#anyways i just like. had that drawing ready a week or three already

[ribbononline]

Little timeskip Shauna design because I care her. deeply. She runs a little hair salon in Lumiose city

[katnipp]

cheer me up, captain— daniela avanzini

genre: fluff👅

synopsis: nerdy y/n and cheer captain daniela are forced to team up for spirit week—chaos, glitter, and unexpected feelings ensue

warnings: none that i could think of except for the fact that they hate each other at first😞

quick a/n: i decided to just post this already instead of waiting for all the results from the poll😭

—

y/n never planned to go to war with the cheerleading team. especially not with daniela avanzini, the captain with perfect eyeliner and a permanent smirk that screamed “i know i’m hot.”

but fate—or the school admin, who clearly lived for chaos—had other plans.

it all started in the gym. science club was setting up for the annual “physics in action” demo. y/n had carefully carted in her baking soda volcano, a newton’s cradle, and a very fragile egg-drop apparatus. she had graphs. she had goggles. she was ready.

then the gym doors slammed open, and in walked the cheer squad like they owned the place. at the front: daniela.

“this is our space,” y/n said, clutching her clipboard.

daniela blinked. “actually? it’s tuesday. we have the gym every tuesday for practice.”

y/n glanced at her schedule. her eyes widened.

“don’t tell me,” daniela said, leaning in with mock sympathy. “you scheduled a whole demo without checking the calendar?”

“i—no—i checked, i just—”

“you messed up.” daniela smirked. “admit it. i’ll wait.”

y/n wanted to launch herself into the volcano in that very moment.

instead, she muttered, “fine. we’ll leave.”

“oh no,” daniela said sweetly. “stay. maybe your stupid volcano can cheer us on.”

and that was war.

—

for the next two weeks, y/n and daniela couldn’t share air without snapping at each other. y/n called daniela’s routines “pom pom brainwashing.” daniela called y/n “the lovechild of nasa and a graphing calculator.”

then came the announcement.

principal kim, barely awake, droned on over the intercom:

“as part of our new school unity initiative, clubs will be randomly paired for spirit week…”

y/n sprinted to the list posted outside the office.

science club + cheer team

“oh,” she said. “you’ve actually got to be kidding me.”

behind her, that unmistakable voice purred: “miss me already?”

y/n turned slowly. daniela was standing there, sipping iced coffee with the grin of someone who definitely caused problems on purpose.

“no,” y/n said flatly. “i’d rather be trampled by the football team.”

daniela raised an eyebrow. “feisty. let’s schedule our team meeting.”

—

day one: poster prep night

y/n showed up with rulers, blueprints, and her fear of daniela.

daniela showed up with glitter glue, rhinestones, and a playlist titled “world domination.”

“let’s split the posters evenly,” y/n suggested.

“sure,” daniela said, already bedazzling a drawing of einstein.

they argued over fonts, color schemes, the ethics of glitter…

at some point, daniela reached over and tucked a piece of y/n’s hair behind her ear.

y/n’s entire body and mind froze.

“you good?” daniela asked, voice low.

“yeah,” Y/N choked. “just allergic to sparkles.”

daniela smiled. “cute.”

—

day three: bake sale disaster

daniela’s cupcakes were literal pieces of art. while y/n’s cookies looked like a child had decorated them.

“baking is just edible chemistry,” y/nmuttered.

“you have betrayed science,” daniela replied, deadpan.

but she helped decorate y/n’s sad excuses of cookies (if you could call it that..) anyways. dusted them with glitter. drew tiny hearts in frosting.

“you’re being suspiciously nice,” y/n said.

“i’m not nice. i’m charming.”

“i suddenly hate you even more”

—

day four: pep rally prep

“absolutely not,” y/n said, staring at the cheer uniform daniela tossed at her.

“you agreed to participate,” daniela reminded, grinning.

“you didn’t say i’d be in costume.”

“you’ll look adorable. i promise.”

somehow, y/n ended up in a cheer bow, safety goggles, and an oversized squad hoodie. daniela tied the bow herself.

“you look kind of cute,” she said softly.

y/n turned, flushed. “is that a cheerleading thing or a flirting thing?”

daniela tilted her head. “yes.”

—

day five: the pep rally

the gym was packed. the lights were blinding. y/n stood at half-court, nerves fizzing.

they performed a cheer-science mashup. y/n shouted fun facts while daniela flipped through the air like gravity was a suggestion.

the crowd roared.

after the final trick, y/n turned to her with a grin.

“we actually did it.”

daniela stepped closer. “told you i’d make a cheerleader out of you.”

“you’re terrifying.”

“and you’re obsessed with me.”

y/n opened her mouth to argue—but daniela kissed her.

it was dizzy and stupid and so much better than y/n’s wildest theories.

when they pulled apart, breathless, y/n stammered, “so is this like, a thing now?”

daniela smirked. “it’s been a thing. you’re just very slow.”

—

y/n was sitting with her science club friends when daniela strutted over in full uniform, plopped into her lap, and whispered, “you’re late for practice, loser.”

y/n blinked. “i’m not even on the team, dani.”

“you’re mine. close enough.”

y/n’s brain short-circuited.

her friends all screamed.

daniela winked. “team bonding, right?”

—

a/n: this fic was kinda doodoo compared to the other ones☹️

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!more female wei wuxian please

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

If Jiang Cheng is captured or killed, they'll kill Madame Yu and Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is an heir, but not one that can lead their people into battle, and they won’t bother keeping hostages for her benefit.

Wei Wuxian could do it – but with Jiang Cheng gone, she loses her place in the clan, she can't become the wife of their future sect leader if he’s dead. She’s the logical one to lose.

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her. But they’re getting too close to the inn.

She pays a boy to take the medicine and a note back to them in an hour’s time, then whistles, clear and bright cutting through the crowd. The Wen soldiers look at her and she’s hungry and tired but this is her clan’s life on the line here, her sister’s, her fiance’s. “Looking for me?”

There’ a moment of stillness then they’re surging forward and she’s running and they’re chasing and she’s very, very good but they’re fresh. She needs to go someplace they won’t follow.

They’re not too far from Yiling, she thinks.

~

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her.

He wants to go after her, but he doesn’t even know where she is, and that would mean leaving A-jie defenseless on her own, which he can’t do, and Wei Wuxian would never forgive him for doing anyway.

They set a punishing pace to Jin territory, which is where the disciples were instructed to meet up with them. A bit of gamble, but Wei Wuxian had pointed out that Jin Guangshan would likely be playing both sides of the war to his advantage, which is as close to neutral territory as they were going to get.

Once he delivers A-jie to the rest of their disciples, he can leave them to protect her and can leave her to organize them and he can go after Wei Wuxian. He thinks that three hostages is probably one too many – two too many, really, and he wonders how long it will be before his mother’s mouth gets her killed. If they do put her and Wei Wuxian together, that would move up that timetable exponentially.

Part of him is scared Wei Wuxian’s already dead. The rest of him knows better.

If she were dead, the Wen would be flaunting and bragging about. If they’d killed her, they’d be using it to draw him out, but so far there’s been nothing.

Of course, she ruins his plans like always because just when he’s getting ready to go out searching, she appears in the camp and grabs his shoulders and says, “You’ll never guess what I figured out!”

She’s been missing for almost three weeks and just as soon as he feels like he can breathe again he’s going to strangle her. “You!” he hisses and then he’s grabbing her, yanking her into his chest and holding her so tightly that she probably can’t breathe either, although for a different reason.

She’s hugging him back just as tightly, which makes him feel slightly less like he’s losing his mind. He pulls back and she’s wearing robes that she definitely stole and – “Why do you have a flute?”

Wei Wuxian beams, rocking back on her heels.

Most of Jiang Cheng’s relief drains to wariness.

That expression on her face has never meant anything good.

[ssentimentals]

f1 pairings as famous love tropes: charles leclerc x carlos sainz

love at first sight (fashion designer!AU)

'birds started singing and heaven fell down upon us the moment my eyes landed on you'

charles is panicking. he is also frustrated, but as of right now panic holds a bigger proportion in the overall share of his feelings. he is late and charles leclerc is never late. all final sketches for his spring-summer collection are ready except one final piece, the grand finale as charles likes to call it. frustration gnaws at his mind because whole collection apart from that final piece was ready and done in the first week - his short vacation in spain inspired him more than he would've thought. he locked himself up in his studio and let beauty come out of the drawings and god, he's never been prouder. every single piece of this collection reminds him of a gentle breeze, warm sea waves, pastel colored flowers on the beach. it's beautiful, it's wonderful and it's incomplete. charles might just kill someone.

loud groan makes everyone look up and he hastily throws last three sketches into the bin, wanting to set the whole thing on fire. clock on the wall almost mocks him, reminds him that he has only five hours left but five hours are not enough for perfection to be created and charles refuses to settle for anything less than perfect.

'go home, everyone.' charles announces, trying to keep anger out of his voice. it's no one's fault but his that collection is unfinished, anyway. 'you can finish your work tomorrow.'

at first no one moves, but when charles pointedly goes back to drawing ignoring everyone, his workers quickly free his studio, flocking one by one until only pierre stays. 'i decided that you could use some inspiration,' he starts, coming closer. 'so i invited several models to stop by.'

charles scoffs, not looking up. 'stupid idea. faces do not inspire me.'

'but those are models! you'll have to make a fitting check on some anways.' pierre tries. 'just be nice, yeah? i'll leave now, but like five of them should come now and oh, i prepared all the docs for the guy from audit, he should also be here shortly.' pierre reaches out and squeezes charles's shoulder lovingly. 'don't stress, calamar. you got this.'

'i don't.' charles cuts out, sighing. 'just go and don't forget to bring me something for dinner.'

pierre scoffs and mutters something about being used but charles is already focused on the drawing. twirling pencil with his fingers, he tries to imagine which look would fit the most for closing the show. his head is usually full of ideas but right now it's empty and only irrelevant memories from vacation spring up, carrying nothing helpful to his case. it's like he used up all of his creativity, which in itself is a very depressing thought; charles thinks it's time to add desperation to his mix of feelings. his eyes move from one sketch to another over and over again, hoping that answer is somewhere there. what is it that he's missing? which piece, which color combination, which-

'um, pardon? i came to-'

'what?!' charles barks out loudly at the interruption. fuck, he was getting somewhere, who dared to interrupt him now? 'what-'

oh. charles blinks at the sight of a tall man in front of him. he blinks again for good measure, just to make sure that his eyes are not playing tricks with him because he had too much caffeine. man in front of him looks like he stepped out of some editorial magazine with his stylishly combed dark hair and big brown eyes. charles is not a stranger to pretty faces; being a fashion designer somehow made him immune to shiny outer appereance of models and celebrities. his breath doesn't get knocked down, his pulse doesn't thrum and his heart doesn't beat faster from an objectively attractive face. it never did, anyway. until right now.

charles takes two steps closer, needing to inspect further. gorgeous tanned skin, plush lips, strong nose, thick neck. there's a bit of stubble on his jawline, which only accentuates how sharp it is. simple blue linen shirt hugs him nicely, stretches over his broad shoulders and only makes his skin tone look even more alluring with the contrast of light color on a tanned body. first two buttons undone are enough to make him look less formal but still not overly casual; peak of collarbones doesn't go unnoticed either. tucked in a fitted pair of straight jeans that make his legs look like they stretch for miles, hugging his thighs just a little to tease the shape - this man looks like -

'god,' charles whispers, awe unhidden in his voice. 'my god.'

perfect dark eyebrow rises up at this. 'i came for-'

'pierre told me,' charles interrupts, stepping even closer. 'you just need to stay here and not move, okay? just don't move.'

charles rushes back, grabs his sketchbook and starts working. 'what's your name?' he asks absentmindedly, chewing on his pencil.

'carlos.' thick accent sips through the cracks.

'perfect,' charles whispers, not looking up. 'absolutely perfect.'

carlos looks like sea. like when you stare at it and in the distance it's almost glowing from the sunlight reflected on it. carlos looks like lazy sunday afternoon, when you have nothing to do and nowhere to be, when your own company is your sole entertainment and that is enough. carlos looks like he is number one. it's in the way he is obviously sun's favorite boy from the way his skin is sunkissed all over; it's in the way god took it's time to make him the way he is to show people that perfection exists. carlos looks soft. his hair, his lips, his eyes - all is soft. god, especially his eyes. charles pauses and looks up, breath hitching at the way carlos is already looking back at him. non artistic people would've called those eyes 'doe eyes' or 'bambi eyes' but thankfully charles is an artist and he knows what those eyes really are. they are love. they are expressive even when their owner stays silent, they are talking and the stories they tell send a thrill down charles's spine. he feels it all - the breath knocked out, pulse thrumming, heart beating twice as fast thing. he stares like a masochist because it's painful to stare, charles doesn't think he should have a right to do so for free, but looking away feels criminal. carlos stares back, anyway. he doesn't say anything and he doesn't have to, his eyes talk for him. they are curious, swimming with possibilities and questions - charles wants to answer them all, wants to grab him by the hand and tell him that everything is possible, he will make it become possible for him.

'where are you from?' charles breaks the silence, looking down at his sketch and continuing his work.

'spain. madrid, specifically.'

god, of course this embodiement of a sun is from spain, from a region where sun shines with all the love and gentleness on its' people. it's so fitting, too. charles can easily picture carlos there, can see how he'll fight right in with all the incredible architecture and colorful nature and- that's it. that's the key. his final piece. charles works without breathing, overtaken by his vision - a modern piece, the kind which looks good for a stroll on the bustling madrid street and fits a nice time in nature. a perfect balance, one that attracts attention not because it's loud but because it's so confident. like carlos. huh, so much for 'faces do not inspire me'.

'from which agency you are?' charles asks, moving to another sketch. he needs to check angles but now that he's got an idea, everything else will come to him easier. 'you can start stripping now, i'll do the color check. i think terracota will look amazing on you, let me check if we have any samples left.'

he stands up to go check fabrics but stops, when carlos just stares back at him, unmoving. he opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, when someone knocks and several guys enter one by one. 'hello,' one of them starts. 'we are here for fit check. pierre sent us.'

charles frowns. charles is also not stupid so he connects dots quickly enough to realize that carlos is- 'you are the audit guy,' he breathes out and carlos offers a small smile in response. 'holy shit.'

'i'm flattered you thought that i am one of those guys,' carlos tilts his head to the side of newcomers. 'they are models, no?' charles nods and he chuckles, shaking his head. 'nice. thanks, i guess.'

'i'm so sorry,' charles mutters, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. god, blush doesn't suit him, can he not blush right now?

'you caught me off guard there with your stripping part,' carlos comments and his voice is so smooth and melodic, charles never wants him to stop talking. 'i was going to say that you could've at least asked me out to dinner first.'

charles stares at carlos with eyebrows pushed up his hairline. what is happening right now? throat clearance from waiting guys brings him out of his thoughts though and he quickly asks them to wait outside for few minutes, needing to stay alone with carlos. he finds docs that pierre left for him and comes closer, holding them tightly. this close scent of carlos's cologne makes his head spin a little: it's a wave of ocean at first but with a twist of something sweeter, darker, which pulls you in. charles feels like he's about to drown.

'those are for me?' carlos asks, pointing at the docs. 'from pierre, right?'

charles nods and doesn't make a move to hand them to carlos. carlos is also not taking them and they are stuck at this staring contest, which is ridiculous but how can charles let him go? his muse, his final piece? 'you are it,' he lets out, holding eye contact with carlos, which is not an easy thing when having carlos's eyes on him feels electric. 'my- i needed my final piece. i have it now, i know how it'll look. i drew it just now, you are-'

'can i see?' carlos interrupts.

charles doesn't show his unfinished sketches to anyone. he also doesn't fall head over heels for guys from audit but this day is full of firsts, apparently. carlos stands by his side when charles hands him his sketchbook and the way his eyes trace every single detail of the lines make charles feel giddy. he waits impatiently, practically buzzing with energy by the time carlos returns him the sketchbook.

'it's beautiful,' he says and his tone is different. it's softer than before, filled with honey, honesty and promise. 'very, very pretty.'

charles almost says something idiotic like not as pretty as you but thankfully he still has head to mouth filter. he bites his lower lip and feels a surge of power in the way carlos immediately looks down, the way those eyes instantly zero on this action. his eyes are always talking even when he doesn't; his eyes are love and right now charles's own hunger is reflected in them. kiss me charles want to whisper. you can take me right now and i will succumb to you the way artists succumb to their muses, wholeheartedly and inevitably.

'what's your name?' carlos asks and if there's a slight drop in his voice, none of them mention it.

'charles.' his own name feels foreign on his tongue. 'leclerc.'

carlos hums, tracing lovingly charles's face with his eyes. 'leave those docs here, charles. i need an excuse to come here again.'

there's no way that carlos doesn't hear loud beating of his heart. heat blooms in the short space between them and charles wants. god, how much he wants. he nods, not trusting his voice not to crack if he speaks.

'i will come tomorrow,' carlos says and there it is, the promise that charles heard so clearly in his tone. 'when you will not have five handsome models waiting to strip for you. when will that be?'

'come today,' charles lets out, not caring if he's acting desperate. 'after eight.'

carlos doesn't seem to think that he's desperate. fire in his eyes ignites and oh, he wants, too. he looks at charles like he wants to forget that he's on work and that there are people waiting for him outside of the door; he looks at charles like charles wants him to look at him. oh, this is wonderful.

'after eight.' carlos agrees and it's a promise again. sweet like honey.

charles stays under some spell for few minutes after carlos is gone and it takes a loud 'shall we start?' from a model to kickstart his brain again. he quickly fishes out his phone and sends pierre text message: 'audit guy dropped by. final piece is ready. do not come to bring me dinner, do not come at all' and takes a deep breath. time to work.

a/n: my love ode for carlos and his eyes is done, please take it and hold it with care :') come to my inbox with suggestions of which other pairings i should write for! - nini

my other formula 1 writings are here

my seventeen writings are here

[bunsreverie]

Feng Xun/Reader (Coffee Shop AU!)

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The air was crisp and cool, and the atmosphere of the coffee shop was quiet. It was a rather slow day, and so you were about to go on break for a while- until you saw him.

Your favorite regular customer, Feng Xun. He would come around maybe three times a week and would order the same drinks as always- either a matcha latte or caramel latte. He always smiled at you- and you always smiled at him when you saw him walking through the cafe’s doors. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but you were drawn to him. He was incredibly handsome, sweet, and calm. You had to admit it was hard not to be smitten by him.

Honestly, sometimes you felt like a total creep, because you always anticipated seeing him every day you worked. When you heard the door’s bells chime and you looked up, if it wasn’t him, you could feel your heart sink. Never mind that though, because he was here, in front of you now. You greeted him with a chipper tone and a friendly smile.

“Good afternoon, Feng! The usual?” You tried to act calm, but internally your mind was racing at just the sight of him. He replied, “Yes please, a matcha latte.” He paid for his drink, and seeing as there were no other customers, the two of you made small talk while you made his latte. “Slow day today, huh?” He looks around the cafe and sits down in a nearby seat. It was a small, quaint little cafe that didn’t get a whole lot of business- an easy job for you. You nod and finish up with his drink. “Yeah.. we’re usually not that busy anyways-“

You finished his drink and handed it to him with a grin. “Thank you.. Y/N.” His eyes drifted to your name tag before he said your name. You felt a bit giddy when he said it, and you found yourself getting lost in thoughts about him. “No problem. Have a great day, please come back!” You had half expected him to walk out with his drink, but he didn’t. Feng Xun returned to his seat and kept his eyes on you as he took a sip of his iced latte.

“Hmm.. nobody can make a latte as good as you can, you know? Could you always make my drinks from now on?” He asked, and your face reddened a little. Was he flirting with you? Or just being kind? Forget it, there’s no way this guy could be interested- you hardly knew him. You laughed somewhat nervously. It was kind of hard not to be nervous when you’re alone with the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen, and he’s complimenting your work. “I-I’m flattered, do you really think so? I wouldn’t mind at all, being the one to make your drinks.”

“Of course, I think so.”

His presence was a somewhat awkward, yet also comfortable silence for the most part. You had your eyes on him for quite a long time, and now he was making it seem that he might be a little interested too? He continued making small talk, while you tidied up the counter and watched him, listened to him. Something you noticed, was the way his pupils would dilate when he spoke of something he liked. You found it adorable, and you had to stop yourself from saying it out loud. His two-toned eyes were beautiful; you’d stare at them all day if that wouldn’t be weird. You were enjoying his company a lot, and you found his friendliness was cutting through your anxiety, and making you more at ease.

As Feng finished up, you found yourself feeling a little sad as he got ready to leave. “I’ll be back later this week I’m sure. Have a great day, Y/N.” As he walked out, he dropped a bill into the tip jar. That was generous of him. You watched as his long black hair swayed behind him in the wind outside the glass door. You were left alone with your thoughts now, and you already wanted him to hurry up and come back.

“Damn it, Y/N, you ruined your perfect chance to ask him out.” You thought to yourself. You figured you’d try again next time.

I promise the second part will be better and longer than this SLOP idk why I feel like drawing this out and giving it multiple parts el oh el

[purple-crusader]

First of all happy Halloween!! Second of all this day is one exception from the rule I made, because all three prompts of the day just line up so perfectly that I needed to write them together. Also it's kinda funny it's the fourth day already and the first time I'm writing them as a couple 😭

Anyway hope you enjoy this one 🎃🦇

STEPHCASS WEEK Day 4: On the case + Undercover + Halloween

Word count: 1,026

@stephcassweek

Cassandra looked at herself in the mirror. The costume she was wearing was way too tight for her. Question was, was it so tight, because it's a cheap costume from a Halloween-themed store or maybe it should be this tight? She must borrow one of Selina's costumes sometime.

"I'm ready!" Steph shouted from the other room. She came into the Manor living room wearing her costume, which looked like it was from a knock-off parody show about Batman from the 60's. Cass couldn't hold a laugh when she saw her girlfriend. "What? It's a little vintage, but I feel groovy!" Cass was laughing even harder now.

"Is my girlfriend Austin Powers?" Cass said, walking closer to Steph, who couldn't take her eyes off of the dark-haired woman's Catwoman costume, way too tight. The women held hands and kissed each other. "Hell yeah, baby." Steph replied. "Now that's Kite-Man!" Cass said through her laugh.

They planned to spend their Halloween evening date at some party and after all they got to do that, with the little inclusion that they also had to catch Alberto Falcone, mobster Carmine Falcone's son, who was supposted to be present at the rave held in Iceberg Lounge after disappearing from public life for the last two months.

It was supposted to be Tim's job, but he had promised Bernard to go with him to a Halloween party of his friend's and he ditched a few of their last dates already, so he was on thin ice. Steph and Cass decided it could be fun and still count as a date for them, so they took the case. That's also why they wore those knock-off suits. They covered their faces and also did not draw any suspicion at a party where half of Gothamites would dress up as their favourite superheroes.

Alfred drove them to the place and they went inside. Cass got a little tense as they went inside. She didn't go often to city parties so she wasn't that used to giant loads of people connected with loud music and pretty bad smell. Steph took her hand and sqeezed it to ease her partner's nerves.

As they were waiting for intel about Alberto's whereabouts from Alfred, they decided to have some fun with the rest of the party-goers. They both felt a little proud everytime they saw someone wearing either of their costumes. They found four people dressed in Cassandra's Batgirl costume, three dressed in Steph's Batgirl suit and even one person in something based on the original Spoiler! Steph wouldn't shut up about it for the next few weeks.

They managed to find a table with snacks and drinks. They could not drink alcohol while on the mission, but Steph couldn't take her hands off the eclairs with little bat sprinkles.

"Look!! They have purple bats! You think it's from some set that had Spoiler-themed sweets?" Steph was enthusiastic.

"If more than three people knew Spoiler..." Cass said jokingly and smirked.

"Hey! I understand you love me, but share some of this love with Gothamites." Both women chuckled and Cass gave a peck on Steph's lips before they went to the dance floor.

They were in the middle of dancing to Eminem and Rihanna's "The Monster" when someone stumbled into Steph from behind, spilling his drink on her and knocking her down to the ground.

"Be careful how you walk, bitch!" Cass got furious when she heard the man talk like that to her girlfriend, but then she noticed who it was that said that. It was no one other than their aim, Alberto Falcone, visibly drunk already. How did this man manage to run a considerable side of the Falcone crime family's business assets was always a mystery to the vigilantes.

Cass helped Steph get off the ground and told her it was Alberto. Both women could not lose that occasion and begun spying on the man. After half an hour of stumbling on the dance floor, he was called to go to the back. Steph and Cass followed.

The women found themselves in a corridor that led to other parts of the building like kitches, magazines but also Penguin's office. Did Falcone plan something with Cobblepot? Two vigilantes went into the air vent and slowly crawled to find themselves over the man's office.

Falcone was supposted to be working on spreading a new drug in Gotham, that's the intel they gathered when investigating him for the last few weeks. It turned out Oz was also in on the plan.

"We jump down on..." Cass signed to Steph, "...3 ...2 ...1." the vigilantes dropped to the mobster's office. Alberto was too drunk to significantly react, but Oz was furious. It was risky to fight armed bodyguards in these cheap suits, but they were fast enough to not get hit and all of them were soon knocked out. In this time Penguin ran to the corridor, but Cass managed to catch him before he got to the emergency exit. Steph tied up Alberto at this time. They left them in the Lounge and sent the signal to the police to arrest them.

"That's a job done good, young madames." They heard Alfred's voice from their comms. "Would you wish to continue your fun at the city, like you have planned?"

Steph wanted to say yes, but got stopped by Cass grabbing her hand and looking at her suggestively. "Hmm... you know what Alf?" Steph begun. "We might have some other plans."

The monster growled at the poor woman who was screaming her throat out. She would soon be dead as he pulled out his claws and begun chopping her with them. The movie was intense, but it was the right amount of horror for a night like that.

Cass snuggled up to Steph, as they both sat naked under a blanket in their shared apartment. They had some snacks ready and planned to marathon bunch of low-budget crappy horrors from the 70's. It was all that the women needed to feel happy.

"Happy Halloween, Cassie." Steph said and kissed her partner.

"Happy Halloween." Cass replied and then continued their kiss.

[lost-creatures]

"Hot Cougars in your area". She'd seen the ads a hundred times before, they were probably the only motherfuckers willing to advertise on these piece of shit message boards, and most of them were just scams anyway. This time though:

Reader Discretion Advised: Eaten Alive, hard vore, snuff, vomit, musk, yuri, t4t

So I do as I'm told and walk away from my campsite in the middle of the night without telling anyone. We didn't have to go far— just some state park in the mountains above the suburbs. An arid montane scrubland echoed across the rolling surface, its reds and yellows muted to grey and blue in the winter moonlight. Three ridgelines deep into the mountains already. Just the hike to the backcountry campsite beat my ass, so my legs are screaming as I walk into the cold.

/

it was an unlicensed app, right? but you know the website seemed normal enough and i figured that if this worked, i wouldn't really care what they did with whatever got left behind. enough debt to buy a house i guess? i thought i'd been fucked anyway, made a profile and went 2 weeks without a response or message. they're just gonna rob me, huh? this is even better than Lex.

i really needed a girl to pin me down and start tearing into me, nobody ever goes hard enough goddammit. if you want something done right i guess you need to find the real deal.

i almost deleted the app, told myself two days in a row that i should. then, a photo, a mass, the clash of textures between corded muscle and gelatinous organ, heaped onto the dust at night. the kind of thing you'd see on a trail cam, but the angle was wrong.

how can i reply? i can't just hit her with the keysmash, how many women like her can even admit they'd want to do this to you. prey have to stand out a bit more these days, predator populations are way down.

"hey um, is that your work? i really liek it ;3"

fuck goddammit its over im fucking blowing it

"thnk u for noticing meeeee!~"

i'll just kms i'm cooked

"sorry i, the composition of the piece is very strong. the way the textures of the corpse contrast with the dusty landscape, acts to draw your focus as much as the border of the spot lighting and surrounding darkness. the off center lighting creates an almost sfumato effect along the massing, creating beautiful shadow shapes. would you want a new subject? ;3"

"Hahaha, you're cute aren't you?"

my rizz is unlimited

"We should meet. Do you know Henry Coe?"

/

Going back down the 22% grade is harder than climbing it and made even worse by the loose gravelly surface and the too many gin and tonics I had after we made camp. My boot catches a rock as I leave the trail and my knees hit the rocks. It hurts, but I'm having trouble finding the meeting spot, maybe some blood on the trail will help her find me. It feels like she's already on top of me. There's a pressure in the air and it makes every crack and shift in the earth reverberate across the slope. In that moment I can hear every motion every breath under the scrub. There's nothing, just wind howling over the crest of Mount Sizer. But I can feel her boring into me. I keep waiting for her to collide with me, knock me to the ground. I want her I want her inside me.

I want to be ready so I strip my torn clothing from my body.

This has to be the spot, the singular tree matches the photo she sent. I sit, bare ass shivering on the stone under the tree and wipe the fresh beads of blood down my knees, only managing to make a big red smear reaching halfway down my shins. The premix gin and tonics from the campsite start to fight their way back up my throat.

"I didn't think you were gonna show." she's smiling. Her stare pierces through me like I'm not even there. Its entrancing.

Her amber felid form followed my same path along the mountainside and into this depression. A little bit of my blood already stains her muzzle.

"You're Eloise? You know you shouldn't give your real name out to strangers on the internet, right?" She stretches the last word out, lilting, like she's trying hard not to laugh.

I'm struggling to respond through the boozy haze, the biting wind, and the nerves I get just looking at her. "i didn't really think it mattered" I uncurl a bit and she finally gets a look at my face. "can i know yours?"

She jumps, pounces, closing the distance between us faster than I can react. The full weight of her body hits me square between the breasts. Between her body and the rocks beneath every last wisp of air is pressed from my lungs. Her scent hits me all once as I gasp for air, she's actually wild, fuck. Her stink is acrid, acidic, astringent, its the kind of smell that sucks the moisture out of the air and dries out your mouth. I don't gag so much as start panting and straining towards her. "Its Tiffany." Planted on my sternum she makes every breath a labor and I barely manage to whisper a reply.

"i… i…"

I've wanted this for so long but I never thought I'd get this far. I have no idea what to say.

She shifts her weight into my guts and the sick I've been holding back overtops the lump in my throat and pours weakly down my chin. I gag into my chest as my entire body contracts and the waves of my vomit splash flecks of evidence into the fur of her breast and forelegs.

"Its okay kiddo, you don't have to say anything"

"please," I'm coughing up the heavier stragglers stuck in my throat, "you're beautiful" It just burns now. "i need you to take everything from me"

She laughs and looks down, guiding my eye to her massive paws pressing into the plush of my abdomen. To the contents of my stomach emptied over my still flat chest and softening waistline, dripping off in chunks. The tips of her claws poke from their cuticle in their round furred sheath. Fully deployed, each one looks like a karambit, sharpened just for me. She runs her paws gently over my belly, the touch imperceptable over that of the scouring wind, and still, red and black beads follow in the trail she leaves. The roughness of her underpaw brushes past my aching nipples. I can't help but gasp at the burst of sensation attacking my touch starved corpus. She cups her mouth over my breast and gently rolls the small lump of fat around with her tongue, punctuating herself by flicking the tensed tip against my nipples. I can barely process how desperately horny I am. Between my love life sequestered behind a screen and my newly sensitive flesh, I was unprepared. Warmth spreads where my cunt should be and I can't help but grind weakly against her soft underbelly. The first hardon I've had in weeks, I'm almost crying. She pauses a moment and grins down at my weak erection to let me frot against her own growing studded clit. She pins my wrists against the stony ground and puts her hips into it. I'm screaming, the feeling is so intense it almost edges into painful. She's growling feral in my ear, gravel infiltrating her saccharine valley accent. God Fuck please I need it its fucking happening. I shoot; I didn't even know I could do that anymore. The thin mucus spraying from my tip coats the gap between us and she thrusts harder against my pelvis. When she shoots, it hits me in the chin so hard I yelp.

"You really are cute. I hope I can keep you." Her voice trails off and she looks down at me with pity or maybe resignation.

Held down by her impossible strength, she pulls open the soft flesh of my belly like a ripe persimmon. I scream and the sound is deadened and hurried away by the gusts up the windward side of the mountain. Her snout pushes into the freshly wet cleft and I feel her buried deep inside my guts. She works her way underneath my ribs, my chest swelling at the foreign addition. There is a new pressure in me as she nibbles at my liver, the taut wet bulge of organ fills her mouth. I feel her tugging at me with suction at the back her her throat. Her teeth sink into me and the shifting cords of her stiff neck pull with enough force to tear the dark mass free. I sit in a howling void, fully part of that world. I am pure energy bursting forth from a charred vessel. Steam rises around the internal heat bleeding external, a pocket in our frigid night. Spread thin over the earth, I hope she makes eye contact with me while she chews at the choice cuts. She looks back at me, almost bashful at the intimacy held in our stares.

She lays by my side devouring me. Her cum pools in my jugular notch, stained pink with flecks of blood. A tongue like a wave of sand cleans my blood from my outstretched hand. She works her way between each of my fingers all the way down to the webbing. Rolling them over and over with that wet muscle. She knows exactly what she's doing, she's still finding ways to tease me back to ecstasy. In one smooth motion she pulls the hand into her mouth, laying the wrist perfectly along her incisors, canines neatly out of the way. And she bites, gently at first, and then the muscles in her jaw tighten and contract. Blood oozes forth and then sprays from the base of the bite. The radiocarpal ligaments snap apart in suddenly relived tension and her teeth smash themselves between my many carpal bones. My hand spasms, articulated by pain, and she rolls her bite just enough. The back of my hand hits the wet of her hard palate and every nerve in my hand screams as it comes away in her mouth. She pins the arm under her while she sucks at the meat of my hand.

its too much its everything im scared i cant

I come to and the wind's died down a little, the moon's not quite where it used to be. I guess you can live a pretty long time with your guts out and no liver. Longer than I'd have thought anyway. A stump of a wrist bounces off a rock as she drags me. The edges are black with either dried blood or frostbite. I'm not sure how much longer I have left, but every second I get with her is an eternity.

[drabbles-mc]

Crunch-Time

Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & OC Evangeline Reyes

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This exists in the same universe as Interruptions but can be read without having read that first. I have the next part of this universe written up already as well, so I'm hoping to post that over the next few days at some point. this piece and the next one are focused more on the three Reyes Siblings than Evangeline and Franky but i promise it is all gonna come back together haha. anyway! as always unedited and unbeta'd because the muse caught me by the jugular tonight lmao

The morning had been quiet so far. Mornings in the middle of the week didn’t tend to be busy times for most of the shops on the strip, and Evangeline’s was no exception. She took advantage of the lack of foot traffic, calling and emailing with the people on both sides of the border who sent her their clothes and jewelry to sell in her shop. She was far from a big name or a huge retailer, but she was good and fair to the artists and designers that she worked with. And for a lot of people who were just trying to make some extra money to get by, that was more than enough.

She was updating some of her order spreadsheets, getting to the bottom of her first coffee of the day, when the bells above her shop door chimed. Out of habit she smiled, turning her head slightly to the door even though her eyes were still on the computer screen in front of her as she spoke to the customer who had just come through the door.

“Bienvenidos! I’ll be with you in just one second.”

“Okay,” the woman responded, a twinge of uncertainty in her voice.

Her tone got Evangeline to look up and over at her, wondering what was going on that was making her sound like that. The woman was standing in the tiny little foyer area of the shop, right by the chair that her brothers usually occupied whenever they stopped by to bother her. She looked a little older, enough gray strands of hair mixed in with the brown to be prominent. She had dress bag draped over her arms. Despite the fact that the woman seemed to be trying to keep a neutral expression, Evangeline could see the worry in her eyes.

She got up and walked around the counter, stopping a few feet in front of her before asking, “How can I help you?”

The woman drew in a deep breath, and for a moment Evangeline wasn’t sure if she was trying to steady herself, or if she was about to let loose a tirade. She braced herself for both regardless. The woman locked eyes with her, lips curled into a small frown. “I’m so sorry,” she said, words tumbling out along with the deep breath she’d just taken, “just barging in like this. But I didn’t know…a friend of a friend recommended you and I just,” her shoulders slumped in defeat, “I’m in a bit of a tough spot.”

Evangeline nodded. “Okay. What kind of tough spot are we talking about?”

The woman gave a small lift of her arms, just enough to draw attention to the dress bag. “My son’s wedding is this weekend, and the dress that was supposed to be delivered a month ago isn’t going to be delivered until next week so I had to go out and buy another one but nothing fit off the rack and everywhere else is saying they can’t get it done in time,” she spoke like the sentence was never going to end, like she had been trying to pick certain bullet points to say and then just decided on all of them, “and I understand it’s short notice and it’s not their fault but I really need—”

Evangeline took a small step forward, just close enough so that she could rest her hand on the outside of the woman’s arm. “How about,” she spoke gently, “we get this on you and take a look. Let me know what you need done and I’ll see what I can do about having it ready for you before your son’s wedding.”

The woman’s eyes instantly glassed over with tears of relief as she nodded. “That would be great. Th-thank you.”

She nodded as she let her hand drop back to her side. She motioned for the woman to follow her towards the back of the store. “I’m Evangeline, by the way.”

The woman let out a shaky laugh. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—” she shook her head, “April.”

“Nice to meet you, April.” She reached and opened up the door to the dressing room. “Let me know if you need help.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to re-emerge. Evangeline instantly smiled. The dress was beautiful—a deep purple floor length gown that was one-shoulder. From the first glance she could already tell that, unless April was planning on wearing heels high enough to snap her ankles walking down the aisle, the dress was at least going to be hemmed. If that’s all it was, she could get it done quickly, but she didn’t want to speak too soon.

“I know it’s not the dress you wanted,” she said as April stepped up onto the small platform in front of the trifold mirror, “but it looks amazing.”

She laughed and smiled. “Thank you.”

Evangeline was slipping on her wristlet that had a collection of pins and sewing needles jammed into it. “So, what are we looking to get done?”

She sighed. “I at least need it hemmed…”

Evangeline nodded as she looked at the flats the woman was wearing. “How short? Are you wearing heels or—”

She laughed and waved her off good-naturedly. “I’m too told to be worrying about heels and a dancefloor at this point. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t fall over and take my son down with me.”

Evangeline laughed. “I get it, I get it. Alright, so we’re hemming. What else?”

She motioned to the waistline. “If you could let this out a little bit maybe? Feels like I can barely breathe let alone eat.” She paused to laugh. “And I know they got a really good cake for the reception.”

Evangeline hummed in amusement. “Well, can’t have you missing out on that, can we?”

“I’d love not to.”

She nodded understandingly as they talked about a couple other small things that she was looking to have done to the dress. She made a quick lap around to get the full scope of it before giving her final verdict. “I should be able to have this ready for you by the time I close up shop on Friday.”

Shock completely absorbed her expression. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I got a couple jobs that can wait until next week. I can get this done for you as long as Friday isn’t too late.”

April’s laughter was coated in relief as she stepped down and wrapped Evangeline in a hug. “Thank you.”

She hugged her back, unable to stop herself from laughing as well. “Don’t thank me until it’s done,” she joked.

She had April step back up onto the platform so that she could start pinning her dress where it needed to be hemmed to. Now that the initial panic that caused her visit was mostly resolved, Evangeline noticed how much more relaxed they both were, but especially April. They made small talk as she walked around and placed her pins and marked where she needed to for later.

Getting the dress marked up was, surprisingly enough, the quickest part of their exchange. She understood why it was hard for April to find a place to take care of her last minute—it was prom season and the start of wedding season so most places were probably slammed. It wasn’t as though Evangeline’s schedule was painfully open, but she always tried to leave herself a little wiggle-room just in case.

The two of them were putting the dress back on the hanger after April had changed back into her regular clothes when Evangeline heard her brother’s bikes outside. Or rather, she assumed it was them—it wasn’t as though the other members of the club made a habit out of stopping by to visit her very often.

She was purposely ignoring it as she and April traded contact information. The roar of the engines stopped, moments later the door chimes rang, and Evangeline was still intent on ignoring it all. She noticed the way that April turned to look and see who had walked in, and she also noticed the momentary shift in her expression. It wasn’t a negative change, but she definitely hadn’t been expecting two men in club kuttes to walk through the door. Evangeline couldn’t blame her for the shock.

She walked with her back towards the front of the store, still not acknowledging her brothers. “I’ll give you a call first thing on Friday to let you know when you can come and pick it up.”

April had let out so many sighs of relief that she’d lost count, but she added another one to the tally. “Thank you so much. Really, I, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was nice meeting you, April.”

She nodded. “You too.” She tucked the card that Evangeline had given her into her purse as she tried to slip past Angel and Ezekiel without getting in their way. She brushed by Angel, giving him a small nod and a kind, “Excuse me,” on the way.

There was a smirk on his face as he stepped out of her way. Hands tucked in his pockets he put on the most charming voice he had as he said, “You have a good day, Miss.”

Her smile stretched a little wider. “Thank you.”

Once the door shut behind her, Evangeline immediately rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I could kill you for how ridiculous you are. Sabes?” She gestured to EZ. “He wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

Angel laughed as he held his hands up in surrender. “What? I was just bein’ n—”

“You weren’t bein’ anything good. Poor woman just trying to come in here to get a dress hemmed and she’s gotta…” she trailed off as she shook her head.

EZ was trying and failing at his attempts to stifle his laughter. He looked at Angel. “Told you we should’ve come later.”

Angel waved him off without even looking at him. “Nah, nah. This is breaking news. Can’t wait.” He focused on Evangeline. “Think I might have a job for you.”

She was shaking her head as she turned around and started returning to the back of the store. “I told you guys—I only stitch fabric. I’m not sewing up anyone in the club who—”

Angel sucked his teeth in annoyance. “No, Eva. I meant,” he huffed, thrown off his game. “Will you fuckin’ listen?”

EZ wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter anymore. Evangeline turned around and faced Angel, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing vaguely in the air. “Alright, alright. I’m listening. Dime.”

“Like I was fuckin’ saying,” Angel started again, “I think I got a job for you.” He reached dramatically into the pocket of his kutte. “Think you got time to maybe, I dunno,” he pulled out a small slip of fabric that Evangeline almost didn’t recognize for a moment, “stitch on your little brother’s Secretario patch?”

Evangeline’s smile was warm as she laughed. “Got a promotion?”

“Hell yeah,” Angel agreed.

She nodded as she folded her arms across her chest. “Congratulations, Angel.”

He gave a dramatic bow. “Thank you, thank you. Please, don’t feel like you have to hold your fuckin’ applause.”

She laughed. “I think I still will.” She saw the way he was shaking his head at her and stepped in to hug him. “I’m happy for you, ‘manito.”

He kissed the side of her head. “Thanks.” Pulling back, he looked at the wristlet she was still wearing from her meeting with April. “Really, though. You think you could, uh, maybe stitch this—”

“Angel Ignacio. You’re not actually—”

“Just if you had some fuckin’ time, I don’t know!”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I don’t have time. Here,” she plucked a needle form her wristlet and quickly went back and grabbed a spool of thread that would be tough enough to stitch his patch on effectively and handed it to him, “This should do just fine. Won’t take you very long.” She heard and saw the way EZ was laughing and quickly turned her attention on him. “Don’t laugh too hard, Prospect. A title flash is easy—wait ‘til you need to stitch on your bottom rocker.”

It got EZ’s laughter to stop and Angel’s to pick up. He walked over, roughly shoving his shoulder against EZ’s. “Yeah, what she said. Shut the fuck—”

“That’s not what I said,” Evangeline cut him off with a laugh.

Angel waved her off. “Close enough.”

It took a few moments for all of them to stop laughing. Once they did, Evangeline asked, “You going next door to tell Pops now?”

Angel shook his head. “Nah.”

Evangeline sighed. “Angel—”

He knew where she was going next so he stopped her before she could start. Turning to look at EZ, he said, “We do gotta ask him about delivering to the clubhouse though. Cater the celebration.” He returned his attention back to his sister. “This one you actually gotta show up for. Since it’s for me.” He grinned.

EZ laughed. “It’s not just—”

Angel held his hand up. “Shut it, Prospect.” He raised his eyebrows. “You gonna come through?”

“I don’t—”

“It’s Friday! Not even a work night!”

She tilted her head in confusion. “That’s still a work night for me, you know.”

He let out the type of groan someone would expect from a petulant child not getting their way. “Come on, Eva. It’s gonna be a good time. Other charters coming through and shit.”

Normally she made it a habit not to hang around the clubhouse too often. She had no bad blood towards the club, not really. Everyone was just doing what they knew how to do in order to get from one day to the next. She was no different than them in that regard—her means were just different than theirs. She didn’t hold it against them but she also wasn’t going to let it upend the life she had been working very hard for years to create for herself.

Her guest appearances were rare. Every now and then if one of her brothers had needed something she would stop by. Sometimes she wouldn’t even go past the main office for the scrapyard, leaving whatever she’d brought with Chucky and a note. She could count on one hand the number of parties that she could say that she really went to. The look in Angel’s eyes had her thinking that that miniscule number was about to go up by one.

“I’m gonna be late,” she finally conceded after a few more seconds of silence, “’cause I’ve got some stuff I’ll need to catch up on but—”

Angel was already hugging her and laughing. “That’s what I thought!” He let her go and started to backpedal towards the door. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. Gonna go tell Pops we need him Friday too.” He looked at EZ and nodded towards the door. “C’mon, he ain’t gonna say yes unless you’re the one asking.”

EZ chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll catch up in a sec.”

Angel opened the door, calling back to his sister, “Love you!”

“You better!” Evangeline was still shaking her head at him even when he was out of sight. She walked the rest of the way back to take the purple dress off its hanger and put it on the dress form to start working. She was lowering herself down to the floor to get started when she said, “What’s on your mind, Ezekiel?”

He shrugged, hands holding the edges of his kutte as he walked back to her. “Nothin’. Now I’m just stressing about having to stitch on my rocker in a few months.”

Evangeline laughed. “If you’re really up a creek with it maybe I’ll help.” She paused, still not looking directly at him as she reiterated, “But really, what’s going on?”

He paused as he tried to figure out how to go about trying to start the conversation that he wanted to have. “If you don’t wanna go…”

She looked up at him for a moment. “Angel’s very excited. I don’t have a problem showing up for a little while for him. It’s fine—I don’t need you to give me a pass.”

“You’re not excited though.”

She allowed herself to fully plop down on the floor. She kept her legs bent so that she could drape her arms across her knees. “I…I’m glad that it’s going well for him. For both of you, actually. I know that this,” she made a vague gesture towards his kutte, “is what you’ve both chosen to do. And you’re apparently very good at it. I’m glad you found something together.”

“Yeah but you’d rather—”

“There’s no rather,” she cut him off but made sure to keep her tone calm. “We’re all grown, EZ. We’ve,” she chuckled, “we’ve been grown. You should know that better than…” she trailed off. “We’re all just doing what we have to do to be okay. I’m not going to start holding that against you or Angel now.”

“Really?”

Evangeline was too smart to take the bait that was packed into his tone. She gave a simple nod and a small smile. “Really.” Before he could try to push her farther, she gestured towards the door. “Angel was right—he’s gonna need your help getting Pop to agree to play caterer for you guys.”

He frowned for a moment, not expecting the dismissal. “Right.” He started to back up towards the door. “See you Friday then.”

She nodded, still offering a smile. “You will.” She watched as he turned and walked. “Ezekiel?”

He paused at the door, fingers wrapped around the handle but he didn’t push as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Love you.”

The frustration disappeared from his face, at least for the moment. “Love you.”

Mayans Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!):

@garbinge @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion

@justreblogginfics @narcolini @cositapreciosa @fanfic-n-tabulous

[chthonicgodling]

[lowkey an Elysium Drama Update! welll! not really but peeking into canon]

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 YUO GUYSSYSSYSS

oops I drew this weeks ago like, three days after Røkia was born and uhhh twiddles my thumbs didn’t get around to posting it til— now. Well! I had a pile of baby dragon pics to fling out that I’d been stashing for months. Also, I had hopes and dreams to draw more to this and then got sidetracked by other drawings + nerfed by personal stuff soooo. Solo pic after all. At long last. Whooopsie daisy

Part of my intended caption is embedded in the slides cause I already sobbed out my tumblr post about it, but yeah in trickling through the PILEEEE of both Taci kids + Loki kids, this incredibly sweet moment of summoning Eisa and Myra as the very special first ones to meet their *FULL* brother had me dissolving. And THEM dissolving as they fully burst into overwhelmed-with-cute tears. They also got to tell everyone else he was here :))

Most of the siblings have all met their new brother by now, on and off screen, other notable moments include:

•Neo, somber but sincere: “he’s so cute, he’s like if an alligator was a puppy.”

•Raz at his whole big age of 12 literally whisper-screaming “I FUCKING LOVE HIM”

•Baby Sæ really wants to know why she can’t bring Røkia into the pool to play with her??🙄

•Rane begrudgingly gave approval and wanted to know if he was prone to biting. “only to little girls who are rude to him,” warns Maci 😒 (Loki fully like ???????? LOL DID ANYONE TELL HIM ABOUT RANE AND HER FIGHT WITH THEM?? NO?!?!?!?!)

•finally, Chal & Libby (with respective spouses), with Chal very concerned about whether spontaneously birthing a dragon is just sometimes something that happens to people (“no, just Loki”) and then on that note, hey quick unrelated question she asks, uhhhh how do you know when you’re ready to have a second baby just asking for no reason ahem hem???

😶😶😶…

anyway :)

another couple doodles to post, but coming up next at some point is a whole rewind canon convo to get to and uh no it’s not drawn yet. stay.,, tuned as always! Tory belongs to the hiatus’d @fenixethekid ; eeeeveryone else here is mine. Shh even EeL. tyty

[strangelypenned]

Hello All! I figured since ao3 is down I’d post the first chapter of my fic Heavy Metal Healing here for those looking for something to read! I hope this helps you get by in the drought. If you enjoy this check me out on ao3 under the same username. The next three chapters are up there whenever the site comes back online. Enjoy! 💜

Summary:

When rockstar Eddie Munson and the battle-scarred Steve Harrington collide their journey begins with pain, but quickly turns into something extraordinary. As Eddie embraces his dominant side and Steve explores submission, their connection becomes a steamy oasis of healing and love. Amid pleasure and pain, they rewrite their stories in a harmonious and unconventional embrace. And let's not forget the party and Robin, who never miss a chance to tease them along the way! It's a provocative tale where hurt transforms into hope, and two hearts find solace in the most unexpected places. Get ready to feel the heat!

Chapter 1:

There were a thousand other ways Steve could be spending his Friday night. He had two papers due within the next week, a birthday party to plan, and a doctor’s appointment he was dreading. Yet here he was, allowing Robin to repeatedly stab him in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. Eyeliner he really didn’t even want to be wearing. Going to a show he was about 75% sure he wasn’t going to enjoy.

“Quit blinking Dingus. Unless you want to lose an eye." Robin barked as she jabbed the flat end of the pencil into his ribs.

"I'm only blinking 'cause you're stabbing me in the eye with a sharp object. Also, how much longer is this going to take? If we want to get to Indi on time we need to leave in like 15 minutes." He glanced at the clock over her shoulder. They had been playing dress-up for over an hour and a half now, and the venue was roughly that far away. If they didn't leave soon they'd likely miss the show altogether.

"Fine. Fuck, we'll just call this good then. I got what I wanted mostly done anyways. " She was franticly throwing stuff in her small makeup bag, finally releasing the iron grip she had on his chin. Standing on sleep numb legs Steve took a look at himself in the mirror.

He almost didn't recognize the person looking back at him, Robin had outdone herself. He was wearing her clothes for the most part. A pair of black jeans that fit a little too tight. He remembers watching her cut the holes into them a few weeks ago in a bored crafting fit. A faded black t-shirt that fit a little bit snugly around the biceps. A large golden sun painted across his chest. It matched the yellow polish on his nails, painted by a smiling Jane earlier that week.

What stood out the most though were his eyes. The dark liner drawing attention to the warm hazel. She had even done his hair, It floated around his head softly, looking fluffier than normal. Yes, Robin had certainly outdone herself.

"How do you feel? I didn't overdo it did I? I know it's different than what you usually wear, but you went on that tangent the other day about wanting to change your look. And I know you don't want to touch your move-out savings to do so so I thou-" He caught her eye in the mirror.

Turning he placed his hands on her shoulders, her outfit was a reflection of his. The differences were the denim vest she had covered in pins and patches, and her shirt being actual merchandise for the bad they were seeing. A large 'CC' was pained across her chest above a flaming coffin.

"Robs I love it. You did a great job. It's definitely different, but I wanted that. Now can we please get out f here before we miss the show?" She nodded her head enthusiastically as he tied his favorite yellow sweater around his waist.

"Normally I would harass you about bringing the comfort sweater, but It kind of works. That, and I know I'm pushing you pretty hard already taking you to a metal show and all." She threw the words over her shoulder as they trudged down the stars. Making sure to stand closer to his good ear.

" Well, you've been talking about this group nonstop for like three months now. So I might as well give them a chance. Plus the volume may ring through my thick skull a bit better." His doctor had mentioned something about music with heavier tones being easier to enjoy. Something to do with the base and the vibrations. It was one of the few reasons, other than making Robin smile, he agreed to go. Smiles didn't come as easily after their final round with the upside down.

"I really think you'll enjoy yourself if you give it a chance Steve. She gave him a knowing look as she buckled herself in. Probably picking up on his thoughts with that freaky telephony thing they seemed to have ever since the Russians.

"I promise I'll give it a chance Robbs. God knows I could use some fun," he mumbled the last part as he backed out of the driveway. She laughed at his words as they coasted up the street, hopefully heading for a much-needed night of fun.

🎸

According to Robin's hour-and-a-half-long lecture about the band, they were extremely lucky to be seeing them at this venue. Normally they played for significantly larger crowds, but this is where they had done one of their first shows. They tended to perform here whenever they were in town for nostalgia's sake. It being such a small place meant tickets were normally gone in a flash. Robin, the lucky bird, had won some radio contest. So not only did they get to go to a sold-out show, they got to go to a sound check and a meet and greet post-show. Truly the pinnacle of luck.

He was glad they would be arriving early. This would allow him the chance to survey his surroundings before the crowd set in. His nerves being shot ever since the final battle, as the kids had started calling it. Either way, being able to spot all of the exits before the show started and the people packed in helped. He felt some of the ever-present tension in his body abate at the thought.

He allowed himself to be tugged along by Robin who was all but skipping in excitement. It was nice to see her so amped up. Her excitement tugged at the corners of his lips, and he caught himself chuckling as they grew closer to the venue. The place was a converted bowling alley that still had a few lanes for guests to use before and after shows.

"Did I tell you we even get two free drinks? The royal treatment I tell ya. Must remind you of the good ole days." alluding to the high school nickname he grew to detest with time. She knew better than to actually call him it though. Something about it rattled his heart in the most unpleasant of ways.

"You didn't mention the drinks bird brain. Here I thought I'd be shelling out for overpriced beers. " She gave him a dead look over her shoulder. Both of them knew that he hated the taste of beer and mostly drank it for appearances in school.

They stood in line behind a handful of people, a select few also had early entry tickets. They were snapping bright red bracelets on the wrists of those with VIP entry.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, they were standing in front of a long bar. Robin was shoving a brightly colored cocktail into his hands. He had checked out again. A gift left behind from his fourth concussion. He looked at Robin with a questioning frown.

"It was about ten minutes this time." She rattled off looking at the watch she had taken to wearing when the checkouts had started. That was shorter than the last one so at least there was that. He had grounding tips for when he was at home or driving, but they tended not to work when out and about.

He nodded sluggishly and began to look at his surroundings. Ten or so people were floating around the space while a few people tinkered with equipment on stage. There were doors that led to what appeared to be a balcony, probably a smokers section. The bowling lanes glowed in various neon shades of pink, blue, and purple. They weren't in use but still shined brightly to the left of the stage. And there was the exit, perfect. He felt the slight tremble in his hands ease up when he located the doors.

"Hey Robs I'm gonna go take a quick smoke break and I'll be right back okay?" She looked at him with a question in her eyes, 'Do you need me to come?" He shook his head softly and gave a tired smile before heading for the balcony. He had quit smoking for a while at one point. But after the final showdown, late at night when the sounds of the upside down were loudest in his mind's eye, he found relief in the smoke.

As he stepped outside he noticed the air had picked up a slight chill. He set his drink down and quickly tugged his yellow sweater overhead. The worn fabric brought a level of comfort he rarely found in his closet these days.

Tugging his cigarettes out of his pocket and placing one between his lips, he came to the abrupt realization he had left his lighter in the car. He let out a quiet 'fuck'.

"You need a light?" A melodic voice asked from off to the side of him. He felt himself flinch, he hadn't noticed anyone else outside.

The link since ao3 is now back online:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48088879

[cruorcrave]

19 December 2024

(TL;DR at the end.)

Today was pretty alright. I mostly just finished up xmas shopping (took a while cuz my mother had a lot of places to go) but it was made more fun by the fact I finally got my sister's present. I bought her a bag of chocolates as well as a 10-pack of ciders, and I wrapped every item individually then put them back in their respective packets. Hopefully she finds it funny (me and my sisters prank each other with our presents - but we also make sure the presents are actually good and what they wanted, just in the most annoying way possible.)

Other than that, I haven't done much today. I'm trying to get myself into the mindset of drawing/writing/creating even if it's not good. Even if it isn't perfect I should still be creating because it's what I want to be known for and it's what I want to do, it just takes a bit of effort. Gonna try to get a drawing out today or tomorrow.

One of my new tumblr-made friends is being a bit distant and I'm worried about them. I haven't known them for long (literally like a month) so I don't know their habits or anything yet. I'm just hoping I haven't upset them or scared them off, or that something particularly bad has come up in their life. Hopefully they're alright.

The school morning tea was good. My friend picked me up in her car and luckily there weren't a lot of people there. Only about 10 of us from a class of about 75, and it was all people I liked or tolerated. My friend who wants me to be in his upcoming zombie short film chatted with me about it, I saw teachers I like again, I got like three cans of free Sprite, it was great all round. Me and a few friends have another get together some time in the next few weeks which will be nice as the people I hate/cannot tolerate aren't invited. Yippee!

tw discussing s/h briefly

As was probably clear from last night's posting, I relapsed. However, there is a silver lining here. I didn't cut myself or draw any blood in any way. I hit myself and got a small bruise, but it's already starting to fade just a day later, and the headache was gone by mid-morning. I'm dedicated to trying to get to 3 days right now, and then hopefully to a week. Trying to focus on the positives. My longest streak in a while has been 3 days and so I'm trying to break that. I'm still counting hitting (whether against something hard or with the pliers) as a relapse because one, it usually leaves a bruise and gives me a killer headache (sometimes for days on end) and two, it is to harm myself. I'm still struggling with thoughts of.. man, I gotta find a name for this. "drinking" feels wrong - its not that much blood - but maybe "taking" is more accurate? Let's go with that. I'm still struggling with thoughts of taking but I'm trying to acknowledge them and then move on. Rather than ignoring them, I'm telling myself "Okay, I want to do that, but I know I'll only feel worse for it, and even though I don't know what's causing the feelings directly, I know it's a problem and has to do with my mental illnesses, therefore I shouldn't give in." It's worked so far today, if only for today. I still can't help but wonder why I ever had the feelings in the first place, though. I just want them to go away now is all I know. Either way, this approach definitely works better than telling myself "If you give in you'll go crazy and never be able to stop like some freak vampire-hannibal hybrid so ignore the hunger." That definitely wasn't working.

Anyway, wish me luck. 1 day clean as I write this.

Song of the Day: Pieces - Sum 41

Also, I'm going to start putting TL;DRs at the end of my diary posts cuz they're long as shit and ain't nobody got time for that.

TL;DR:

Today was okay. Did Christmas shopping, ready to prank my older sisters. Didn't do much else, want to draw more. One of my friends is distant, I'm a bit worried. Final exam debrief morning tea was good. Relapsed but wasn't as bad as usual. Trying a new approach to staying clean; acknowledging urges and validating them. Trying to get to 3 days, then a week.

Clean since 18 December 2024

[morganski-19]

With A Comma After Dearest Part 5

part 1, part 4

Robin feels great. It’s the first time in weeks that she’s woken up from the sound of her alarm, and not from a nightmare. It’s the first time in weeks that she’s slept for more than four hours. She doesn’t know how it happened, but when a miracle happens, no one dares question it, so why would she? No, instead she’s going to grab the miracle by the throat and make the most of her day. And maybe not look like shit for once. 

She looks in her closet, taking time to pick out an outfit instead of just grabbing whatever looks the comfiest. She takes a shower and even makes herself an actual breakfast instead of a piece of toast. It might make her almost late for school, but it’s the first time that she feels like herself again. 

When she comes barreling out the door and into the passenger seat of Steve’s car, ready to start doing her makeup in the sunshade mirror, Steve is too busy glaring at her to start the car. 

“What?” She asks, ready to go for once. 

“You’re wearing jeans, and an actual shirt.”

She does a quick glance at her outfit, not seeing anything wrong with it. As if he has any say in what she should wear anyway. “Yeah, what about it?”

“You’re not wearing sweats.”

“Oh. No, I’m not. I actually slept last night, I guess.”

His face breaks out in a soft smile. “Hey, that’s good.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. Now come on, I don’t need another tardy trying to hinder me from graduating, go.”

“I’m going, alright, Jeez.”

. . . 

Robin looks different. Not a bad different, Nancy thinks. A good different if anything. She looks, awake, refreshed. She looks herself, if that’s what herself looks like. 

Nancy doesn’t really have a lot to base it off of, the only knowledge she had of the way Robin would normally carry herself was in the one week they knew each other. And even then, there were other factors that would have hindered the way she did. She looks confident, happy. She looks like Robin. 

Her eyes can’t help but follow Robin as she walks down the hall and into her classroom. It’s captivating. There’s nothing that’s really changed that much, but it draws her in. Like that time in the library but tenfold. 

There’s still no good explanation that Nancy has for that moment. She’s chalked it up to the fact that she had gotten less sleep that night and just zoned out because of it. Because there was nothing else in her mind that could have been the reason for it. There couldn’t be. Nancy had already gone down a whole road of self-discovery in the past few years and she had already reached the end of it, there was no way that more could be ahead of her. 

She knew who she was, that was unchanging. There was nothing more to that. 

. . . 

The beautiful Robin,

Hope that isn’t too weird or anything, it’s generally just a compliment. Anyway, I saw you walking through the halls and just wanted to tell you how good you looked today. I can’t really describe it but you just look more yourself. I like it, reminds me a little bit of when we first met.

More importantly, I guess, is that you looked more awake. Which could just be a complete illusion, but I’m choosing to believe that meant you got a good night's sleep. Which, yay, congrats. The first nightmare free night normally gives you a sense of false hope, but it means that you’re going in the right direction. 

That’s the whole purpose of the note. I just thought you looked good and deserved to know it. 

Grateful to see you more yourself, 

Nancy

Robin can’t breathe. Whatever air was in her lungs was immediately punched out of her chest with the first three words. 

Nancy thinks she’s beautiful. Which she really shouldn’t construe in any way that isn’t just a platonic compliment, but how can she? It’s right there, written on paper. A written confirmation that Nancy thinks that Robin is beautiful. Nancy claims it’s just a compliment, which objectively it is, and Robin knows that she didn’t mean it in a way that’s romantic. But with everything else written, her heart can’t help but start beating faster. 

She noticed things about Robin. Not just like today, but before they were even this close. Noticed the change in the way Robin dressed based on one, maybe two outfits that she had seen prior. Noticed the way that she’s actually awake, carrying herself the way she normally would instead of hunching over and shuffling to class. There was a beat to her steps again, and Nancy noticed it. 

It’s not the most surprising thing in the world, Nancy’s a pretty observant person. And if the roles were reversed, Robin would notice the same thing. But that’s because she’s different. Despite her best efforts, she looks at Nancy differently than Nancy views her. It’s something she can’t control, but that’s just the way the cards fell. Her heart picked up without her brain being able to stop it, and she hasn’t been able to stop it yet. 

So it’s supposed to be Robin who picks up on the minuscule details, not Nancy. Even if the things that she noticed weren’t exactly minuscule. But they were still less noticeable to anyone who didn’t know her. 

Maybe she’s just blowing this out of proportion. She’s obviously dressed differently than the way she was for the last few weeks. And even though she’s still been able to put on some sort of makeup to make the bags of her eyes look less, it’s better applied today, clearer. Even Steve noticed that things were different. Yet, he still didn’t call her beautiful, only Nancy did.

. . . 

The beautiful Nancy,

Look I’m copying you now. Not exactly like it’s false though, anyone with eyes would notice that you’re beautiful. But you complimented me so I feel like I should compliment you. So I did. 

Thank you for your compliment, I really appreciated it. Steve kinda had the same reaction this morning, without the beautiful comment because that would have been super weird coming from him, to be honest. But when I got in the car this morning, he was too busy giving me a weird look, and I mean weird as in weirded out and not because I couldn’t figure out what the look meant, to start the car and bring me to school. Something about me wearing jeans and an actual shirt instead of a hoodie. I personally don’t see anything wrong with because the hoodie I have is very comfortable, and he should know, I stole it from him. 

I hope that’s not too weird. I know it’s traditional for girlfriends to steal their boyfriend’s hoodie and shit, but I feel like that could also be a best friend thing. Especially since there is no shred of attraction between us because, ew gross. I don’t need to prove it to you again because we already told you, but platonic with a capital P. And he stole one of my jackets before so it’s not like it’s just a me thing.

Anyway, I’m rambling again, but in word form. Not that I don’t normally ramble in a non-word form, I guess this is just a written word form. Whatever

Just wanted to thank you for the compliment and return the favor,

Robin

If anyone asked Nancy what was in the note passed the first paragraph, she wouldn’t be able to tell them. It’s not like she didn’t read it, she always reads whatever Robin gives her, even going back to make sure she didn’t miss a word. But this time, here eyes only find those words. 

Nancy’s been told that she was beautiful before. It wasn’t exactly something that she paid mind to, just accepted the comment and moved on. Compliments rolled off of Nancy like a wave, letting her soak in the moment but then receding back to where they came from. Never sticking around long enough for Nancy to believe it for too long. It’s not that she didn’t think she was good-looking, or even pretty. There were always just things about her that she didn’t think were beautiful, or that compared to someone else, they would be more beautiful than her.

So when someone called her beautiful, the feeling that it gave her was only temporary, the insecurities of it all flooding back in to strip it away. But when Robin wrote the words, it was the first time she heard someone say it and believed it. It’s not to say that the other people who called her beautiful were wrong, or didn’t make her feel that way. It’s just when Robin wrote it, it felt more real. 

The thing about Robin is that she’s honest. Nancy only saw her lie one time, and even then there was truth to it. Just the wrong truth for the moment. And then, the lie was needed, was necessary to accomplish a goal. It was so much different than other lies. There was something both of them gained and ultimately, no one was really hurt by it. Mildly inconvenienced, maybe, but not hurt. 

Maybe that’s why it feels more real. Robin hasn’t lied to Nancy, not yet, and she has the feeling that she won’t ever. Or at least, not in the way that people have lied to her in the past. Hurt her, misled her. But then, she hurt and misled them too. So maybe it’s because neither Robin nor Nancy has lied to each other yet that the compliment finally sticks. 

Or maybe it’s something completely different, but that leaves Nancy with more questions than answers. So she’ll take the compliment for now and walk away, feeling more confident in herself than normal and not knowing why.

. . . 

Robin fucked up, she knew she fucked up. It’s almost the end of the day and Nancy hasn’t written a note back to her. She overdid it, the comment was too much. She should have just thanked Nancy and moved on, there didn’t need to be anything else. 

But it was so easy. The in was there waiting for her on a silver platter and she took it. It was too easy to pass up. It’s what girls do all the time, don’t they? Get a compliment and then return it the same way. Like “Oh thank you, you’re so pretty too.” That’s the normal response to a compliment, right?

Even then, Nancy’s first compliment wasn’t exactly normal. Going out of her way to write a note dedicated to just how good you looked that day. Was that normal? Was that just Nancy being nice? Was Robin reading into this? Yes, yes she was. 

It’s easy to read into something where the space between the lines is nonexistent. It could have been a sentence at the end of a normal letter. “Oh, by the way, Robin, I saw how you looked today and wanted to say that I really like your outfit. It looks great on you and makes you look more awake. Which yay, sleep.” That’s so easy, that’s normal talk. Robin can do normal talk

But no, Nancy didn’t write that. She wrote out, by hand, that Robin was beautiful.

Robin’s never been called beautiful by someone like Nancy. Her parents and family members, sure but that meant nothing. Guys trying to hit on her not realizing she’s not interested, yes. But none of that was like this and none of that made her feel like this did. None of those times filled Robin with unimaginable warmth and made her want to scream into a pillow. None of those times made her feel it. 

There is something unbelievable about the words from someone held so dear to the other’s heart. It makes them feel important, seen. Nancy’s words hit differently because they weren’t said because they’re family or hoped to get in her pants. They were said because they were believed. Nancy noticed something about Robin from just passing through the hall. So either Robin was really looking like a complete mess every day or Nancy just knew. From one small glance, she knew that Robin had the best sleep possible and woke up feeling like her old self again. Away from the nightmares and the trauma, just Robin being Robin. And Nancy complimented that. 

So when the opportunity presented itself, how could Robin not return the favor? How could she not admit the thought that’s been ringing around her mind since the first note was slid into her locker? Nancy was beautiful, inside and out, how could Robin not tell her that? 

But she did it too much. She should have just left it at the greeting and said that she was just giving it back. But no, she couldn’t just leave it at that. She had to add that anyone with eyes would see that Nancy was beautiful, that she thought Nancy was beautiful. If Nancy read it the way she wrote it, she would know that the eyes that were mentioned were her own. And since she hadn’t received another note since then, that was all that Robin was left to think. 

She thought that saying it and talking about Steve would push focus away from the true meaning of what she wrote, but she guesses that was wrong. 

. . . 

Every time Nancy goes to write a response, she ends up with something stupid. So she erases it and starts over again until there are holes in the page. Tossing the useless paper into the trash, she curses herself for being like this. 

This isn’t normal, not for her. Not with Robin. Talking was easy, but now it’s so hard that Nancy can’t even find one right word to say. It should be simple. Just thank Robin for the compliment and move on, talk about something else. Maybe invite her over to her house for a movie night or something. Just anything to get her and Robin in the same room again, to chase that feeling of being close to someone again. 

To get lost with someone. Feel the incredible warmth that comes from someone who cares for you deeply. Let the moment wrap around like a hug and wish that the person’s arms were around you instead. 

Nancy shakes her head, getting up from her seat and walking to the bathroom. These thoughts weren’t real, they couldn’t be. She just had a late night last night, that’s all. The fact that these were the same thoughts that were keeping her up at night was irrelevant. Robin is her best friend, so that’s why those feelings were there. It had to be. 

Turning on the faucet, she lets the cold water run, just staring at it for a second before cupping some and splashing it on her face. If she was going to make it through the day, she needed to get focused. Just write the next note so Robin doesn’t feel like she’s avoiding her and then go home. Then she can freak out, even though she won’t because there’s nothing to freak out about. 

“Oh, hey, Nancy,” Robin casually says when she comes out of the stall, walking up to the sink next to Nancy.

“Hey. Sorry I haven’t given you another note yet. I know I normally have another one done by this time but I haven’t really had time to write it yet.”

Robin shrugs. “Things come up, I get it. You … you didn’t think I was being weird in the last note, did you? Cause I promise everything was innocent, just wanted to return the compliment and all.”

“Yeah. No, yeah. It was fine, I appreciated it, actually. Wasn’t weird at all.” Nancy swallows, hoping that maybe saying it out loud would make her believe it. 

“Ok, good. I appreciated yours too. Kinda nice to know someone noticed, you know. After all we’ve been through, I didn’t think I’d be able to feel like myself again for a while. So the fact that you noticed it too, made me really happy.” Robin looks at her, smiling and suddenly Nancy can’t breathe. 

“Yeah, your’s did too.”

Suddenly, Robin reaches across and plucks something off of Nancy’s shirt. The soft brush of her fingers sent electricity down Nancy’s arm. “There was a hair,” she says softly. 

Nancy clears her throat. “I should probably head back to class. I’ll talk to you later though, ok.”

“Yeah ok. See you later Nance.”

Her heart is beating out of her chest when she returns to her seat. As she turns her attention back to the lecture, she wills it to stop. Wills the warms of Robin’s brief touch to leave her soul. Prays for the thoughts to stop racing around her mind. Doing what she does best, she pushes them away into a little box and goes back to normal, just knowing that this box will unlock itself again the next time she sees Robin. 

. . . 

My friend Robin,

I noticed something when we were in the bathroom earlier. I don’t have a nickname for you. Not that I need one or anything. You just called me Nance and I know everyone pretty much calls me that but I still like it. 

I was just wondering if there’s a name that you like people to call you other than Robin. I think I’ve heard Steve call you Rob sometimes but I didn’t know if that was just a you two thing or if other people call you that too. Maybe I’m overthinking the whole purpose of a nickname, but whatever. 

Would you want me to call you Rob sometimes? Or how about Robbie? There are not many nicknames for Robin I guess. Or if you don’t really want me to, I can just keep calling you Robin. Just was curious. 

Your friend, 

Nance 

Robin tries to ignore the way that the greeting stings, but she can’t help it. It hurts being called just a friend after the letters they exchanged just that morning. But those were friendly interactions. She has to keep reminding herself that, and every time it hurts more than the last. 

She promised herself that this wasn’t going to go far enough to hurt her this time, but Nancy was making that incredibly hard. 

. . . 

My dear friend Nance,

I don’t really have a lot of specific names that people call me. Steve does call me Rob sometimes and Eddie started calling me Birdie for some reason. Something about my name being a bird’s name, therefore I am a bird. Which I am clearly not but he’s weird so whatever. 

So you can pick anything really. Whatever you want. I did kind of like Robbie though, that’s one that no one’s ever called me before. So if you liked it, then I liked it. I really don’t care that much though.

Interested to see what you will choose, 

Robin 

Nancy doesn’t respond again before the day ends. Mainly because she was running from her last class to her car just to get home, but the reason why is what is bothering her. Ever since meeting with Robin in the bathroom, the only thing that Nancy was looking forward to was going home. Because going home meant going to sleep, which is the reason why she’s feeling the way she is, so tomorrow she’ll wake up normal. And, since it’s a Saturday, she’ll have the whole weekend to fix herself before seeing Robin again. 

If she can go that long without seeing her, that is. That’s the worst part. Even though she’s been feeling weird about everything, she still has the urge to just talk to Robin. It’s unexplainable really. Nancy desperately wants to find the answer, but every time she gets close to thinking what it is, the panic sets in and it’s left unanswered. 

When she gets home, she notices the rental car the Byers have been using parked outside of her house. They’re leaving tomorrow so El and Will have been over a lot. It’s a lot for Mike to go through again. He and El are going through some sort of rough patch, she’s not sure if they’re even still together. But that doesn’t matter, the two people he’s closest to are moving across the country again. That’s hard. 

The first time they moved away, Mike and Nancy talked a lot about missing them. They had a lot in common, having their partners living so far away from them and how hard it was. It was the closest they were for a while.

Jonathan steps out of the car when Nancy pulls in, walking up the drive while she pulls her backpack out of the backseat. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to act like this isn’t awkward. 

“Hey.”

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I guess. Felt weird not to, even after anything.”

Nancy gives him a small smile. “I wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“I, uh, I can send back some of your stuff when I get back if you want.”

“You don’t have to, you can just give it to me when you guys come back.”

Jonathan scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, ok. I’m uh, I’m sorry for snapping at you last time. I was just, getting over it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I was too.”

“What I’m trying to say, I guess. Is that I’m more over it now, so if you wanted, we could try to be friends again.”

A weight relieves itself from Nancy’s chest. “I would like that.”

The front door opens as Mike, El, and Will exit the house, talking quietly amongst themselves. “Our flight changed, we’re leaving tonight instead of tomorrow.”

“How are they?” Nancy asks and they start to say their goodbyes.

“As well as you could think. I wish we could stay but Mom didn’t want to have us transfer twice in one year. But it’ll only be a few more months.”

“And how are you, really? I didn’t mean for this to happen the way it did.”

Jonathan sighs. “I didn’t either. But, if I’m being honest, I think I would have ended it if you didn’t. Just didn’t want to believe it.”

“I didn’t either.”

“We should get going.”

“Would it be weird if I hugged you?”

He laughs. “I don’t think so.” Nancy opens her arms and hugs him goodbye, as friends this time. “Thank you for being my first love, Nancy.”

“Thank you for letting me be. Have a good time in California, ok.” 

Jonathan smiles. “I will.”

Nancy walks up to the doorstep, waiting for Mike while he finishes up saying goodbye. The hurt that she felt the last time she saw Jonathan faded away, now all that’s left is peace. A part of her will always love him, and she thanks him for that. But now that love is as a friend. They still care for each other, but differently. 

Mike watches as they drive away, only walking back to the house when they’re out of sight. Nancy tries not to notice the dried tear stains down his cheeks. “You, ok?”

“No. I feel like I just got them back and now they're leaving again.”

Nancy pats his shoulder. “They’ll be back, just a few more months.”

“That’s almost worse somehow.” 

“You’ll get through it, I know you will,” she says as they enter the house. 

Hours later, Nancy stares at her ceiling, feeling weird again. That moment in her bathroom replayed in her mind, pushing away sleep. It shouldn’t have bothered her, it shouldn’t be keeping her awake. But like the library, Robin captivated her. But this time it was different, amplified. 

This time Robin touched her. Just faintly but the slight brush of her fingers was enough to send a bolt of electricity that radiated through her body. It was enough to make her freeze and enough to leave her wanting more. Whatever more was. 

Nancy hasn’t really touched Robin a lot at all. They definitely haven’t hugged yet, not like that was a requirement or anything. She remembers grabbing Robin’s hand when they were running out of Pennhurst, and Robin had grabbed hers right before the Creel house. But those were different, those were normal. Out of urgency or comfort. But now, Nancy can’t help to wonder what it would be like outside of those circumstances. 

She wonders what it would be like if Robin were lying next to her now, warming the cool sheets. Just the thought of feeling her presence alone spreading warmth over Nancy’s skin. Wondering if the space between them would become smaller, and their arms would become tangled together. Would they share secrets in the dark, only for the other to hear? Would they fall asleep knowing that they were safe in the other’s embrace? 

No, she thinks, shaking the thoughts out of her head. That won’t happen, because that’s not what’s meant to happen. But thinking back to the way that Robin makes her feel, she can’t help but go on the same loop all over again. 

Nancy isn’t stupid. Deep down she knows that this isn’t something that any normal person wants. Or a normal straight person at least. The thoughts, the beating of her heart, the flush that seems to form on her face whenever she hears Robin’s voice. Those were beyond the line of friendship and into the realm of attraction. 

But Nancy can’t want that. She is straight. There’s never been an instance before this where she’s ever wanted something with another woman. Then again, maybe she was just never attracted to another woman. But she still likes men. The love she had with Jonathan was real, the attraction she had to Steve was real. There were other crushes in her past that were real too, none of them were faked. She wasn’t faking it then, and she isn’t faking it now. 

There’s a word that she heard somewhere that someone used to describe liking both genders, but she can’t remember it. Looking it up could be easy, but she can’t help but feel like she doesn’t need to. Because there’s no way that this was actually something that she wanted. This was just confusion because of the lack of being in a relationship. Just looking for the feeling wherever it came from and enhancing it to be something more than it is. 

After today, she is sure that she is over Jonathan. It feels weird saying that about someone she’s spent years of her life with. Especially since it’s only been a few weeks since their official break. But a part of her knows that she was already getting over him before she called it quits, the distance making it easier to start cutting the ties early. It’s a sad thing to think about, but it’s true. 

And there’s another part of her that knows that a new relationship wouldn’t be pushed away. It wouldn’t be welcome, maybe not all at once. But if she really liked someone, then maybe after getting to know them, they could start something. 

The only problem is that whenever she thinks of who that person could be, there’s only one face that shows up in her mind. And it’s the one face she’s so sure it can’t be. 

. . . 

There’s music playing, soft and in the background. Something unnoticeable but comforting. The air is warm and inviting as someone peppers kisses along Robin’s jaw. Soft hands run up and down her arms before a hand finds its way to her hair, fingers tangling into it. Her lips return to someone else's, slotting together with ease. Tongues pressing together as it becomes impossibly deep. Robin’s own hands travel down the back of this person, sliding underneath the hem and sliding against smooth, warm skin. The person moans into Robin’s mouth, pulling her closer. 

The picture flashes forward, positions changing and clothes being thrown across the room. Red marks on necks and wandering hands. Impossibly soft skin presses against hers and their bodies slide together. Soft moans as Robin kisses down the person’s neck while her hand travels lower, lower. 

“Robin,” the person moans, grabbing her head and bringing her back up for a kiss. Pulling away, Robin’s eyes meet the mystery person. Blue familiar eyes meet hers, blinking up at her. 

“You’re so pretty,” she whispers, pushing away the brown curly hair stuck to the girl's cheek. Stuck to Nancy’s cheek, she realizes. 

Robin wakes up, eyes flinging open with the realization of what just happened. She sits up and turns on her lamp, refusing to chase the warmth and fall back asleep. She takes a deep breath, trying to think of anything other than Nancy to think about, ignoring the warmth in her core. 

“This can’t be happening,” she whispers to herself, hugging her knees close to her chest. 

She can’t help but feel guilty, even though she knows that there was nothing she could have done to stop it. It was a dream, and dreams can’t be controlled. But a part of her wanted the dream to continue. Part of her mind is still there, and her body is still reacting, wishing that she continue it. Wishing that Nancy was really here. 

The line was crossed, there was no way that Robin could deny it to herself anymore. There was no way in the world that Robin was having these thoughts and not having feelings for Nancy. She knew it was a crush, but then it was harmless. Now it’s not. 

Now is when the loneliness kicks in and the unbearable urge to act on her feelings. The hopelessness that comes with knowing that Nancy can’t, and won’t ever reciprocate these feelings. The same thing will just happen over and over again. Robin will keep seeing Nancy because it’s too good to give up, and then end up in this same position, crying herself to sleep. Dreams will keep coming and she’ll keep waking up alone. 

Want. Robin’s never experienced this form of want before. Her other crushes were more manageable, they were less personal. She had admired more from afar than she did up close. Now, there were bonds, secrets, friendship. Knowledge of what Nancy was like and that she knew Robin too. Fantasies easy to create because of how close they are. False hope created by Robin misinterpreting what was only meant to be a friendly gesture. 

Tears start to fill her eyes as reality slips in. There’s no out from this, no lie that will make her believe this was just a stupid dream. Because it wasn’t. It was fueled off of fleeting thoughts that Robin had and shook away before they had taken root. Wondering how soft Nancy’s hair was and feeling the small amount of contact they'd had filling her body with warmth. Getting lost in her gaze and letting her eyes flick down to her lips just once, just to see. 

The fall was crushing, worse than anything she’s ever felt. Robin’s never been in love, but this is the first time where she actually thinks she might be able to. 

Seeking comfort, she reaches out and grabs the phone. When it gets picked up, she doesn’t wait a beat before blurting out, “I like Nancy.”

And after a second of silence, Steve simply says, “I’m coming over,” before hanging up the line. 

[empressofthesunwriter]

Kill La Hero: 20

In the lottery of Quirk’s Michi got on really special and annoying one. A living, sarcastic ribbon named Ares, who puts her into superpowered revealing outfits. But this won't stop the girl from fulfilling her dream of being a hero! Just watch her!

(But not too closely please!)

MHA MEETS KILL LA KILL!

Hello, my loves!

I finally watched the Movie Two Heroes and I loved it :D

So the movies will be added to the fanfic too, I have Two Heroes and the newest on DVD I just need Heroe Rising I think?

So yeah, I hope you like my decisions.

Also, I already draw Michi in her clothes for Two Heroes take a look at Deviantart or Wattpad ^^

Also, I admin this is probably my weakest chapter but Michi and Ares are so powerful it didn’t make sense to make a long fight with Stain and I wanted this chapter out as soon as possible.

Maybe one day I will rewrite it.

Anyway!

Now on with the story!

Chapter 20: Hero Killer

26/12/24

Changed after some comments at the end, please read!

Hopefully, it breaks my Writer's Block and I can write again.

(*)

Sooner than the young heroes-to-be know the day of the workplace field training arrives.

Aizawa-Sensei is at the station to escort them safely to their workplaces.

All are packed for a week and have even their hero customs with them.

"You all have your costumes, right? Remember, you aren't allowed to wear them in public.", reminded Aizawa-Sensei. "Don't drop them or anything."

"Yessir!"

"Speak clearly! It's "yes, sir," Ashido."

"Yes, sir..."

"Make sure you mind your manners with the heroes at your internships! Off with you, now."

"Yes, sir!", chorsed the whole class.

Some already got moving, while others had things to clear before they could go.

Izuku, Michi, and Ochaco raced after Tenya, who was on the way to the terminal in Hosho.

"Tenya!", called Izuku. "If you ever feel hopeless, let us know."

"You can tell us anything.", added Michi. "This is a judgement-free zone."

Ochaco nodded in agreement.

"We're friends, right?", said Izuku.

During the whole conversation, Tenya didn't even turn around to face them, but when he answered with a soft yeah he finally looked at them.

The bad feeling in Michi's stomach just got worse.

The look in Tenya's eyes was so strange!

Their friend left them and the three looked at each other lost.

"Well, I have to join Shoto-San.", signed Michi. She hugged first Ochaco, then Izuku. "Have an awesome time at your internships."

"You to Michi-Chan!"

"Stay in contact, Michi-Kun."

"Of course, I will send you text messages!"

With a last wave, she joined Shoto, who had waited a bit further away from them.

"Ready to go Michela-San?", asked Shoto.

She nodded.

"Let's go Shoto-San."

(*)

Michi read a book about Greek Mythologies and Shoto was staring out the window of the train.

Soon they would reach their internship place.

The agency of the number two hero Endeavour, also known as Shoto piece of human dumpster fire father.

When Michi saw a few days ago how Endeavour offered her an internship, she was conflicted.

She didn't want to do anything with such a vile human being, however, he was the Number Two!

The second strongest hero and also the one with the most solved case.

She and Ares would be stupid if they didn't learn from him.

Even if he was a human dumpster fire!

At least Shoto was with them.

They would have each other back and Michi hoped they could become friends.

Already there was a lot of respect on both sides.

"Michela-San?"

"Yes, Shoto-San?"

"Can I ask why you chose my father's agency?"

Michi closed her book and said drily: "Your father is a human dumpster fire, but he IS the number two hero, getting nominated by him is incredible, I think I can learn from him a lot."

Something like an amused smile formed on Shoto lips.

Huh, he was actually quite handsome.

He gave her Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender Vibes. When she was little she had a huge crush on Zuko, before she met Izuku and was ruined for everyone else.

Anyway, Shoto agreed with her and told her he chose his father for the same reasons.

Both silently agreed to be subtle little shits to Endeavor.

He deserved it!

Soon their train arrived at his destinated and they made their way over to Endeavour Agency.

The Number Two Hero waited for them in his office and there was a hungry in his eyes.

He probably thought Shoto would finally bend to his will.

Ha, good luck with that, dumpster fire!

"Get ready, you two. We're going out."

What already?

"Where? To do what?", wondered Shoto.

"If this incident follows precedent, then the hero killer will appear in Hosu City again. We will go to Hosu for a time on a business trip and work there.", explained Shoto's father, before he called his sidekicks to contact Hosu City.

Surprised Shoto and Michi shared a look.

Then he shrugged his shoulder and she nodded.

They did as Endeavour told them.

(*)

For the first one and a half days, nothing happened in Hosu City.

It was calm.

To calm for Michi's taste.

When they were on patrol she also looked out for Tenya, but she didn't even see a glimpse of her friend.

Maybe she worried so much, yet the feeling that something big was about to happen, didn't leave her.

The night of the second day, chaos broke out in Hosu City.

Something was attacking the city!

Shoto and Michi followed after Endeavour, as their phones told them they got a message.

It was from Izuku!

A map with his coordinates!

The two young hero-to-be started to race towards the coordinates, ignoring Endecover's shouts.

At least Shoto told them to send Pro-Hero to the address.

When Shoto and Michi finally reach the alleyway Izuku sent the coordinates to, their hearts stop for a second.

Izuku, Tenya and a Pro-Hero on the ground, bleeding and a guy with a Katana raising it to kill Tenya!

This must be Stain, the Hero-Killer.

Not wasting time Shoto sends his flames and ice and Michi her Thread Storm.

It gets Stain away from Tenya, but he can dodge their attacks.

"One after another...", growls Stain. "There are a lot of people

getting in my way today."

"Midoriya. You need to give more details in times like this.", says Shoto.

Michi gets her Scissor Blade ready, she got permission to use it before she begins the internship, and adds: "You made us late, Izu-Chan!"

"T-Todoroki, M-Michi you too?", groaned Tenya painfully.

"Why are you guys here...?", wonder Izuku. Shouldn't they be at Endeaover Ageny? "And Todoroki you are using your left side...!"

"Izu-Chan really? You sent us a random location, this is not you, so it meant you were in trouble. So Shoto-San and I came as fast as we could to help. Don't worry the Pro's will be here soon.", explained Michi.

Shoto uses his ice to lift up the injured and slide them closer and away from Stain. Both promise to protect the other and not let them get killed by Stain.

Izuku warns them about Stain's quirk, they can't get cut or they will be immobilized like them, while Michi runs up to Stain.

"Shoto-San give me cover me!"

"On it, Michela-San!"

Michi attacks with her Scissors Blade and Stain contours with his Katana.

They engage in a fast sword fight, as Shoto shoots his ice and fire before Stain can even cut Michi.

This girl...she is good with her weird sword and with the boy backing her up...this could be interesting.

"Why are you three...Why...Please, stop!", cries Tenya. "I've inherited my brother's name. I have to do it...That guy's mine...!"

Shoto answers him since Michi is too busy sword-fighting with Stain. "You inherited it? That's strange. The Ingenium I saw before didn't have that face, though. You've got a lot going on behind the scenes in your family, too, huh?"

Meanwhile, Stain and Michi clash their sword against each other, trying to overwhelm the other.

"You are good, girl, I give you that!", tells Stain. "But not as good as me!"

Fast he jumps away and throws a knife at Michi.

She just stands coldly there as the knives reach her...and bounce off of her!

"What?! How is this possible!"

"My suit may look flimsy but it's harder than any known substance!", smirks Michi.

This shocks Stain so Michi takes the opportunity.

"Ares let's do it!"

"On it Michi!"

Together they shout: "Sciccor Blade, Decaption Mode!"

The blade gets bigger and Michi runs up to Stain.

Like Mei had told her, all his clothes get cut away and with it, even all his weapons fall on the floor.

Naked Stain twirls in the air, before he lands hard on the ground knocked out.

"So much for the Hero-Killer.", huffs Michi and returns her Scissor Blade to normal.

"Who the heck is this girl, she beat him in what a minute?!", shouts the Pro-Hero.

"Only Class 1A strongest Quirk User and winner of the Sports Festival.", explains Shoto drly.

Michi binds Stain with her threads before she helps Izuku up.

"Izu-Chan all good?"

"Yeah, thanks to you, Mei Scissor Blade is amazing!"

Shoto helps the Pro-Hero and Tenya up.

The Not-Couple listens to how Shoto tells Tenya he understands his resentment and hunger for revenge against STain, but it is not him.

Izuku and Michi agree and tell him they are sorry they hadn't been better friends for him, they should have known better.

Tenya just cries and admits he really lost sight of what it meant to be a true hero.

He would do better from now on.

In the distance, you could hear how people ran up to them.

(*)

Never in her life did Michi feel this fear.

How...How?

How could STain with his pure will destroy her and Ares's indestructible threads?!

It shouldn't be possible and yet it was!

He saved Izuku from the Nomu, for she would always be thankful to him, however never felt the young girl such fear.

Did he underestimate her and that's why Ares and her could apprehend him?

It seemed the only logical conclusion.

After this, Stain falls unconscious, still standing up.

What a terrific vision!

This would haunt Michi and all the others who saw it for long, she was sure.

In the end, the four teenagers were admitted to the hospital.

Yes, even Michi, they didn't care how she said she was not injured, she had to stay the night.

So all four shared a hospital room.

They all talked the whole night, barely sleeping.

It helped to talk.

Tenya seemed again to be his normal self.

He swore from now on to be a better hero.

Then they fell asleep as the sun slowly rose.

Since Michi was the least with injuries, she was about to be dismissed as the Police Chief wanted to talk to them.

As it turned out they did something illegal apprehending the Hero-Killer without a license, but if they agreed to tell the public it was Endeavor who won over Stain, they had nothing to worry about.

Had they really a choice?

After this was out of the world, Michi hugged and kissed Izuku goodbye and even Tenya and Shoto got a hug.

The girl joined up with Endeavour to continue her internship.

She hoped the rest of it would be much calmer.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update March 1, 2024

I’m not doing the best this week but I’m also not doing the worst. I’ve not been sleeping well and I think it’s culminating today so slightly early update post just in case I fall asleep early tonight. I’ve had on and off moodiness and flareups but not a whole lot of surgery sickness, hoping next week will be the same. I think this week was a lot of semester stress, which makes it hard to take care of myself. I just ate three applesauces and next week is spring break, so I should have a bit of breathing room for more art stuff. Just in time for my art block to maybe be giving way. All I gotta do is get caught up on sleep, which I’ll try to start tonight.

So I’ve been trying to put more brain power into actual Oc story writing stuff this week. I have the little comic I’m working on in the background and that’s going a bit slower than I’d like but I’m still making progress and reviewing over it there’s fewer older pages needing redo than I’d thought. I’m also now officially through the second act of the episode/chapter/ w/e, so the third should move smoothly. Scenes are flowing nicer than I thought they would, generally going pretty good.

I also finally think my animation art block is giving way. Clip studio is good for flowier animation so I’d like to combine it with flash for any actual big animation projects I try to pick up but on it’s own it’s fine for smaller ones. I might do some more sketch style test animations for unfamiliar movements, and eventually I’ll need to do a test for one with lineart and color layers. The interface is not user friendly at all but I did figure out how to do it the way I had wanted. Not planning on doing any shaded animations though, shading will have to be done with after effects somehow. I’ll round up ideas for test animations tonight because I’m very headfoggy today so I doubt I’ll be able to throw music together.

I’ll definitely do a quick little gif for the bigger song I finished, I’ll try to get going on the next one, but for the time being I might finish up some half baked covers. I’ve fiddled with vocaloid more now, have two half finished vocal parts I’m using to test out how the English and Japanese banks work with English songs. Japanese bank is working better than I thought, but it’s annoying having to play with the dynamic and exciter settings for certain consonants, and the limited vowel selection also sucks, but it’s not like the English banks have basically the same issues too. I just need to play with settings a bit more, finish writing out the vocal parts (should basically be copy paste at this point, I’m already through one chorus of each), and throw together instrumentals to go with them, but I picked songs with simple instrumentals anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get a skeletal structure ready, then I can fill it in with piano or violin because I can’t go two songs without either I’m addicted.

Music comic and animation are the main things I did this week but I am slowly getting my updated commission sheet together. I’ll probably start timing myself on smaller songs so I can try to add music options properly. Animation comms would be nice too but that’ll definitely be a ways off.

I did make unexpected progress writing an epithet TTRPG campaign, it’s like mostly structured, but maps minis and some encounters still need to get written. I might sit down to do that over break. I’m more certain now that I’ll need to take people online as players but I’ll wait until I’m closer to run before I make a google form for that

I’m going to try to either spend tonight with friends or go to bed early or both. I’m a bit worried about my body because flareups have been getting bad but tomorrow I don’t have to move my legs at all beyond doing laundry so I should be fine. If plans for both fall through I’ll either watch a movie or cartoon (I don’t do very often but if I indulge in media I can improve my writing skills) or draw or both. Tomorrow is walled off for homework though I don’t think I’ll be able to do much else.

[merge-conflict]

word search tag game

Tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo Couldn't resist turning this one around quickly - I love doing these because I get to search not one but two badly organized scrivener projects and then try to remember what the hell I was working on and how long ago.

Anyway, content warning for some suggestive/sexual content under the cut, but nothing explicit.

privacy (I used to carry you home)

For two weeks [V] had been waiting for this moment, and it took a considerable amount of self control not to bare her teeth in the elevator and unsettle the other occupants any more than they already were. There was a gentle warning pulsing in her notifications, advising her to avoid unnecessary stress. She practiced her box breathing until the car slid to a stop on her floor and she exited into a cloud of frantic misery so thick it made her teeth itch. Oh how she had missed this!

Everything was falling into place at once, her limbs strong and steady, her head clear, and anticipation fluttering in her lungs. Johnny would have hated the bold clean lines of the architecture, the cramped conference rooms, the cubicles that gave not a single pretext of privacy– but she was so glad to see it she could have cried. There were plenty of threats here, to be sure, but she knew the shape of all of them, and if she was going to cheat death she wanted to do it somewhere climate-controlled. She cut through the atrium like a blade through water, drawing attention in her wake without turning to see it.

claim (old WIP)

Let Abernathy watch as V took him, played with him, staked her claim. Perhaps it would finally wipe the superior smile from her face as V interlaced her fingers with his, responding to his warning with vigor that would take him right over the edge. Surely she could not contain herself when he pulled V into his lap, kissed her deeply, submitted himself to her good-natured teasing–

“Takemura?”

Abernathy was looking at him now, one eyebrow raised. Someone must have asked him a question, and he wasn’t entirely sure who it had been. He avoided looking at V.

“Forgive me, Director,” he said, unhurriedly. “My attention was on another matter.”

It was embarrassing in the extreme, to have been caught out in a childish daydream, and unforgivably rude to have lost focus during a meeting he was nominally a part of. But his colleagues seemed ready to believe he had been fielding some important request, and he saw no reason to correct the assumption.

suspicion (old WIP)

The meeting started late, as it usually did, as it followed some other weekly meeting for the operational managers which was held three floors away. [Goro] had a suspicion Abernathy had planned it that way on purpose, so that most of her reports were left scrambling, entering a meeting with their department head left waiting. Sometimes she liked to single them out as they came in, throwing them directly into the spotlight to begin.

But it had been a quiet week, and Abernathy seemed to be in a good mood. There was plenty of old business to discuss, none of it requiring his direct attention. His presence, like the increased security within all levels of the tower, was as much a reminder to keep in line, as it was anything else. CounterIntel had one of the lowest turnover rates of any local department, but as Hanako-sama had reminded him, that was not necessarily an indication of loyalty. The skills they used to foil and track Arasaka’s enemies could just as easily be turned against the company.

V spoke very little in the meeting, except to prompt for clarification, a talent she sometimes wielded brutally– backing reluctant execs into a corner until they admitted their failures. Less frequently she would call attention to an idea, unfolding it to be put on display, giving praise without ever uttering a compliment. She was, as she had told him, Abernathy’s right hand– a role which seemed to primarily consist of controlling the flow of the meeting, as Abernathy herself remained distant until her judgment or direction was required. It was a far cry from their internal meetings, where the two fought as often as they agreed, and V had pitched most of the plans that Abernathy spoke about as if they were her own.

flush (when her edges soften)

There was an intermission before the next pair came out, and V got up without speaking to [Johnny], leaving only her jacket as a thin sort of reassurance that she’d be back. He drained his drink and wondered whether he should be concerned about whatever shit she had planned. All he could think about was her chasing down his sloppy seconds. Fuck. He’d just start to think he’d let her make the next move, and then she’d say something like that. If whatever fucked mind game she was playing wasn’t the most fun he’d had in ages he might have taken a swing at her himself to start.

“You keep drinking like that, you're going to go soft.” V pulled her chair out, so that it was no longer flush with his own, leaving half his right leg hanging over the edge.

chords/chord

none!

There's a lot of folks tagged in this already, so I don't want to overwhelm anyone- although rest assured I love to read people's writing so if you wanna use these words or just share your work and tag me please do. :3 (Pls rec your own work honestly I have some uninterruptible reading time coming up and I need to start downloading all y'all's fics off ao3)

[sillyrabbit81]

Heart Of The Matter

Summary: A few weeks after you and Sy break up, you show up on his doorstep determined to win him back.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 8k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, couples fighting, smut, some angry sexual contact, slight praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (male), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, some fluff at the end.

Authors Note: This took a lot longer to write than I had anticipated. I've had a rough week in my personal life and truely, the angst and the making up of this ended up being pretty therapeutic.

As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed and @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.

Edited by me, there will be errors

Thanks to the Anon who sent in this prompt, I hope you enjoy it.

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Looking in the rear vision mirror, you rub your sweaty hands on your jeans before running them over your hair, checking that it’s still in place. It’s dark, you can barely see and the streetlights are not sufficient to check your makeup, but you try to look anyway. You’re also stalling.

“Fuck it.”

Steeling yourself, you draw on every last bit of courage you have and get out of your car. You close the door as quietly as you can manage, and wince as you lock the doors and the headlights flash.

You pull your v-neck down over your hips then stick your hand in your bra and reposition your tits. Your shake your head and ask yourself for the millionth time, What the fuck are you doing? 

You should have worn something else, something a bit less provocative because you know he’s going to know exactly what you’re trying to do.

Drawing in a deep calming breath, you straighten your shoulders and walk to the door you haven’t knocked on in three weeks. You start confident, but with each step your will seems to wane and by the time you climb the few stairs to his porch, your knees are trembling and your hands are shaking.

The moment your foot hits the timbre decking the porch light comes on and you are momentarily blinded.

Fuck. 

You had forgotten about the sensor light.

You’re frozen in place, unsure whether to keep going or run back to the car. As you agonise over your decision, a dog lets out a low growl and you gasp.

Shit. 

“Shhh, Aika,” you take the remaining steps to the door and whisper, “It’s only me, girl.”

Her growl turns into a playful bark, and you can see in your mind's eye the way she’s probably sitting with her tail wagging enthusiastically.

“Aika! Hush,” you say a little louder, but she ignores you and barks again, then you can hear her scratch at the door. 

Fuck. 

You aren’t ready.

If Sy wasn’t already aware that there was someone on his porch, there is no doubt he knows now; there’s no way he didn’t hear Aika barking. Losing all courage you turn and run down the porch steps like a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime, pulling your keys from your bag, praying you don’t trip in the dark.

You don’t make it far when you hear your name.

Shit.

You close your eyes, grit your teeth, plaster a smile on your face and turn around.

Immediately you want to close your eyes again and you thank every God you have ever heard of that Sy was too far away to hear the whine that forced its unwelcomed way up your throat. Wearing only light blue jeans, they weren’t even done up, he fills the doorway with his bulk and stands like Adonis with his bare chest puffed out and his arms crossed.

You avert your eyes as you climb the steps again, concentrating on Aika. She’s sitting just like you thought she’d be, tail wagging and everything. She makes you smile, you had missed her, and as if your smile is a sign, she bolts through Sy’s legs. You giggle, as she stands at the top of the porch steps and you reach out to give her a pat.

“Aika,” Sy calls sternly.

For a second Aika seems torn, looking from you to Sy, then back to you. He grimaces then purses his lips to make a kissing noise and calls her back. Aika takes one more look at you before she runs back into the house between Sy’s legs.

Biting your lip you finally raise your eyes to look at him. The look he gives you makes your guts churn. He doesn’t appear pleased to see you, not one bit. 

You feel like such an idiot.

You clear your throat to greet him, but he speaks first.

“Sugar,” he says in a husky voice, somehow managing to make your old pet name feel like an insult in his mouth, “What do you want?”

“I…” you flounder, licking your lips as you try to collect yourself, “I thought…” 

You try to find the words to explain what you’re feeling, but the eyes that flatly stare back at you aren’t giving you any sign that he wants to hear anything you have to say. His tongue runs over his teeth and he sighs.

Jesus.

He couldn’t make his annoyance any plainer if he tried.

“I just…” you try again. God, this is hard. “Can I come in?” 

You start to climb the steps, but he raises his eyebrows at you and you stop short. He keeps staring at you in a way that makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul, like Anubis weighing your heart after death, deciding whether or not to gobble you up.

He looks at you for so long, you think he is going to say no, then abruptly and without a word, he stands back from the doorway and sweeps his arm out in invitation.

Your throat tightens as you climb the stairs. You keep your eyes on the ground as you walk past him and try not to make a sound as your nose picks up the scent of his spicey soap. You catch a whiff of his woodsy beard oil; it was the same one you had given him for his birthday and then you smile. Maybe it isn’t hopeless after all.

He closes the door behind you and you stand awkwardly in the entryway, still unable to really look at him. His fingers briefly brush your skin as he lifts your bag off your shoulder and hangs it by the door. It was a familiar gesture, one he’d done a hundred times, but this time it made you gulp.

“Want a drink or anythin’?'' he asks. Even while annoyed he is polite, a good host. His mother would be proud.

“Maybe a glass of water,” you say, softly, raising your eyes to find him looking intently at you. 

Sy’s tongue slides swiftly over his bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth and gives you that hard stare again as if he’s trying to read a deeper meaning to your words. 

“Water,” he repeats as he half smiles and you wonder what he finds amusing. He lifts his chin, using it to point to the couch. “Go on, I’ll bring it out.”

Aika is sitting on her blanket, her ears lift as you enter the room. As soon as you sit, she pads over, popping her head on your knee like she used to. You scratch behind her ear, grinning as you watch her tail swish and her hind leg tremble with pleasure.

“Miss you too girl,” you murmur softly. 

Sy comes in with a glass of water and a beer, and he places the water on the coffee table. He looks at the sofa, then over at a single seater and you see his mind working, deciding if he should sit next to you or across the room. He snaps his fingers and points to the blanket and Aika pads away, giving Sy room to sit next to you and he opens his beer. Although you sigh with relief, the crack of the can seems abnormally loud in the awkward silence between you and your anxiety rises until you feel like your heart is going to burst from your chest.

“So,” you say, “how have you been?”

He looks at you a long time before he exhales roughly through his nose and shakes his head. 

“Busy,” he says, waving an arm around the room and for the first time you notice the moving boxes. 

“Right.” 

It’s not that you forgot he is moving, it’s the reason you had the argument in the first place, but you were more focussed on other things. 

“When are you leaving?”

“In a week,” he says.

“Not long then.”

“Nope,” Sy says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. He moves his head side to side as if arguing with himself and his annoyance returns. “I can’t do this,” Sy puts his beer on the table, “Just cut the bullshit, Sugar and tell me what you want. Why are you here?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer, unable to hide your nervousness from him any longer.

“You don’t know,” he says each word slowly, drawing them out. His eyes run over your body and he leans in closer. “I think you know exactly why you’re here.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

“What else,” he asks in a throaty tone that makes your mouth feel dry.

He drops his gaze to your low cut top and he bites his lip. He raises a finger and traces the edge of the fabric, his warm pad leaving your skin feeling scorched to the bone. You feel like you're barely breathing, but you can see how quickly your chest rises and falls beneath his touch.

“I don’t want us to not be on friendly terms.”

“You wanna be friends?” He shakes his head and smirks, his drawling voice is low and as slow as pouring honey as he continues, “You sure about that? Cause from where I’m sittin’ you look like you want somethin’ else.”

“I… I wanted to…”

Sy leans in so close to you, you can smell the beer on his breath. You draw your thighs together as your body thrums. Being so close to him like this is intoxicating and the worst thing is, he knows how he makes you feel; you’ve never been able to hide the effect he has on you when he unleashes the full extent of his potent sexuality. He puts his hand on your neck and his thumb caresses the shell of your ear before he tugs softly on your earlobe.

“You wanna hook up ‘fore I go? Have ourselves one last farewell fuck. Are you here for that?”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, if it wasn’t part of the plan to get him back. You had definitely dressed to get him thinking about it. But you also aren’t planning on it being the last time.

“I still love you, Sy,” you whisper because you can’t catch enough breath to say it any louder.

“Un-fuckin’-beliveable,” Sy says coarsly. He straightens, removes his hand and leans back into the corner of the couch. He’s no longer crowding you and you finally feel like you can breathe again. “It’s too late for that, Sugar.”

“I said I was sorry, Sy. I—”

“Sorry ain’t gonna fix what's happenin’ here, darlin’,” he interrupts with a thin mouth and a shrug, “I still gotta move, ain’t got no choice. You refused to come with me, so that’s it. This is as far as we go.”

“You didn’t even give me a choice. You just sprang it on me.”

“I told you it was a possibility when we started datin’. I told you how it works.”

“But you wanted an answer then and there. You didn’t care that I’d have to see if I could get another job first or find another apartment.”

“I told ya I’d take care of you. I don’t live on base, you could live with me. Take your time finding work if you wanted…” Sy rubs his palm over his head before running it over his face and beard. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna go over all this again. There’s no point.”

“But I…”

“I don’t hate ya, baby,” Sy says, giving you a heartbreakingly spiritless smile, “I wanted to but I can’t. So if that's what you needed to know, well now you know.” Sy stands and adds, “And if that's all, I gotta get to bed.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Things haven’t changed. I’m still bein’ transferred and you’re still not willin’ to come with me so what's the—”

You stand, folding your arms angrily across your chest, and talk over him, “You’re not giving me a chance to explain.”

“To explain or to dig the knife in just that little bit further,” Sy’s jaw clenches as he turns away from you and he slams his mouth shut as though he has more to say and is biting back the words.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” your voice cracks and frustrated tears sting your eyes, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

The tone of your voice makes Sy turn back to you. His eyes are wide and his brows are pinched and raised. 

“I don’t want us to be over,” you sniff, trying to get control of yourself, “I don’t want to lose you, but you’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for without even considering giving anything up yourself.”

Sy’s hands cover your cheeks and he wipes the tears from your eyes. “I tried to tell you, I gotta go where they say when they say it. I told you,” his voice lowers and he softens his expression as he rests his forehead against yours, “that I wasn’t the right man for you.”

“But you are, Sy,” you whisper, “You’re everything I could hope for.”

“But here we are. You’re cryin’ and my heart is breaking cause I can’t do a thing about it.”

“You’re worth crying for.” 

You tentatively rest your hands on his waist. His skin is so warm and so firm that your hands itch too feel the texture of the rest of him. His hands press into your cheeks tilting your head until your noses rub against each other’s.

“I ain’t,” he insists softly.

Your mouths are so close that you breathe in his words and they burn your lungs like acid. How could he think that? How can he not see how much he is worth? And you realise in that moment he doesn’t think he’s worth it because you never showed him he was.

You didn’t choose him.

You wanted to, you still want to. There has to be a way around this. This can’t be the end.

His beard brushes your chin as your arms wrap around his back and letting out a sob, you close your eyes.

“Shh baby,” Sy soothes. His lips brush yours as lightly as a feather while he speaks, “Shh, It’s alright, it’ll be ok, you’ll be ok.” 

His lips are stroking yours, not quite kissing you, but you can feel his silky flesh skimming over yours. He mumbles his reassurances as his hand moves to cradle your neck and his other presses against your back drawing you closer and though your bodies meet, he draws you closer still as if he wants to pull you inside himself, fusing you together until you can no longer be torn apart.

Then abruptly, he loosens his grip and lifts his head. 

“You should go,” he says. He reaches behind his back and removes your arms.

“Why?” you ask, confused by his sudden change in attitude.

He picks up your drink and his beer and you follow him as he goes into the kitchen.

“Why?” you ask again.

“Cause it won’t change anythin’,” Sy says, emptying your glass and pouring out his beer into the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying desperately to hold back your tears, “It hurts Sy, it hurts so much.”

“I know, baby,” he says in a rough voice.

“Can’t we forget Sy? Can’t we forget and have one more night together?”

“It doesn’t have to be our last night, you could still come with me,” he turns to you and takes you in his arms again, “I still want you to.”

You feel stricken, sick to your stomach, “I–”

“Don’t say it again,” he interrupts, raising his fingertips to your lips, “I can’t hear it again.” 

His fingers trail over your lower lip, dragging it down before he reaches your chin and lifts it until you’re looking at his heated blue eyes. His gaze is firmly locked on your mouth and his lips part as he breathing becomes laboured.

“One more night, you’re mine?”

You could drown in his voice, it is so deep and seductive. He seems to tower over you, making you feel vulnerable, but you aren’t scared of the feeling. You’re far too eager to care.

Desperate you nod, “However you want me Sy,” 

He looks torn, reluctant but also hungry. He bites his lips and closes his eyes. His hands slide down your shoulders, his touch achingly gentle and though you’re too scared to breathe, in case he stops touching you, you raise yours to his chest, relishing the feel of his coarse curls beneath your fingers. 

With a frustrated growl Sy reaches for your neck, his huge hand covers your throat as he backs you against the counter, his hips pressing against you. 

His kiss is bruising, punishing as you crash against the counter with a thud, his hands are at your pants and he tears at your button and zip. With viscous impatience he drags your panties and jeans down your thighs. You kick off your sneakers, unwilling to stop kissing him even as his fingers claw into your hips. He lifts you to the counter and strips you of your remaining clothes.

His hand grips your jaw as he steps between your legs. His fingers dig almost painfully into your cheeks as he makes you look at him. Your eyes widen, as he spits on his hand and he opens you up, finding your heat instantly. 

Your eyes slide close and you sigh with relief as he fills you with a finger. Your repose is brief though because he shakes the hand holding your jaw.

“Look at me,” he snarls, “Don’t close your eyes, you look at me.”

You nod as he slides in another finger, and he kisses you with his eyes open.  

“This one is mine. You give me this one more time,” his voice lowers and a dangerous edge creeps in as he adds, “Cause the next time you do this, I ain’t gonna see it,” he kisses you and it's softer, but still not gentle, and he whispers, “It ain’t gonna be ‘cause of me.”

His eyes are glacial fury as he fucks you with his fingers. His look is a stark contrast to the heated reverence that you’re used to seeing. You raise your hand to his cheek, wanting to melt his gaze, wanting to see the warmth he used to have for you. With an aggravated growl, he jerks his head away from your touch.

You flinch, he’s never done that before. His eyes widen and he lets you go. His eyes travel down your body and he follows the path with his hand. Your body quivers, so caught up in the heat of the moment that you don’t care if he hurts you.

You almost want him to.

“Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth. He picks your shirt up and throws it at you. “I can’t, I’m too fuckin’ angry.”

“I don’t care,” you beg, “I’ll take you like this, I’ll take you angry, I’ll—”

“No,” he says, turning his back on you, “Get dressed.”

“You still want me.” 

“No shit.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“This ain’t us, this isn’t what we were. This isn’t…” he shakes his head, his voice is low, emotive, “this isn’t how I love you.”

“Then just talk to me, figure this out with me, please?”

“Put your clothes on.”

Shame fills you. You’re pushing yourself on a man who may be attracted to you, but sure as hell doesn’t want to be with you. Your pride can only stand so much. You take a deep breath, it rattles through your tight throat, but you lift your chin. You tried, you don’t know what more you could do, so you dress as quickly as possible while your whole body trembles trying to hold in your frustration and misery. You can’t look at him as you pull your pants on, but you feel his gaze like you would feel the heat of a bonfire. 

As soon as you slip your shoes on, you start to walk to the door, your pace quickening with each step until you’re practically jogging by the time you’re on the porch. Hot tears are running down your cheeks and you know it’s over.

Even as you’re running across his yard to your car, you’re pulling your keys from your bag. You hear the Sy’s front door bang shut and he calls your name, but you aren’t going back. You have too much pride.

Sy always teases you about being slow, how you’d lose your keys in your bag or how you take twice as long as him to be settled in the car, messing with the radio before putting your seatbelt on. Not this time though. You start to laugh through your tears as you put your car in drive and peel off just as Sy reaches the sidewalk.

You can see his figure in the rearview mirror, mostly in shadow, you can’t make out his features. But you can see his hands are on his head as he slows to a walk and he watches you drive away.

As empty headed as a zombie you crawl into bed a few hours later. You cried on the way home, cried in the shower, cried as you tried to watch a movie to get your mind off Sy, cried as you tried to read. Eventually, you had no more tears, no more energy to focus on negative thoughts and you made it into bed.

Just as your brain gets foggy and the swirling visions of dreams start to overtake you, the shrill of your phone hauls you from your slumber.

In the darkness you reach for the receiver by the bed and numbly mumble a greeting.

“Okay, talk.”

“Sy!” you cry in shock.

It takes you a few beats to make sense of his words. Your mind is suddenly clear, but for the life of you, you don’t know what to say.

When you had gone to his house, you had so many ideas of what to say, but the whole evening had not gone as you had planned. Now, you have no idea where to begin or if he even really wants to hear what you had to say.

But he’s calling you, reaching out to you, asking you to talk. Maybe he isn’t ready to let go either.

“I don’t think you moving means we have to end things,” you start.

There’s a pause, long and deathly quiet.

“Go on,” he says, finally.

“We could treat it like a deployment,” you continue, “We’ve done that before.”

“It’s different,” Sy says dismissively.

“I don’t see why,” you counter.

“‘Cause you can’t come with me when I’m deployed, there’s no choice. You chose not to come with me, that's the difference.”

“Not forever. I didn’t say that. Just for now.”

There’s another long pause before he speaks. “What are you saying?”

“I've only been at this job for twelve months, it's not enough time to really get the experience I need,” you explain, “If I stay for another year, I’ll be able to apply for more jobs. I should be able to get a job near you much easier and without starting from the bottom again.”

“A year?” Sy asks, drily.  “A year?”

“Sy that's nothing in the scheme of things.”

“We had plans,” Sy states without any explanation, but you don’t need any. You know what plans he had; white picket fences, a yard, marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. 

Here it is, the modern woman's question; what's more important, kids, or a career? 

“We did,” you say, carefully, trying to keep your cool, but you feel a ball of frustration growing in your gut, “We also talked about solidifying my career before we went down that road.”

Sy chuckles bitterly, “I see. We’re back to this, we’re always back to this.”

You want what Sy wants, but not with the urgency he seems to want them. You’d be lying to yourself if this isn’t the real reason for your split. This is the crux of why the schism is so deep, of why he refuses to even listen to you when you say you aren’t going to drop everything and move with him.

“You know I…” you shake your head, “I never wanted to have kids, never wanted to get married. That was always what you wanted–-”

“With you,” Sy interrupts, “I wanted that with you… want that with you.”

“And I want that with you,” you say.

“So what’s the fucking problem, Sugar? Just come with me.”

“I want something for myself first, Sy!” The ball of frustration in your gut bursts. “I want to accomplish something for myself before I give it all up for you!”

“See that's the problem. It shouldn’t be for me or for you, it's for us,” Sy growls. “You never think of us. You only ever think in terms of you or me, never for us.”

“That's not true!”

“No?” Sy argues, “Name one thing that's ours, huh? After all these years, what's ours? We don’t even own a plant together for fuck’s sake. Be honest with yourself, you were never committed to this. We were convenient, easy until it wasn’t, cause you ain’t ever had to actually do anythin’.”

“What did you do Sy?”

“Fuckin’ everythin’,” he says, “I put you first with everythin’, you think it was easy for me?”

“Oh you mean you stopped screwing around? Jesus, Sy, you didn’t cheat on me, so that makes you a saint? That’s the bare fucking minimum!”

“You’re fuckin’ joking, right? I changed my career. I made plans, all my plans, around us,” Sy’s voice gets louder, louder than even the last time you fought. “I went Officer for you for fuck’s sake–”

“You went Officer for yourself,” you retort.

“I did it for us, for the money, so we didn’t have to go through this shit, worryin’ about you workin’.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sy. You did it for your ego!”

“Bullshit!” Sy bellowed.

You suck in a breath. He’s never yelled at you before. Ever.

His silence is eerie. 

“Sugar, I… You’re wrong,” Sy says softly now, “You’re so wrong.”

You thought your tears were done, but your chin wobbles and your eyes sting. “I’m going to hang up.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya.” Sy’s voice sounds hoarse, it’s so low you can barely make out the words.

You don’t say anything, you just hum, hoping he takes it as acceptance of his apology.

“I’ll quit,” he says quickly, desperately, “I’ll quit. I’ll do somethin’ else.”

“I can’t let you do that,” you say, trying and failing to keep your voice from wavering, “You’ll end up resenting me. Like I will end up resenting you if I go with you.”

“Why did ya have to come over?” Sy asks, his voice is muffled, so quiet it's like he’s on the other side of the world. Right now, he may as well be. “Why did ya… It don’t matter.”

You want to ask him what he was going to say, but he’s right. It doesn’t matter. 

Sometimes… sometimes there’s no solution.

“It really isn’t going to work for us, is it, Sy?”

“Sugar… God damn. I want it to. So fuckin’ much.”

You sniff softly, wiping at your tears. You’re exhausted, so fucking tired, you can’t keep doing this.

“I’m going to go,” you mumble, your eyes closing as you lay back into the pillows.

“I don’t wanna hang up, Baby.”

You laugh, it's short and you smother it immediately with your hand. You can almost see what Sy’s face would be like in your mind's eye, how he’d draw his brows together and tilt his head, a half smile on his face as he asks…

“What’s got you tickled, Sugar?”

“I just remembered when we first started dating and you’d stay on the phone…” You’re still smiling, but your eyes water and you can’t finish.

Sy hums, you can hear his amusement in his tone. “Wanna stay on the phone until you fall asleep?”

You do. So much. But…

“Please?” you ask.

He hums again, this time it's not as strong, as if the noise got caught in his throat. You hear movement, Sy’s breath gets a little louder for a few minutes before falling into a soft slow rhythm. You think he must have gotten into bed but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to ask.

You fight sleep for as long as you can. You know you don’t last long because it seems like as soon as you close your eyes you open them again and the cordless phone is laying by your side and emitting a long steady obnoxious tone.

Sy’s gone.

You wake before your alarm goes off. You never do that on weekends. You try to roll over and go back to sleep. You just close your eyes when you hear the doorbell.

You think about ignoring it and pull the covers up over your head. Who on earth would be at your door at 6.30am on a Saturday?

No it couldn’t be.

You sit bolt upright and throw the covers back. You don’t even bother putting on a robe and you run to the door.

You pause with your hand on the doorknob and swallow hard. Pulling yourself together as best you can, you peek through the peephole.

Oh my God. It’s him.

With a yelp you throw the door open, your eyes wide as you see him standing there. Your mouth works trying to say something, but you can’t make the words form.

“A year,” he says, simply, “I can wait a year.”

“Sy…”

“Baby…”

Then his arms are around you, drawing you close, his mouth crushing yours so hard you’re sure they’re going to be tender tomorrow, but you don’t care.

Sy lifts his head, walking you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. He holds you close while he raises a hand to smooth down your bed hair, his eyes searching your face, caressing your cheeks, your lips, your brows.

The more he touches you, the more his eyes seem to soften. Whatever intimacy, whatever connection had been lost is coming back. You lift your hand to his cheek, needing to touch him, needing to feel his warmth again. He covers your hand with his as he turns his head and breathes deeply, closing his shining, stormy blue eyes while he kisses your palm. He stays there his lips pressed against your skin, until he releases a long ragged breath.

“Love you so much,” he mumbles quietly, as if talking to himself, “I was such an ass thinking I could let you go.”

Happy tears well in your eyes, he wipes them away as quickly as they fall. “Me too, me too.”

“I want you,” he stresses, “I get so greedy and impatient cause I want all of you. But that's on me. It’s wrong of me.”

“I’ve made you wait a long time, Sy,” you say apologetically.

“You’re worth it. I don’t want any of that other stuff unless it's with you.”

Knowing you don’t have the words to tell him how you feel, you let your actions speak and pull on his shirt, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him softly, slowly, wanting to take your time rebuilding the connection. Although you’d been apart only a few weeks, there has been a shift and you need to ground yourself in each other again.

When you pull away, Sy takes your hand and leads you towards the couch, “I guess we ought to talk about how this is all gonna work.”

Of course Sy wants to work out the logistics immediately, but you have other things on your mind. You shake your head and smirk.

“Later,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and lifting your face to his. 

His nose nudges playfully at yours and you giggle a little as you nudge him back. You close your eyes and press your lips against his. Sy hums, returning your kiss immediately, though he holds back. He lets you take the lead, lets you deepen the kiss when you’re ready, lets you take his hand and lead him to your bed.

Your heart thumps hard in your chest as you lay on your head on the pillows and you can’t stop your thighs from cinching together as Sy crawls up the bed, kicking his shoes off as he goes. He lays on top of you, leaning on his elbows and smirks.

“Are we making up, baby?” Sy asks in a roguishly husky voice. 

“You wanna talk first?” you ask in reply, raising an eyebrow.

Sy slowly shakes his head, his eyes darkening as he grins wolfishly. You had planned to take it slow, to kiss, to reconnect, but deep seeded need takes over and in a rush of tangled and frantic hands, you tear at Sy’s pants while he tears at yours, as if you were racing each other.

Beating him to your goal you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock bringing it half erect out of his barely lowered jeans. His huge body shudders at your touch and he gives up trying to get into your pants as if he's lost all coordination. He drops his head into your neck with a ragged breath and wrapping his arms around you he rolls you both onto your side. 

You close your eyes, feeling him pulse and grow while he puts a hand on your neck and lifts your chin. His breath is hot as he moves his mouth roughly over you, feasting almost viciously on the delicate skin under your jaw as he rocks his hips, fucking your hand.

“Baby,” he growls in your ear before he bites your neck. You gasp and he groans, “Fuck, you touch me so good. Get me so fuckin’ hard.”

“I love touching you,” you murmur, “Love feeling you get hard in my hand.”

He pulls your head down until your foreheads touch and you breathe each other's air. “Wanna fuck ya so bad,” Sy’s voice is thick and deep, “Wanna taste ya. Want all of you.”

Almost frustrated he lifts your hand off him and holds it above your head. Sy’s body presses against yours until you're on your back then he moves between your legs, his size making you spread your legs to accommodate him.

He moves to his knees, hurriedly undressing before he tugs at your shirt and then your pyjama pants, making you raise your legs high before they drop to the mattress again.

He pauses and looks you over, biting on his lip as he shakes his head slowly. You begin to tremble in anticipation, but your eyes are as busy as his, looking from his broad shoulders and perfectly furry chest, to his cock standing unashamedly tall against his stomach. 

“Sy,” you whine softly, silently begging for him to touch you.

He raises his head, his eyes seem to be pleading too as his hand presses against your slit. You inhale sharply as his fingers slide easily over you. You're well and truly wet and ready for him and your core tightens, desperately milking at nothing.

“Please,” you purr weakly.

“You don’t gotta beg baby,” Sy assures you in a dulcet tone, “Just missed looking at ya, is all.” He leans over you, holding his weight on an outstretched arm. “Gonna miss lookin’ at you,” he adds with regret in his voice.

“It’s not going to be easy for me either,” you tell him solemnly. 

The edges of Sy’s lips raise in a small smile. He lowers himself onto his elbow and strokes your hair.

“I know, Sugar. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“I’m sorry I’m not…” you shrug, not sure how to form the thought rolling around in your head, “that I’m not different… That I want—”

“Stop,” Sy interrupts sternly, “You wouldn’t be you if you were different. I wouldn’t love ya so much if you weren’t you.” He kisses your lips and murmurs, “I love your ambition,” he kisses your neck, “I love that you fight for what ya want,” he kisses the tops of your breasts, “I love that you don’t need me,” he kisses your belly, raising his eyes as he says, “and I love that you want me.”

You press your lips together as your throat seems to close up and your eyes sting.

“Sy…” you whisper because you don’t want to cry and ruin the moment. You reach down and run your hand over the velvety hair on his head, as he kisses your hip. “I do want you, so much.”

His eyes are heated as his finger slips inside you. You roll your hips on his fingers and his eyes narrow as he watches you move in a way that makes you feel like a Goddess, like he's never seen anything more enthralling.

“God baby,” he growls, “wanna fucking watch you do this forever.” And for a while he does.

Languidly, he pumps his fingers inside you, laying his head on your thigh he kisses your exposed core, his tongue lightly coaxing your clit from beneath its hood. It's lazy, teasing, seductive and sighing you lay back into the pillows, drowning in the gentle yet overwhelming sensations he brings you. Slowly he builds you to your peak, your thighs tremble as your muscles tighten and scream for release.

“Please Sy,” you beg and he hums in soft acknowledgement. 

“Don’t wanna stop,” he murmurs.

You lift yourself to your elbows and look down at him. He’s laying on his side, languorously stroking his cock as he licks you. You watch him for a while, aware he’s watching you, your body heats, you're burning up and you teeter on the edge.

“Jesus, Sy,” you mumble, “I love watching you do that… make me crazy.”

“Best fuckin’ pussy,” he growls against you, “makes me so fuckin’ hard.”

He groans and lets go of himself, wrapping his arms around your thighs and buries his face deeper into you. Spiralling out of control your hips rock against him, trying to make him go faster, your desperation overtaking every thought and all you can think of is release.

“Sy I’m, I’m… Oh fuck…” 

He hums, voice reverberates in his throat and you feel its vibrations on your clit. He reaches between his legs again, but he’s not jerking off, he’s squeezing the head of his rock hard cock, trying to stop himself from coming. God, he drives you wild.

You cry out as you lose control, your mind blank as you ride out the rolling waves of torrid ecstasy. You’re boneless, weak as Sy climbs over you, pushing inside you as your core is still contracting, the sudden fullness bringing another wave of hot pleasure.

You can barely wrap your arms around him, but you need to. You need to hold him, you need to feel him, his warm skin, his corded muscles, his strength, his desire, his love.

He seems to want to be close to you too, holding you tight beneath him, an arm under your lower back, the other around your shoulders. He moves slowly, barely rolling his hips, the motion a subtle and torturous rocking.

Part of you wants more, you want to feel him for days, but this, this is sublime and rare. It's the way he has you when he knows he’s leaving, when he wants it to last, when he wants you to know not just his lust, but also his love. 

His mouth finds yours, his kiss is soft too, agonisingly teasing. He sucks on your bottom lip, his teeth applying gentle pressure and you arch into him, the torment of his tender touch becomes almost unbearable in its perfection. 

Your caress matches his, light and easy until you can take it no more and your nails dig into his back as you clutch at him, wanting him closer though it’s impossible. You touch him everywhere you can reach, his sculpted shoulders and arms, the roughened skin of his sun tanned neck, the soft bristles of his hair.

As your fingers trace his brows, he lifts his head above yours, the intensity of his eyes takes your breath away as he kisses your hand. The look on his face changes, his eyelids get heavy and his jaw clenches as he drops his head into your neck.

You chase his mouth with yours, his breath is torrid, heavy and laced with quiet groans. His arm leaves your back and he strokes your hair, touching you with such sweet and tender care, your chest tightens and your heart aches.

His thumb wipes under your eye, you didn’t even realise you had started to cry.

“Don’t think about it, Sugar,” Sy murmurs as he moves to kiss your cheek, “Just think about here and now.”

“I almost lost you, I’m so… We’re okay aren’t we?” you whisper, because it doesn’t seem right to say it any louder.

“Hush. I’ve got you now and we’re good. I’m here. You’re here. Just be with me.”

He holds you close and rolls onto his back and sits up. Your mind spins, his strength always surprises you in the best way possible.

Sy’s looking up at you now, grinning wickedly he playfully jerks inside you. You giggle and squirm, but your breath catches he lifts his hips and slides in deeper.

“God, Sy,” you murmur, encircling his neck with your arms.

His hands move up and down your sides, he watches the path of his touch before they settle on your hips and he looks at you. 

“Take me, baby,” he urges, his thumbs rubbing softly against your skin. “I’m all yours.”

You cup his cheeks, letting your fingers sink into his beard, as you rise slowly and dip.

“So good, baby,” he groans, sliding his hands around your ass, lifting you as you rise up, “So fuckin’ good.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

He exhales roughly and puts a hand to your nape and pulls your mouth to his, “I know,” he growls. “And I fuckin’ love you.”

His kiss is lingering, his touch careful, considerate and every caress restrained and deliberate. His hands move over your back in delicate sweeps and across your chest with subtle pressure as he cups the weight of your breasts gently. His mouth is soft and gentle against your tight buds.

You want more, but Sy keeps it slow, so taking matters into your own hands you lean back a bit, resting your hands on his thighs so he hits that spot deep within you. Immediately you feel hotter, your skin burning and your head lull’s back because all you can concentrate on is keeping yourself upright as you grind against him.

“Jesus, baby,” Sy groans, “Fuck me, look at you…”

You lift your heavy head and Sy’s eyes are waiting. Your heart skips a beat at his look, before pounding even harder in your chest. You’ve never felt more beautiful than at this moment.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips, giving it a quick swipe of his tongue. He groans, as he covers your clit, and you feel his touch surge up your spine like lightning.

Losing yourself in the fierceness of his stormy blue eyes you grind against him, climbing once again to your peak. Sweat breaks out across your forehead and chest but it doesn’t bother him as he leans forward licking and suckling at your breasts, muttering soft praises and encouragement.

“That’s it. That’s what I want,” he whispers, “Feelin’ so good.”

He supports your lower back with a large, powerful hand as you lose control as your thighs shake and your arms grow weak. 

“Sy…” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he assures you, “Let go for me.”

His thumb moves faster and presses slightly harder to help you along. Despite how good it feels it almost throws you off-course. He knows you so well, knows exactly how to touch you to get you to fall over the edge and for a moment you’re right back in despair, thinking about how you almost lost him. It's not only that he knows what you like that makes him special, it's that he cares enough to find out, to file that information away, and to use it when you need it.

God, you love him for that; for putting you first in everything, not just when he makes love to you. That's what he’s doing, right now, loving you and putting you first, like he always has.

Your heart feels like it's going to burst as you sob out his name and the euphoric heat of your peak rolls through your body.

As your body cools and Sy clutches you to his chest, you keep asking yourself one question; How are you going to spend a year without him?

Sy is dripping with sweat as he brings in the moving boxes from your car with Aika padding along behind him, his white undershirt is damp and clinging temptingly to his body. Your heart starts to race but you remind yourself that finally, after twelve months apart, and seeing each other only a dozen times, this time there will be no goodbye. You can wait until tonight before you run your fingers through the thick curls on his chest and gently tease his nipple with a scrape of your teeth and a lick while he shivers and pretends not to like it.

“Last one. More books,” he grunts, breaking you from your daydream. He leans down to give you a quick peck as he walks past. “Gonna open a goddamn library.”

He’s smiling though. You don’t think anything could dampen his mood today. You are moving in together and in three months you’ll be married and three months after that…

“You okay?” he asks, brows a little furrowed. “Been a long day. Why don’t ya lay down and have an afternoon nap, huh? Unpackin’ can wait a while.”

“I’m not suddenly made of glass, Sy,” you say smiling, watching him place the last box on the ground and straightening.

He smirks and steps in closer to you, wrapping his humid arms around you. “I know. But you’ve been tired and nauseous and—”

“And I don’t feel tired or nauseous anymore.” You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling your way up his body with a grin.

“Oh really?”

You nod slowly, biting your lip and lazily swaying your hips against Sy. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and grabs your ass pulling you closer, rolling his hips in return.

“Woman,” he groans, “These pregnancy hormones are gonna be the death of me.”

You shrug and try to smother your grin as you say, “I can think of worse ways to go.”

Sy’s grin grows larger as he leans down to cover your mouth with his, “I can’t think of any better way to go.”