clumsily to his feet, keen to chase after his most favourite person. 

You heard Eddie’s soft coo at the dog, “hey big boy”, and his foot falls up the three porch steps. Then the knock at the door. 

Daddy answered, you tried to listen but the conversation disappeared between the wind and the swaying peach leaves. 

He called for you, Daddy, but you pretended not to hear.

Embarrassment and shame and guilt and anger bubbled too close to the surface. You didn’t want to see Eddie. Maybe not ever again. 

You knew it to be a lie. A temporary comfort to your troubled mind. 

Thunder rumbled grumpily far out above your head. 

His lips still hadn’t left your neck and when your eyes shut you still heard his laugh against your cheek. You thought he may just have driven you insane. 

Only once you’d heard the jostle of the car disappearing down the road did you slip out from the shed under a sheath of lightning strike into the yellow lit kitchen. 

A set of keys was watching you from the counter. Daddy was scrubbing a pair of dirty jeans in the sink. He glanced over his shoulder at you. 

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded as if he could see you, but your eyes never left the counter. “Those the Cobra keys?” 

Daddy gave a triumphant huff, flicking his hands off by the sink and reaching for a dish cloth. “Indeed it is. Eddie came by just a couple minutes ago, said she’s all fixed up. We can give her a go in the morning.” 

Your heart dropped like a hot stone into your stomach. 

It was done. 

The car was done-- he was done. 

“Oh.” 

Daddy’s barely dry hands pulled the keys off the wood, he cradled your hand and let them fall into your palm. He smiled and you worked hard to smile back. 

“These are yours, Cherry.” He spoke softly, tightening his hand over your own. “She’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. You just need the courage to get behind the wheel.” 

Against the pinching in your chest, you managed a mostly genuine chuckle. “Don’t be so cliché, daddy.” 

He watched your face with an earnest you hadn’t seen from him in a long time. It unsettled you. 

“Daddy?” 

“I called you when he handed in the keys. You didn’t come.” 

Your hand grew hot between his palms. “I didn’t hear you.” 

He knew you were lying, you could tell. A pause hung between you.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter, Cherry.” 

He sucked in a breath, reaching a damp hand to pat against the side of your face. 

“But you’re allowed to want things, sweetheart. To want something more, or want someone to share it all with.” 

“Daddy ...” your thoughts swirled like whisky in a dancer’s cup, “I-- thank you for the car, I’m happy. I don’t know what you’re--”

“You’re not your mother, Cherry.” 

His words stung like steaming coffee tossed over your face. 

You blinked. The pain eased. 

The edges of your eyes prickled and suddenly your throat burned. “I know. I don’t want to be.” 

“Well, you’re not. And the world deserves some of you, too.” 

Daddy had never spoken so candidly, maybe from a shared well of fear you’d both drank far too long from. 

“Where is this coming from?” 

He shrugged. Rubbing a thumb down your cheek, then back up again. 

“Maybe the pathetic look on that mech’s face when you didn’t come say goodbye after I called.” 

“That’s--”

“And maybe something about a planetarium in Chicago.” 

Your stomach jumped violently. “How did you--”

Daddy laughed, head tossed back and old age hanging off his face. “Carl’s a big talker, you know that.”

Reeling from the tug of a conversation twenty years in the making, you nodded slowly. “Right.” 

He leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead before turning to pick his hat off the counter. “And you’re welcome, Cherry. For the car. It was always yours.” 

A smile found your face. “Uh, you wouldn’t mind if I took her for a quick spin?” 

He stalled at the base of the steps where he’d slowly been creeping to bed. Daddy took a glance out the window. “There’s a storm lingering. Don’t be long.” 

- 

The wind was whipping wildly when you met the doors of the barn. 

Night was stronger than the back porch light and Cowboy’s soft upper lip flickered from the force of the gale. He was watching you in concern. 

As the doors opened, the dust from within swirled into a cloud of brown up through your hair and over your face. The keys jingled in your hand. 

You noticed that Eddie had moved the crates out the way, stacking them neatly in a corner behind the car. The same crates you’d leaned against on hot afternoons. 

The door clicked open in the dim air, making the car look a blackened red in the dark barn, and Cowboy was the first to leap in: desperate for an escape from the biting conditions. 

Following him, you collapsed into the seat. 

Stiff knuckles wrapped around the smooth leather wheel and you weren’t sure if you could cry or throw up or even start the car. Alas, the key was slotted with shaking hands into the ignition and she purred to life. 

You didn’t bother with the sentimentality of enjoying the sound - because then maybe you’d really be sick out the window - instead you pressed a hard foot down on the accelerator and let the car fly against gravel out and around the farmhouse. 

The path was dark, following the only road that went anywhere. The first pats of rain were smearing the window before where the headlights reached into the collapse of darkness ahead. 

So I begin not to love you.  Turn around to see me runnin’, I say I loved you years ago. 

Against the thrumming of your brain behind your forehead, you barely noticed that the radio had been playing since you’d left the safety of the barn. The sound of Silver Springs grew softer as the rain began to collapse brutally and unceremoniously against the windscreen. Lightning cracked over Tennessee and town teased you in the distance. 

Beyond the rumbling above, within and below, the warmth streaking down your face had gone amiss until Cowboy leaned his wet nose against your jaw from the passenger seat. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks against the back of your sleeve and with your vision progressively blurring, patted his wide head dismissively. 

The ground passing beneath you plagued little on your mind. Will you come with me?

The car was the only thing your mother hadn’t been able to pack fast enough on her way out. 

You’re not your mother, Cherry. 

The ghost of Eddie’s hand closed over yours on the wheel. You thought for a moment that maybe the car could take you all the way to Chicago without stopping and he’d be there waiting for you. Or maybe San Francisco, he’d be there as well. Or Pheonix or New York or Miami. He’d be there every time. 

You couldn’t say how far you’d driven out by then: surely not as far as Chicago, but not yet close enough to town. The storm roared around you and the streetlights were few and far between when the car gave a long whine and a jerk. 

Eyes flying wider open, your grip tightened around the wheel. 

Was I such a fool? I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you. Give me just a c-chance--

Stevie Nicks stuttered at you before stalling to silence. 

The dial behind the wheel was slowing, winding closer to zero and the car fumbled beneath you. 

“Fuck ... fuck--” your eyes chased wildly over the dashboard, you slapped the wheel. “No, please not now, please--”

But she did. The car dragged to a roll before a steady stop. Cowboy pawed the dash. 

“Fucking idiot, that son of a bitch--!” 

Behind the fizzled car headlights, you could make out the cloud of smoke rising from the bonnet. 

A scream like a shot bird rang from your lungs through the depths of the car, you slammed reddened palms against the wheel, again, again. Cowboy whined loudly, barking softly and clearly confused. 

You threw the door open with as much force as throwing an axe over a log, tearing out into the pouring rain. The dog leapt after you, barking loudly now at your heels.

Pain chased up your ankle through your foot from where your boot connected with the tire of the car. Your voice ripped again, out into the space between the raindrops and into the flat plains of land.

By then, you hacked and swore against the sobs tearing at your chest. The tears mingled against the rain that weighed your clothes down and stuck your hair to the sides of your face. 

You kicked the tire again. You tugged on the bonnet and it flew up. 

Equipped with limited knowledge of cars, the inky darkness of night and pouring rain: you simply stared into the depths of the car wishing to melt into the tar.

A freckle of light in the distance made you turn. 

The freckle grew to a speck as it neared. A speck to two headlights. 

Cowboy stood firmly beside you, barking hysterically in it’s direction. 

Maybe someone heading to another farm further down the road?

There was a limited range of individuals who would be out at this hour so far from town, but as the car neared it was impossible for the driver to go amiss. 

The white pick-up slowed as it neared you, pulling to a stop just a few metres off. 

You threw your hands up, “Just my fucking luck!”

The door opened, Eddie held his arm up against the rain. Cowboy ran up to and then past him, leaping into the driver’s seat he’d just abandoned. His headlights shone on you.

“What are you doing out here!” He yelled against the sky, “You’re gonna get struck by--”

“I wouldn’t be out here if you had actually fixed this fucking car, Munson!”

You turned against him, back to the bonnet. 

It was in his character to sigh dramatically, you could practically feel it against your back. 

“Let me have a look at it.” He stepped closer, but you raised a hand at him, meeting his eyes across the steps of tar and rain dividing you. 

“I don’t want your help.”

His hands met his hips, hands curling into tight fists there. Eddie was a vision in the mingling headlights of his truck and your Cobra: hair soaked through and framing his face, he was in the same muddy pants and stained shirt he’d left the farm in less than an hour ago.

“So what?” His voice was tight, annoyed and laced in exhaustion. “You gonna fix it yourself? Leave it here and walk home, then?” 

“Maybe I will!”

Eddie took a controlled step forward again, finger raised at you where you’d afforded him just half a glance up from the bonnet. 

“You’re stubborn as a mule, you know that?” 

Your throat still burned. You turned to the Cobra again. Everything was blurry beyond your lash-line. 

“You knew that a long time ago, Eddie.” 

Lightning split the sky and thunder cracked. 

“When are you just going to admit that you like me, too, Y/n?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!”

Your eyes found him again, blinking away your tears against the rain. The vision reminded you of the warm afternoon he’d first appeared: from a haze of dust and bonnet fog to rescue you. Tonight again.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Your head shook, your chest rumbled with sobs. “You only think you like me now, Eddie--” 

His black eyeliner ran, he stepped closer. The cold was seeping into his bones, his brain rattled with the sound of the crying sky but mostly he shook at the sight of you so weary. A reflection of the girl he was coming to love, a ghost of the one he’d been privileged enough to unravel. 

“That’s not true.”

“But it is true. You’re gonna grow bored of me, of what I can offer, of who I am. Then you’re gonna leave to Phoenix, or Dallas or wherever else and find someone else to love and I’m gonna have to piece myself back togeth--”

The sight of your shaking shoulders and shivering hands was making Eddie’s stomach ache. He took the last step into the stretch of road diving you and him, taking your freezing frame into his hands. 

Eddie’s head shook, he couldn’t seem to get it to stop. “Never, my love ... never ever. I’ll go where you go, I’ll stay where you stay. I’ll sleep on the floor of that fucking barn every day for the rest of my days if you’ll allow me.” 

Your forehead fell into the space between his neck and shoulder, you were crying still. “Eddie ...” 

“I want to listen to you talk about stars or galaxies and I want you to make us sandwiches and talk like you know better about everything, because you mostly do. I just want you, I’ll never leave this town if you never want me to.”

He took your face into his trembling hand, lifting you from his shoulder so your gaze sunk into his. Your lashes were tear-stained and still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. You swallowed hard.

“What do you want, doll? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Your hand found the side of his face, your head shook. 

“If you want me to leave,” he whispered to you, “I’ll go, my love.”

There was a long moment where Eddie thought you might not even speak again. You blinked against the rain.

“I want to go to Chicago.”

Your hand sunk further past his ear and into the depths of his hair, curling your nails against the root. “I want to see the planetarium, I want to go to Indiana ... I want to meet your family.”

You hiccuped, then laughed, then kept talking:

“I want to see San Francisco and NASA with you, and I want to wake up next to you. I promise I won’t make you sleep in the barn--” He laughed and pressed his forehead to yours, “--And I want to do grocery shopping with you and tell everyone in the store that you’re mine. Tell them that I’m so sick on loving you.”

Eddie nodded. “We can do that. I can do that.”

You watched him wearily. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.” His nose bumped yours, “Can I please kiss you now, farm-girl?”

Your body melted against him in response, surging forward so that your lips found his. Eddie’s body slumped against yours, like his body had found rest. 

The taste of rainwater and peach jam swirled against his lips and Eddie was sure it was the sweetest thing he’d ever taste in all his days gone and to come. He grasped deliriously for your hips, his head spinning from your kiss, and nudged you until he fell over you in through the open door into the front seat of the Cobra: a shelter from the rain. 

You laughed beneath him, against him, and his hair dripped over your face. 

Eddie’s knee pressed against the red leather in the space between your legs, he leaned over your sopping frame. 

He gasped for breath, you did the same. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of, doll.” 

You captured his face between your hands, flushing red in your cheeks despite the cold. “Don’t be cheesy, Greenie. I like it too much.”

Silence fell for a moment. Eddie watched your brow crease. He kissed you again, he was drunk on it.

You tugged him off by the root of his hair.

“Why were you driving this way?” You asked, shifting to lean up on your elbows: suspicion heavy in your gaze.

Eddie chuckled sheepishly, eyes falling to your waist. 

“I ... well, I was coming to apologise.”

“What for?”

He shrugged bashfully. “For last night, and ... and for this.”

From the depths of his pocket, Eddie pulled out a piece of something that definitely looked like it belonged somewhere under the bonnet of the car that had so readily given up on you. 

You gasped. “You bastard.” 

Eddie laughed, “I needed you to have a reason to come talk to me again.”

Sighing softly, you moved some hair out of his face. “I’ll always find a reason to talk to you again.”

“Well, well. Who’s being cheesy now?”

You rolled your eyes, catching him by his silver chain and tugging him against your lips again. 

“Shut up.” You mumbled.

-

taglist:

@corrodedcoffincumslut @akiratoro420 @pricelessemotion @chloe-6123 @tiny-bird-of-sunshine @allthefandomstogetheratlast @wyverntatty @munsster @jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille @akiratoro420

[comatosebunny09]

just now seeing the writing game AHHHHH 20, 26, and 37 if they haven’t been answered yet!! 🎤

LOVE YOU BUNNY!! 💕 💞

Heya, cutie pie!

For the ask game…

20. I have several things that constantly show up in my fics. They’re primarily phrases or words that I inadvertently use all the time. For example, a shock of (hair color) hair, comparing a character’s voice or emotions to a thunderstorm (I love rain and thunder so much), and describing the movement of fingers as spindly spider limbs, to name a few. There are so many that I’d have to write an essay on how often I reuse things. 😅😅😅 I also use the misunderstanding trope quite frequently. It’s from personal experience. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I missed out on befriending or being romantically involved with someone because I was too stupid to see the signs. If not for my husband blatantly telling me he wanted to be my boyfriend, I would’ve continued living in ignorant bliss.

26. My wildest ride would be this fic right here. It started as a horny headcanon, but I ended up fleshing it out in a fic. I remember I was so afraid to post it because I didn’t want to be perceived as a horny freak. I think it was the first time I’d written something that (for me) was so raunchy and unhinged, especially for the blorbo it involved. To this day, I refer back to it whenever I need a quick fix (wink wink nudge nudge). 👀👀👀 That fic was one of the turning points for how I write smut now.

37. This question is difficult because I never know how to end a chapter. Sometimes, I just write with no end in sight, and when I’m proofreading or revising my first draft, I say, “Hmm, this is too much. Let’s end this right here and save everything after it for the next part.” I’m starting to build a reputation for ending my chapters with cliffhangers. 😅😅😅 So, it helps to end with a sentence that will raise eyebrows or make people clutch their figurative pearls (or hate me).

Thank you so much for the ask, sweetness! Ily! ❤️❤️❤️

[littlespacereader]

Hi, could you write a story about Han solo caring for little Luke or Leia? Thanks a lot!

My first ever Star Wars Age Regression Fic!! Caregiver Han Solo is not something I thought I needed in my life until this fic!! Ahhhhh!! I can just picture him being so cranky yet so caring! He’s roped into it but he absolutely loves it😂 Plus I decided why not both and made it Little Leia and Luke to add to the drama😂 Good luck to Han and Chewie in this fic! Enjoy!!!

Double Twin Trouble✨

Caregiver!Han Solo, Little!Leia Organa & Little!Luke Skywalker (SFW)

Tags- Han needs a break, cuddles, stuffies, pacifiers, missing little is found, comfort fic, hair braiding, forehead kisses

Nicknames - princess, kid, sweetheart, little Jedi, little troublemaker, Chewie for Chewbacca, ‘an for Han

With the rebellion on pause for a while, it’s given everyone a chance to take a breath and relax for a while.

That’s been especially needed for Han, Luke and Leia. The three have been running ragged with leading the rebellion and running from the Empire. But now they settled down on a peaceful planet without the Empire knowing and with the rebellion regrouping.

That left the three, plus Chewie, time to finally relax and take a much needed break. Though…the break isn’t really a break for Han Solo and Chewbacca.

Don’t get him wrong, when he heard Leia and Luke were regressors he was more than accepting. Little did he know he and Chewie would be roped into being their Caregivers.

Most of the time it was fine. Han would never admit it but he even liked being a Caregiver to the two twin troublemakers. He loved to cuddle them, chase them around, and all around have fun.

But it was days like today that tested his patience.

The house they got was just the perfect fit for their small family. They lived in a tall apartment style building but each floor was built as a one whole apartment. Han, Luke, Leia and Chewie lived in the 14th floor. The whole level belonged to them which was perfect for two rambunctious Littles who loved to run around.

But all around their house something was missing…or should we say someone was missing.

Luke was missing. Missing!! How horrible of a Caregiver does Han have to be to misplace a Little?!

He had his back turned for a second while he was making them a snack before the Little had disappeared somewhere in their new house.

Now he was turning the place upside down looking for him. What doesn’t help is that he has both Leia and Chewie arguing with him about it.

“Arrrrrhhhh.” Chewie roared as he walked back into the room.

“I told you I already checked there.”

“Arrrrrrrrrrh.”

“You don’t have to double check me! If I checked there I’m pretty sure I would know if Luke was there or not.”

“Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrhhhh.”

“Chewie your guess is as best as mine.” Han said with a sarcastic shrug. “Could you check the balcony outside my bedroom?”

Chewie nodded his head before leaving. “Thank you.” Han said more to himself.

Leia ran into the room and over to Han. “Han! Han! Notice anything different about me?” She smiled.

Han was in a bit of a frazzled state, so when he looked at Leia he really didn’t notice anything immediately. “I don’t know sweetheart. What is different about you?” He asked while still searching for Luke.

Leia followed him but she was not happy, “You don’t see it?” She crossed her arms.

“See what princess?” Han said before he stopped and looked at Leia. That’s when he noticed it, her hair was in a different style.

��Ohhhhh you redid your hair today. It looks beautiful.”

Leia stomped her foot, “You didn’t notice it right away! You didn’t! It’s a terrible style then! You never notice anything about me!”

Han sighed for about the 50th time that day, “Princess it’s not that I didn’t notice your hair style it’s just that I’m a little preoccupied trying to find your little brother. Have you seen him?”

She uncrossed her arms and looked down, “He told me not to tell you…” she trailed off saying.

Han walked over and took her hands in his, “Princess, I need to know where Luke is for his own safety. I know he’s a Jedi and is perfectly capable of taking anything on but he’s not feeling too big now is he?”

Leia shook her head no. Han continued, “I know he told you not to tell me but I’m worried about him, just like I would be worried about you if you were missing. So could you please help me find your little brother so I can make sure he’s okay?” Han asked in a soft tone.

He knew the way to Leia’s heart both as her partner and her Caregiver. She didn’t like to be challenged or yelled at. She responded well to patience and a soft spoken voice.

She looked at him with worried eyes, “Promise you won’t tell him I told you?”

Han smiled and held his pinky out, “I promise.”

With their pinky wrapped around each others Leia explained, “He went downstairs to the playground outside the building. He couldn’t find his Bantha stuffie and he thought he might’ve left it there.”

Suddenly it all clicked into Han’s mind. Earlier the four had gone down to the playground to burn off some of that morning energy the twins always had. The place ground is nice and convenient for Han and Chewie, just outside of their building.

Luke, being the younger twin, has the youngest headspace. He never goes anywhere without his Bantha stuffie. When he’s regressed he always has it close. It’s like a security blanket for him.

Their trip to the playground ended with Han carrying a sleepy Luke and Chewie holding Leia hand. Then it was a nice long nap for the two of them. Maybe Han and Chewie didn’t notice Luke was missing his stuffie when they got back.

Just as it clicked in Han’s brain Chewie entered the living room. “Chewie can you watch Leia for me? I think I know where Luke is.”Chewie roared in agreement.

Han kissed Leia forehead. “Thank you for helping me princess. I’ll be right back with your brother.” Han rushed to grab his keycard and left the house.

As Han exited, Leia walked over to Chewie. “Can you braid my hair?”

Chewie smiled and roared. He put his hand out to Leia to take. The two happily walked off to the couch.

~~~

Han took the elevator down to the ground level and immediately made his way to the outdoor playground. Sure enough there was the missing Little, sitting in the sandbox playing with his Bantha.

Han sighed, this time in relief. At least the kid was okay. But he was not happy about this disappearing act. He walked over to the sandbox and stood infront of Luke with his hands on his hips.

Luke looked up at Han and smiled, happy to see the Caregiver. “ ‘an! Look! Banthie! Found her!” He happily held up his stuffie for his Caregiver to see.

“I’m happy to see that Luke. But what’s one of our biggest rules?”

Luke hugged his Bantha and thought about it for a moment, “No lightsabers when I feels little.”

“Yes, but also…” Han led on.

“Not to go anywhere without you….or Chewie.” Luke added, this time a lot softer. His eyes casted down.

“That’s right. You know how worried I’ve been looking for you? I practically turned the house upside trying to find you. What if something happened? What if the Empire found you?”

Luke didn’t lift his eye back up to meet Han’s. Instead he kept them down as he started to cry. “I sworry ‘an!”

“Aw, kid. Listen, it’s alright now. I found you, you’re alright and now nothing is going to happen to you. I’m here, Han is here.” Han was just about to step into the sandbox to comfort Luke when…

Luke, who was too upset to really know his strength with the force, pulled Han down to sit in the sandbox with him. Han was caught off guard and fell backwards onto the sand.

The two just paused in shock. Luke looked worried that Han was going to be even more mad. But Han was just laughing as he pulled himself up from the sand.

“Kid if you had given me a second,” he laughed, “I was coming to give you a hug.” He sat back in the sandbox and opened his arms to which Luke immediately climbed into.

Han pulled the little Jedi into a tight hug. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he would been devastated if something ever happen to Luke, especially regressed.

“Don’t do that again to me okay kid? If you lost something or you need to go somewhere you come find me. Okay? I don’t know what I would do without you little troublemaker.”

Luke nodded, nuzzling his head against Han’s shoulder. “Sowry gain ‘an.” Luke mumbled.

Han rubbed his back, “It’s okay kid. All is forgiven.”

After a moment Han broke them apart, standing from the toy box to brush the sand off himself. “Come on little star, let’s go back home.” He said holding his hand out for Luke to take.

Luke smiled and stood up, taking Han’s hand in his own. As they started to walk towards the building Luke started to lean against Han’s arm, his thumb getting close to his mouth.

Han quickly stopped that, seeing that the Little was covered in sand. “No, no, no, kid that wouldn’t taste very good. We’ll get changed when we get back home and I’ll get you something better.”

Luke looked at his hand, as if he was seeing his sand covered hands for the first time. He whined but nodded.

Han chucked, “We haven’t been this covered in sand since Tatooine.”

Luke smiled and giggled, “Yeah!”

“I remember the last sand storm? Wasn’t that crazy? Chewie was getting sand out of his hair for weeks after it.“ Han over exaggerated. Luke was giggling like crazy.

~~~

Meanwhile Chewie and Leia were having a peaceful afternoon together without the other boys. Chewie happened to be a fantastic hair braider, making Leia a beautiful new hairstylist.

Then after she got a new hairstyle, she returned the favor and decorated Chewbacca’s hair with beautiful hair clips and ties.

When Luke and Han returned, they barley noticed through their fun hairstyle day.

“We’re back,” Han called out. “We’re going to get changed but then we’ll join you guys.”

Chewbacca roared in acknowledgment but basically said “take you time” in Wookiee.

Han helped Luke out of his sand covered clothes and into some softer comfy clothes for the rest of the evening in. Then he helped brush the sand from his and even his stuffie’s hair.

Then once the boy was sand free, he gave him his pacifier. “There we go. Much better than a sandy thumb.” Han winked with a smirk. Luke just nodded with tired eyes. Today had been a big day for the little Jedi.

Despite Han’s back protesting, he couldn’t help but pick up the tired Jedi and carry him out to the living room, cuddling him close.

“Princess! Wow! You look amazing!” Leia lit up seeing Han make a big deal out of her as he entered the room. He sat on the couch beside her, Luke in his lap.

“Thank you! Chewie did it for me! And I did his hair. See?” She pointed out.

Han turned and tried to hold back his laughter seeing Chewbacca all dazzled up. “Chewie…you’ve never looked better pal.” Han said, covering his laughter behind a cough.

Chewie shook his head and said something is Wookiee.

But Karma did come back for Han, because Luke crawled out of his arms and into Chewbacca’s. Chewie gave Han a look that he rolled his eyes back to.

“Han! I’ll do your hair next!” Leia grabbed her box of hair accessories.

“I don’t know if I can pull it off Leia.” Han said a bit unsure if he wanted the same hair treatment as Chewie.

But Leia knew the system and she knew it well. With her best puppy dog eyes, “Please!!!”

Han was a sucker for it every time. “Fine, one or two can’t hurt.”

Chewie started to laugh to himself.

“Laugh it up fuzz ball.” Han said as Leia put the pink sparkling heart clip in his hair. He wrapped his arm around her and she dug around her bay for the next clip.

[the-kr8tor]

heheh angst time- and yes, I did mean I got my ass whooped yesterday aha Daily Hobie HC! I feel like one of his worst fears is having to fight you. Allow me to set up the mood >:) Imagine that you've been taken away from him while Hobie was on a mission. Gone, missing. His guts twist at the sight of your empty side of the bed, tears welling as he constantly has to face the fact he lost you. Then all of a sudden- you're back. As soon as he sees you again, coming through the door, Hobie immediately runs towards you, hugging you, murmuring about how he loves you, how he'll never let you go, how he missed you so much. Time passes, and something's off. Your hugs were cold instead of warm, and your hands were tentative against his skin. Your nails dragging against his skin stung more than it soothed. Even your smile seemed too sweet to be true, with your wide eyes and the eerie, subtle shakes of your pupil. Even the colors of your eyes seemed different, as if it were mixed with a singular drop of another completely opposite color. You've given him multiple scares in the night, with how you seemed to 'get water', and have him wake up to you staring at him. Hobie no longer even wakes up to your warm smile or teasing morning kisses. Instead, it's cold, as you simply just get out of bed and get ready, like you weren't with him at all. He gives you the benefit of the doubt, thinking that maybe something happened while you went missing for you to act oddly, and that you just need space. However, all changes when, as swinging around as Spider-Man on his patrols, you attack, managing to cut him out of the air and crashing into the ground with a swift throw of a knife. Your pupils are entirely glowing an eerie gold, a toothy smile stretching itself on your face. Struck with fear, he tries to swing away, but you simply just keep toying with him. Hobie doesn't understand what had happened, even trying to get close at one point but now blood seeps from his chest. The entire scene he refused to fight you, not wanting to hurt you, even if you seemed to intent on killing you. He knows it's not you. You would never act like this. Whatever was happening wasn't on your behalf. Even as you finally grab ahold of him, thrashing him into every hard surface you could, winding him multiple times as the multitude of bruises and cuts send jolts down his spine. He still doesn't fight back, instead just struggling to try and escape. Even as he knows it's the end. Seeing the shining weapon raised above your head, directed straight to his heart, he doesn't fight back. He's too exhausted. Too pained. Too..in love. "I love you, my lil birdie. An' I will keep lovin' you in every universe." (My sad attempt at a cockney accent please forgive me) "Hobes..hey, Hobieee...Hobart Larry Brown! Wake up!" Aaaanywaysss...you're way too kind, I don't think I could write a fully cyberpunk motorbike au fic.. I could try though maybe- not sure if I'd be able to do R- I may just put my sona but we'll see! Also Katy, what do you think about 'Red Spiders', for Hobie's team?:) -🐦‍⬛

No!! Who do I have to beat up?!! I'm ready to throw hands

DAILY HOBIE HC!!! Get your daily hc here!

AHHHHH CAME BACK WRONG TROPE!! YEEESSS!!!

Hmmm you got me theorizing what happened to them 🤔

Him not fighting back 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

OH THANK GOD IT'S JUST A DREAM!

Oooohh I love how red spiders are now a thing!!

[fillinforlater]

Monday of Appreciation: Part 75

Hello everyone, Smite here!

It's been a crazy, hectic week for me, but that won't stop me from presenting you the best of the best. Holy cow, there are soooo many writers with so much talent. Some of them have not yet been featured... until today! Happy MoA debut to the new ones! I hope you all continue to do well and write better with every story.

Important update at the end.

Let's get to new and old greats!

-1-

@svndaysaweek: Aftermath ft. Kazuha

The beautiful nature of science!

This fic kinda makes me angry, with how obnoxious it is with making you study while reading smut. No but in all honesty, i loved the creativity and how it just comes out of nowhere and makes perfect sense. That's the kinda stuff that has me excited about new things.

-2-

@usedpidemo: Radiance ft. Chaehyun

Ah, yes! The dress that made our minds go:

gignononbuksdflauvlizbaubalivalibuvliabvlinvjabvliablivb

or something like that lol. Good to see that such an excellent cutie like Pi also got affected by it. This fic is a breeze to read and yup, basically everything you expect happens here. Tit sucking ftw!

-3-

@tothosewhoyearnforit: surf's up pt. 1 ft. Kazuha, Minju

(ayo, your masterlist doesn't seem to work, or atleast the link in your bio)

The star wars joke in the beginning? Yes, that definitely made me stay (as well as the fact that this is Minju and Kazuha???!??). Fantastic pairing, very blunt smut that is all the better cuz they are not doing it in the fucking sand.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate sand? Now you know it lol

-4-

@aaaaafro: Soft Japanese Pillows ft. Rei

Something about the teasing nature of this works so perfectly. Yes, I'm gonna buy the damn pillow, can I pleeeease get to your pillows, miss? Btw, Rei hella underrated! I want her to press her round thighs and tits all over my body ffs. Thank you for this fic, frosche!

Also her cheeks are so cuuuute ahhhhh

Update:

Today made me realize that things will be hard to balance. Work and writing, work and daily necessities, work and studying, work and other hobbies, work and family/friends, work and life... yeah, work is now a big part of my life (again) and this will most likely hinder me from releasing smuts and other stories at this quick pace I had before.

What once was like 1-2 smuts per week, will now quickly become 1 per 2 weeks... maybe even slower, especially for bigger projects. I hope you all can understand this. I hate to slow down my progress, especially right before such a big celebration. It's just gonna be hard.

Sadly, I also lost this insane drive I had during my time studying for the exams. I pumped out so many words, multiple fics, and now looking at these docs is tough.

Anyways, I hope you can understand this and remain patiently for new fics. This is NOT a hiatus announcement. Smutty thoughts always linger somewhere in my mind. But if I take longer to put something out, don't be shocked.

Love you alll! Bye :)

[starry-mist]

S6e15 thoughts:

Ahhhhh the anniversary, and the implied night of hot loving. Something I’ve considered though, is that Charlie says “it’s our anniversary” vs “it was our anniversary” yet they went out (or stayed in) to celebrate the night before. In my mind this could possibly mean that there were additional anniversary plans that got interrupted by Charlie being tapped to guard Fulford that night. That’s just an alternate take to explain his cringe face when she asks him to come back to the hotel. It’s more likely that he just wanted to be out investigating rather than on bodyguard duty, but the alternative might make its way into a fic.

Looks like they blew the remainder of the season’s budget on the explosion.

Quidi Vidi is pretty and that rhymes.

“You were set to announce your candidacy” Are Americans writing this show? Because that’s not how our political system works. Our system is actually quite boring, tbh.

Sarah the profiler finally makes a reappearance. Remember how that was meant to be a thing, and how it went absolutely nowhere, because this was the season of no story arcs?

S1 Jesse makes a brief appearance with the time travel subplot before Detective Mills remembers that he’s now a mature professional. Here for it.

I most definitely didn’t have a good suspect list the first time around. They kept me guessing on this one.

Continuing the thread of “that’s not how the Canadian political system works: Mr Campaign Manager Guy wanting to be Chief of Staff to the PM as if that’s some kind of prestigious thing…yeah, no, this isn’t Veep.

I caught more of the snippets of the story that led time-travelling guy (sorry, I’m not looking up names) to his conclusions on the second watch. I actually missed so many details the first time around. There was a lot going on in this episode.

Oh Charlie. Your poor noggin.

It initially felt like an odd choice to leave Charlie with his phone but then it made sense that the bomber half-assed the communications system the way she half-assed her assassination plot.

Okay another detail I missed was that rehabbed addict guy’s brother-in-law was apparently the one who helped his mother get the explosives.

Ohhhhh the looks on Charlie’s and Sarah’s faces when she walks in and sees the vest on him. So good.

Bomber “Does she want to stay?”

Charlie “No”

Sarah “Yes”

I’m sure there was other plot stuff happening past this point but apparently I short-circuited once Charah were together with the bomb.

The unbroken eye contact between Sarah and Charlie…*sighs happily* John and Mayko play off each other so well.

I really wish we’d gotten the scene with the bomb being taken off Charlie. Don’t worry, it’ll make its way into a fic.

Anyway yeah, this was clearly meant to be the season finale, so I’m not expecting a ton next week, but as I’ve already said, I’m satisfied.

Now give us another season so we can get the resolution of the “not yet.”

[actuallysaiyan]

Hello! I really love your JJK content I was wondering, do you have any blogs you recommend that also write JJK content? 🥰 Thanks a million

AHHHHH THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH 🥰🥰 That's so sweet of you to say!

Okay so my recommendations for JJK writers(or at least those who have written some of my favorite JJK content)

@seireiteihellbutterfly who is such a sweetheart and writes Nanami so fucking well 🥺 I still think about her bridal shop fic at least once a week!

@whatshernameis has some really good content and a super interesting and intriguing fic started that I swear I need to read chapter 2 omg but alsoooo her drabbles are so fucking great 🥺 can't wait to see what else you put out there! Also a super sweetie pie!

@beneathstarryskies if y'all aren't reading her JJK content, y'all are missing out. Singlehandedly is the best Nanami writer even if she doesn't wanna believe it. I think she writes him so well because she knows just how much I love him 🤭🤭🤭

@carnal-lnstinct has some really amazing Toji content 🥺 the fic with Megumi and the reader mommy telling him the story just touches me so much! Also is responsible for the work husband Nanami fic btw 😉😏 so you gotta go check out their work because they are talented AF

@starsinmylatte has some super awesome Nanami fics! I haven't read all of them yet, but damn is sooooo talented! Also super amazing and so sweet 🥺

@delirious-donna has some AMAZING Nanami content. Your best friend's brother is such a fucking great series! ❤️❤️ Super kind as well, she makes you feel so welcome

@dreadsuitsamus who is a fucking amazing writer and has written some of the best content out there for real! I don't even have the words to describe them

If I'm missing anyone else, please forgive me 🥺🥺 if anyone wants to shout out other blogs in the comments, feel free!!