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ddarker-dreams · 2 days ago

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A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next (TBA)

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.”

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat.

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles.

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.”

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.”

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?”

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.”

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes.

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings.

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.”

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come).

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?”

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?”

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.”

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”

His compliment makes you frown.

“Quit it with the flattery, already.”

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.”

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.”

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.”

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect.

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?”

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress.

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.”

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way.

“You’re closer to mine than you think.”

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle.

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.”

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest.

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.”

His smile makes you squirm.

“I know you aren’t.”

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?”

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.”

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.”

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work.

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart.

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis.

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes.

Right and wrong no longer concern you.

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table.

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record.

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance.

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected.

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.”

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent.

A pair of approaching headlights blind you.

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed?

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged.

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—”

The man never finishes his sentence.

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly.

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind.

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed.

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.”

“You… you know Chrollo?”

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.”

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror.

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp.

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.”

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?”

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades.

It’s coated in fresh blood.

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning.

You take a step back.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥”

Is that supposed to make you feel better?

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with.

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?”

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦”

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything.

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣”

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice.

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough.

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind.

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant.

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards.

But you’re not.

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago.

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.”

“Oh?”

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—”

“ —Greed Island.”

You wave his correction off.

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?”

“Magic. ♥”

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?”

“Some more than others.”

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause.

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy.

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.”

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down.

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment.

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow?

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit.

“I need— need to get going…”

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥”

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together.

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency.

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense.

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them.

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater.

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?”

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?”

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…”

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift.

You could’ve died.

You almost died.

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much.

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks.

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred.

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation.

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…”

“Pathetic.”

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly.

He points to himself. “Me?”

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise.

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled.

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?”

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.”

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course.

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥”

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car—”

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures.

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement.

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.”

“Of course.”

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked.

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can.

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress.

“... Chrollo?”

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames.

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?”

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?”

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?”

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober.

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.”

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened.

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life.

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available.

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter.

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar.

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues.

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…”

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect.

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life?

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door.

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole.

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

Note

we can only imagine what cosmetic brands Vil uses🤭

(reference to the Malleus and Armani cosmetics post)

[Referencing this post!]

According to Vil’s official profile, his talent is making homebrew cosmetics. He even mentions making his own skincare in 5-29; we get a look at how Vil packages that homemade skincare too.

Vil infuses some of his homemade skincare with very benign charms to enhance the effects of its ingredients. Ortho comments on it after scanning the ingredients of skincare that Rook brought with him into S.T.Y.X. HQ in 6-39:

There's also the infamous Azul Ceremonial Robes vignettes, in which Vil makes a deal with Azul to obtain a toner that can make his skin even more moist and supple than his usual homemade one can. This toner, as we come to learn, is made by wringing slime from Floyd's merform.

Vil is so pleased with the results of Azul's toner that he volunteers to put Azul's next skincare product through the paces.

Vil has also repeatedly expressed that he favors Félicité Cosmetics (sometimes written as "Felicite" or "Felicity" in EN; it's really inconsistent), which is a world-class brand that sells perfume, room fragrances, makeup products, herbal oils, beauty accessories, and more, all made with what Vil calls "naturally-derived ingredients" and "the latest techniques". It’s actually been mentioned a fair few times in Twst! The brand has its own store in Fairest City, which sports several luxurious retailers; Vil seems to be acquainted with the employees here.

The brand has released a limited-edition makeup set collab with the Beautiful Queen live action remake, which Vil stars in. Neige has also acted in a commercial for them, advertising a sunblock. So Felicity Cosmetics works with other big names!

Vil places a lot of trust in the quality of Felicity Cosmetics products, particularly when it comes to the waterproof and long-lasting nature of them. When thinking about what makeup he should wear during the interdorm magical shift/spelldrive tournament of book 2 (in which he will be sweating a lot), Vil muses, "*Sigh* I just cannot decide how I want to do my makeup on tournament day! I'm thinking maybe that new foundation from Felicity Cosmetics?"

When picking up his reserved makeup collab from the physical store location, Vil makes a similar remark about how the eyeliner they make can last even in a downpour or a very long shoot. He says that he may even be able to recommend it to a merman like Azul, who is completely submerged in the water in his true form.

Vil chooses to wear Felicity for triumphant moments too. When Jade is able to acquire the elusive and coveted Ténèbres brand mirror heels for him, Vil says, “I'm thinking it would be good to change my makeup to match my shoes. The new lipstick from Felicite Cosmetics would be my first choice.”

Vil has recommended Felicity Cosmetics to others as well. He taught Rook about makeup and introduced him to this brand, which Rook has now become fond of. Rook even requests that Vil pick up a rouge for him while he’s in the Felicity Cosmetics store.

That’s what we know about what Vil slathers on his oh-so-famous face!

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adumbratrapedme · 3 days ago

Text

Osamu Miya x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between osamu and reader.

wc. | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst, teen pregnancy mentions, fluff, etc.

teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

╭⋅OK! you guys havent been dating for long, perhaps just 5 months and the relationship was actually perfect except for the fact that Osamu wanted to keep it lowkey, not even his twin knew. ╭⋅Because i really love this headcanon that says that girls usually went to osamu just to get closer to atsumu or that everytime he liked someone atsumu would frlit with them and stuff like that ╭⋅ So thats why he wanted to keep it lowkey, what if his twin found out and started fliritng with you?? it kinda made u feel bad cuz it was like "he doesnt trust me enough?" but its okay, u understood at the end of the day tbh ╭⋅Anyways, Your first reaction? Pure panic. You went through the five stages of grief in your bedroom before finally accepting reality. ╭⋅ The thought of telling Osamu made your stomach churn. What if he freaked out? What if he left? But a small part of you knew he wasn’t that kind of person. ╭⋅The realization hit him in waves. ╭⋅The first wave was shock—like the world tilted off its axis. ╭⋅The second wave was fear—what would happen to you both? What would people say? How would this change everything? ╭⋅The third wave was responsibility—he wasn’t going to let you go through this alone. Not a chance.

Osamu never meant for things to get this complicated.

When you two first got together, it was supposed to be simple—lowkey, nothing flashy. Not because he was ashamed of you. Hell no. If anything, you were the best thing that had ever happened to him!!. But he knew his brother too well. Atsumu had this infuriating habit of developing crushes on girls Osamu liked, and Osamu wasn’t about to let that happen with you.

So, keeping it a secret had seemed like the safest option. Late-night calls, meeting up behind the gym, pretending to be just classmates in public. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. At least, for a while.

Then Suna found out.

And of course, he had to be an asshole about it.

"You know, if you wanted to keep it a secret, maybe don’t stare at Y/N like they’re the last onigiri on earth every time they walk into the room," Suna had casually remarked one afternoon, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

Osamu froze mid-bite of his lunch. You nearly choked on your drink.

Suna finally glanced up, smirking.

"How long have ya known?" Osamu muttered, already bracing for the answer.

"Since the first time Y/N called you ‘Samu’ instead of 'Miya.'”

Busted!!!!!!!.

That was months ago. Back when the biggest problem was keeping things quiet.

Now? Now things were a whole lot messier...

The two lines on the pregnancy test made sure of that.

Your hands trembled as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the small plastic stick that had just turned your entire world upside down. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. It felt surreal, like you were watching a scene from someone else’s life.

How am I supposed to tell Osamu?

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, making you flinch. You snatched it up, your stomach twisting the moment you saw his name.

The hot twin (clearly he added himself like this): hey, wanna meet at the usual spot?

He had no idea.

You typed out a shaky yeah before grabbing your jacket, stuffing the test into your pocket, and heading out, perhaps this was the right moment, right?

Osamu was already waiting behind the gym, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes lit up the moment he saw you. That lazy half-smile—the one that always made your heart do stupid things—tugged at his lips.

But the second he got a good look at you, the smile faded.

His brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. The words felt too heavy, too impossible to say out loud.

So instead, you reached into your pocket, pulled out the test, and held it out. It felt blunt to do it this way, but you figured it was better to get it over with now rather than later, if he was going to break your hearth maybe it should be now.

Osamu stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it. Then at you.

“…What’s this?” His voice was steady, but there was something else there. Something uncertain.

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

The kind that stretches for too long, making your chest ache.

Osamu blinked once, twice, then exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit.”

You nodded, because yeah.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His jaw tensed, his fingers flexed, his eyes flickered with a storm of emotions—shock, fear, something unreadable.

Then, before you could spiral any further, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms.

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding escaped in a shaky exhale as you melted into him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, securely, like he was trying to hold everything together.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured against your hair. “I promise.”

Your eyes burned. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that until now.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Panic still curled in your chest, making it hard to breathe, but then Osamu met your gaze—steady, unwavering. His hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you, and for the first time since you saw those two pink lines, the chaos in your head quieted.

You weren’t alone in this.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small, reassuring gesture. “I know it’s scary,” he admitted, voice low. “I’m scared too.”

Your heart clenched.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “ya trust me, right?”

You nodded before you even realized it.

A slow, lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “Then we’ll be okay.”

And somehow, despite the panic still lingering at the edges of your mind, you believed him.

Taglist:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69 @curlyhairkk @b1xi

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor someone pls tell me, i get really lost with the taglist thingy ahhh

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cyberhughes · 2 days ago

Note

congrats!!

sorry this is a lot but can I get a long island #1/#24 where connor like confesses his feelings please

cyberhughes 200 follower special ⋆ .˚

long island coming up!!

prompts #1/#24: "i think i love you." + "i'm like, madly in love with you."

warnings: none!!

hi love!! thank you so much for the request! connor is such a cutie i wish men were real. there is a movie reference in here but if you don't get it its basically just that the multiverse is real :( cause i'm a nerd and i think he’s a nerd too

prompt list

connor bedard felt like a lovesick loser whenever you were around. of course you'd never known that your best friend had a major crush on you, and he intended on keeping it that way, he'd never want to jeopardize your friendship over a silly crush.

a silly crush that had his heart thumping as he watched you silently with loving eyes as you danced around the kitchen of his apartment, blasting the smith's "there is a light that never goes out" on your phones speaker. you had taken a spatula, using it as a microphone while he sat back and laughed at your antics.

"and if a double decker bus~" you flipped your hair while jumping around, shooting him a toothy smile. "crashes into us~" you sang, sliding on your socks to where he was sitting at the island and shoved your makeshift microphone into his face. you didn't notice the blush on his cheeks when he mumbled the lyrics as he rolled his eyes, “to die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die..." you'd burst into laughter at his off key singing, but he didn't get upset, he'd simply admire the way your face lit up, because of him.

a silly crush that had him doing whatever you wanted, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy any day. you had dragged him to a new book shop that had just opened up, not too far away from his place. he trailed behind you as you scanned the tall shelves of books, falling in love with the way you observed the books with such concentration, the way your eyes squinted slightly and your brows furrowed as you flipped through the pages. and of course he was holding your pile of books to purchase, unsure if you knew what the cost was, it was getting to be quite the stack.

"i promise i'm almost done." you'd give him a sorry smile and he'd shake his head, "it's okay, i don't mind." and he really didn't, he'd actually prefer that you take longer just so he could spend more time with you, not getting to see you as often because of his busy career. he didn't notice when you called out his name, too entranced by the way your lips moved as you spoke passionately about the books.

"connor?" his eyes widened, "yeah, sorry." you pointed to a book that was just barely out of your reach. "can you reach that?" you'd ask sweetly and he felt his heartbeat pick up, nodding. he balanced your current pile of books carefully in one hand while he grabbed the new one. "thanks!" you eagerly grabbed it, your hands touching for a brief moment, and how he wished he could experience the things you read about in your romance novels, with him.

a silly little crush that had was not in fact so silly anymore. he couldn't go about his day without thinking of you. the two of you had a movie night planned, and while this was a regular occurrence for you, he suddenly felt so nervous. he had made sure his apartment was extra clean, that he smelled good, and that he didn't forget to pick up your favorite snacks. when you had arrived with sweats and no makeup on, he couldn't hep but fall in love with you more, appreciating that you felt comfortable around him.

that night the movie you had picked was 'everything, everywhere, all at once.' you'd seen it a few times and you knew connor would be a big fan. you had your legs rested on his lap as you concentrated on the movie, but the only thing he could concentrate on was your pretty face.

"think about it connor!" you started chatting, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth, "imagine what our lives would've been like if we had made different decisions! like what if we had never met? would we still be where we are now? or would i be a famous celebrity?" he listened intently as you continued to ramble on, explaining how the multiverse could very much be real, and that your every day decisions could alter your life's path so easily. all he could think was that in every universe, he'd want to be with you.

"what do you think?" you asked and he stared at you with dazed eyes, "i think i'm in love with you." both of your eyes widened at his words. he couldn't believed he had just said that, out loud. "what did you just say?" you asked with uncertainty and he felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. oh well, there was no turning back. "i'm like, madly in love with you." he confessed and felt his stomach do somersaults as he waited for a response from you.

at first you just stared at him in disbelief, and he had thought he had messed everything up. he then watched a smile slowly form on your face as you sighed, "connor bedard you are such an idiot." you giggled, "i think i'm madly in love with you too."

he didn't know what to do, he hadn't ever planned on confessing his feelings to you. he thought that he'd might be dreaming, it was only in his dreams that you had reciprocated his feelings, but here you were. and so he spoke the only words he could think of in that moment,

"can i kiss you?"

#˗ˏˋ 200 special ˎˊ˗#connor bedard #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard fluff #connor bedard fic #chicago blackhawks #connor bedard x reader

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leyavo · 2 days ago

Text

| I am my father's daughter |

💖 Dad!Price x Daughter!reader

PART TWO: Agreeing to let Toff check you over, you make the decision of whether not you want to stay with your dad or just take off, which would be so much easier.

TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort/ some TF141 too. [Part one] [Series masterlist] 3026words

Toff lived up to her nickname, no letters dropped at the end of her words like the team your dad had around him. No she was posh, well spoken and had the accent of someone that came from old money.

The gold designer watch on her wrist and the rock of an engagement ring, also telling enough. Her fingers prodded the yellowing bruise on your rib cage, the rock dazzling under the light, blinding you each time she moved.

She doesn't fit in, too put together compared to the likes of your father. He's still wearing some sort of hat, whether its the ridiculous army bucket hat or a snug knitted fisherman one, if he's not it's stuffed in his back pocket. You're convinced he's still got the same Levi jeans, a few added scrapes and as he says, they wear well. There's an array of plaid and flannel shirts in varying colours hanging in his wardrobe, like another uniform he wears on his downtime instead of his camo gear.

Your dad had slipped that she went to some prestigious medical school before working in the military. Not that it mattered it to you, you'd see a vet if it meant they wouldn't talk to your dad.

Thankfully she made your dad wait in the hall, her office door shut as she assessed you. If you got this over with, you could leave and not have to speak of it ever again. You could just imagine him pacing the hallway, halting to greet the soldiers calling him captain and then resuming his pacing.

Being the Captain’s daughter also meant you had a shared family health plan with him. One you’d never heard of before. He did use to remind you to go for dental and medical check ups, but moving around when you were younger made it difficult. Your mother reluctant to fill out forms to sign you up to a new doctor’s surgery because she wasn’t sure if the new home was long term. Shocker, they never were.

"You won't, uh tell my dad?" You asked as you rolled the layers of clothing back down.

Toff tipped your chin up with her finger, "all patient records are confidential, even if your dad's Captain Price." She pushed her chair back wheeling it to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers, sliding back to you.

She peered over her thick framed glasses at you, turning your face side to side inspecting the gash above your brow. The metal of the tweezer cool against your skin, she prodded the tape drawing back with a nod of satisfaction.

"Soap patched you up well," Toff said handing you a plastic cup of water and some painkillers.

"Sorry, what," you blurted out, choking on the water.

Humming Toff nodded, "he's good with light touch, probably why your dad got him to fix you up whilst you were out cold." She managed to get hold of some of your medical records, which she requested last night. No doubt your dad had called as soon as you fell asleep in the car and asked her for a favour.

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, did the whole bloody army base know what happened last night? Toff was too busy reading your record, brows scrunching as she double clicked the mouse.

"You broke your wrist six years ago, but never had surgery," she said, turning the computer screen for you to see the x-ray. "The follow up on here, shows your bone moved during it was in a cast, but your guardian refused surgery." Her pen circling the area of the screen for you.

"We were moving and it felt fine," you shrugged, looking down at your wrist. You wondered if your dad knew about that one.

"Does it bother you now?" Toff said, returning to you and picking up your right wrist, pushing your sleeve up. "Huh, there's a lump there, does that hurt? Any regular pain? Does it restrict you from doing certain things, this is your dominant hand?" Her hazel eyes snapped up to yours as you snatched your wrist back and shoved the sleeve back down.

All of her questions spun around in your head, you hadn't even thought about the pain when there was other things to worry about.

Toff stood from her chair, palms raised as if you were going to bolt out of the room, you wanted to.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. Is that all you need me to take a look at?"

"Yes, thanks,” you snapped, flinging your hoody back on and zipping it up.

You're ready to bid your dad goodbye and never look back, but as you swung the door open you crashed into the back of someone else.

Soap's light touch kept you upright, you're trying not to think of him patching you up whilst you slept. The thought alone making you feel pathetic, small in his presence. Like you can't even look after yourself.

“Captain got called in,” Soap said, as if that’s supposed to mean anything to you. You’re used to him coming and going, more focused on his job than you.

More interested in his team, how he so easily referred to Soap as son. You haven’t even been there for a day and he’s found another family, leaving you to feel like a spare part. You want to hate Soap, but you don’t know him. Don’t know your dad the way they do.

The walls began to press in and you took off down the narrow corridor, your sight on the world outside. You needed fresh air, needed to catch your breath and not fall apart in front of Soap.

"Hey, woah," Soap called after you, his boots stomping as he tried to catch up. "dammit slow down would ya, like a fuckin’ greyhound."

You forced the door open with a bit too much force and they slammed against the stairs railing as you rushed down the steps.

"I am not a dog!" You spun around, jabbing his chest with your finger. The cool air swept your hair across your face, drawing a deep breath from you. You watched Soap's chest rise and fall as if he was coaching your breathing.

He tucked the curtain of hair shielding your eyes behind your ear, "feel better now?"

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you signed me out right now.” You raised your brow, wincing at the tape pulling it tight.

Soap shook his head, falling into step beside you. He waved, signalling for the guard to let you both through the gate back into the residential area “Your dad’s a good man, why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I’m not a soldier, he had his chance six years ago.” The three years he didn’t reach out, didn’t bother checking in on you. Only to find out he had another kid, another family.

You didn’t miss the tic of his jaw or the gulp he took. All the little signs you looked for when you said the wrong thing, you were good at noticing the change in people. Knew how even the nicest ones could change like a flick of a switch.

Soap leant down, face close to yours that you could feel his hot breath fanning the curve of your nose. “Look, if you’re only here to piss off your dad, I’ll sign you out right now. Hell I’ll even take the blame for you leaving, just don’t go asking him about six years ago.”

“Got it,” you said, voice low but good enough for him to hear. The tension in your body kept you in place, breath trembling as he backed off and started walking ahead.

You trailed after him, keeping your distance incase he turned around again. The beating of your heart drummed against your chest, palms sweating as you balled them up inside your pockets.

Why were you so pathetic when confronted? You could just hear your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to knee him in the groin. Take up some space so they can’t take all of yours.

Space, exactly what you needed after being stuck in house with a team of men. You slipped through the front door, not glancing at Soap as you rushed to the safety of your dad’s room.

Shutting the door, you pressed your back against the wood panel. The lock sliding into place, your body slumping to the floor and arms wrapping around your legs as you brought them into your chest.

Your small area of safety calming you. After a moment of silence, you picked yourself up and climbed under the duvet. The memory foam mattress too hard on your back that you flipped over on your stomach, closing your eyes.

The constant buzzing of your phone drew you out of your sleep, your eyes heavy as you squinted at the window. You don't know why your dad opened the blinds, the sun making it harder for you to focus. His half of the bed smooth and tucked underneath the mattress, not a crease in sight till you tugged the duvet.

Numb tingles danced across your upper back, you groaned into your pillow and attempted to roll your shoulder. Searing pain stopping you before you could rise from the bed.

Eying the alarm clock, you stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. You're glad the others are training this afternoon and you can sort this out yourself. It can't be that bad.

You pulled your hoody over your head, wincing at the pull of your arm stretching the skin across your shoulder blade.

Peering over your shoulder, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and your fingers pressing into the red skin. A weeping wound oozed yellow pus just right of your back below your neck. You'd forgotten about the graze, too distracted by Toff questioning your broken wrist.

You added a little more pressure and clutched the edge of the sink, black dots lining your vision. You heard the thud before you felt your body fall to the floor.

Sweat ran down your forehead, the cool tiles beneath you a welcome addition against the heat of your skin. Since when were you so hot? your breaths quickened as you tried to focus on your phone across the bathroom. Your hand aching to reach for it.

Maybe if you just rested for a little.

John couldn't wait to sit outside and have a cigar. The day had knocked him, your call in the early hours of the morning throwing him off track and his duties as a captain, a father. He hated how he got called away whilst he waited for Toff to check you over, hoping to catch you before you went on another stroll around the base to get away from his questioning.

He pulled his boots off and added them to the shoes lined up by the door, the living room and kitchen were clear. The mumbled tones of his teammates drew his attention to the hallway. He dragged a hand down his face, hoping he wouldn't have to readjust yet another bathroom schedule.

John joined the guys huddled by the closed bathroom door, looking around Soap for a clue of what the hell they were doing. "I mean we could shimmy the door open, pop it out of the frame with a bit of force," Ghost said, his calloused hand tracing the wood.

They’re all covered in sweat from their training session. Thinking they’d revert back to their bathroom schedules like normal, but they’re locked out. Only the new recruits use the communal showers.

"I don't think kickin’ the door in, is gonna make the lass feel safe." Soap said, arm shooting across the guys before they could move. The warped door's been wreaking havoc since they were assigned the house, but they haven't been bothered about taking it off and shaving it down or replacing the temperamental lock. That or wait on the long list of maintenance services.

“What the hell are you boneheads going on about?” John grumbled, their heads snapping towards him as they finally realised he was there. He glanced to the lock picking device in Ghost’s hand and the dagger wedged into the crack of the door.

“The doors locked, she was talking a second ago…” Gaz winced as the captain’s fist banged against the door shaking the whole wall.

John held his hand over his shoulder silencing them all behind him, his head titling as he tried to listen for any movement. Another knock on the door, "hey kiddo, you alright in there? If you can hear me give me something, anything."

A light tap bounced back, the tension in the captains shoulders easing at the sound.

"Can't kick the door in, there ain’t enough room in there for it to fall. Could hurt her," Gaz said, he yanked the dagger out of the door and shoved it back into Soap's hand.

"Could take the window out and go in that way." Ghost added, as if they were planning to scale a building and ambush a rogue team.

Their mumbled voices merged together in the cramped hallway.

"Window it is."

Gaz volunteered to climb through the second floor window and break the lock from the inside. John holding his breath as he waited on the other side, his chest stung at the sight of you in Gaz's arms. The ringing in his ear and the hands pushing him forwards kept him in tow behind Gaz. You were so pale, words slurred and hand dropping over his arm like a dead weight.

John was no stranger to the infirmary, he'd been sat either at someone's bedside or the unconscious one receiving aid. What he wasn't used to though, was his daughter strung up with an IV and sleeping off the medication Toff had given her.

Nurses flitted back and forth from the bed, herding John to the side as they assessed you. Gaz and Soap had gone back to the house to sleep, Ghost fixed the door and the lock and stopped by to give the captain a strong flask of coffee leaving straight after.

The constant questions, ones he didn't know since he'd never been asked before. How could he not know if you were allergic to anything or if there were any underlying health issues? It hadn't even been two days since you'd come back into his life and he didn't know you at all.

Hours had passed since Gaz had carried you through the house and to the infirmary. Your skin pale and clammy, hair sticking to your forehead. He'd never seen you like that, lost for words as he trailed after them.

The marks of another man's grasp circled your bicep, green bruise fading, but visible as you laid in the bed. John thought the split lip and gashes on your head and brow were bad, the wound on your back much worse. Couldn't understand how you carried the pain so well, as if you'd mastered putting up with it. That scared him.

He nodded to the nurse as she finished her shift, the clipboard at the end of your bed falling to the floor. He picked it up flicking through the pages and shuffling them back into the file. His hands hesitating as he read your name, Marston not Price. Was he that detached from your life that you'd dropped his last name? He'd even put his surname for you when he'd signed you into the base and you hadn't said anything when you looked at the visitor pass.

A hand smoothed across his back, chair scraping along the floor beside him. “Lucky girl, Cap. Mild case of sepsis, good that you caught on to it early and brought her in," Toff said, she leant her elbows on her knees and ducked her head to catch John's gaze.

He couldn't glance at her though, his gaze on his hand on top of yours. "You were supposed to check her over," he snarled, more angry at himself for not paying enough attention than at Toff.

"She didn't show me the wound on her back, just some bruising and the marks on her face that were visible. If I'd have known John..." Her words cut off by John's hand patting her knee.

"How she looking?"

"You caught it in the early stages, could be a few days or a week or more. She'll need to be monitored here and make sure the infection has gone. A wound like that though with the placement, would have made it difficult for her to tend to herself." Toff flicked through the medical chart, eyes flitting to the heart monitor as she walked around the bed.

John didn't want to think about you alone, isolated from people that could help and care for you. How you lacked a family and friends to lean on during those times. His mind consumed with finding whoever did this to you. Ghost had already asked him if he wanted him to look into it.

Toff hooked up another bag of IV, silently bidding him goodbye and returning to her office over the other side of the infirmary. Door ajar incase she was needed.

A twitch of your finger tapped against John's, followed by the hurried beat of the heart monitor. You whimpered in to the pillow, rapid movement fluttering under your eyelids.

“You’re okay, kid. Just relax, your old man’s right here,” he said, adjusting your pillow and smoothing your hair out of the way.

“Captain,” you slurred, lazy smile tugging your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you clutched his pointer finger like you used to as a kid.

You’d called him Captain as a kid, your mother’s doing as she used to tell you stories about daddy becoming one, one day. Playing soldiers whenever he came home and he’d always let you be the captain, your little voice commanding him to play.

"I've got you kid, you're safe."

- thank you for all your lovely comments on the first part!! :) more parts to come soon! Hope you liked it - Leya

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jmdbjk · 2 days ago

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January

It's been every which way over here, not gonna lie, I'm ready for a month of nothing happening.

That being said, Hobi is about to unleash some music to get us lathered up prior to embarking on his world tour.

But that's a kind of chaos I welcome. More, please. (see what I did there?) Orchestra Mic Drop needs to be on the set list. Manifesting.

Anyway... Jimin. I can't wait to have fun conversations with you about your military service. I'm positive the stories will keep us enraptured for ages. I can't wait to have you back with us. I see the snow falling in Korea and I am thinking of you and your crew shoveling away, then knocking the snow off your boots and heading inside to the mess hall where Jungkook and his crew have cooked up some steaming bowls of hearty stew or soup to warm you all up.

Soon, the spring days will be here and then before we know it, it'll be June 11 and you and Jungkook will be back. As of today, 130 days left. We will already be on a high from welcoming Namjoon and Tae back.

What will that first day be like? Will you and Jungkook sit on that couch in the Hybe building in your military uniforms with balloons and flowers next to you, and turn on a Weverse live just like Jin and Hobi did?

No pressure, lol. BUT WE REALLY NEED TO SEE IF YOUR ASS IS OUT OF THIS WORLD. YOU PROMISED.

You mentioned that you and Jungkook talk about a lot of things before going to sleep. The things you talk about in those deep conversations are probably becoming more and more real to the both of you every day. Don't be scared. Don't be worried. We only want you to be safe, happy and out of there. Really LUYO 💜 too.

The day is coming when we can all say YOU DID IT! WE DID IT! WE ALL MADE IT! NOW ON WITH THE REAL SHOW!!

And last but definitely not least, the first group live with Yoongi... cue the tears. Will he get out early? Saved vacation days? Would he even show himself if he did? Or will he go by the book all the way to the end? We wait™️.

I heard Kim Jones is leaving Dior. I was not a fan of the last few seasons of his creations. I could not imagine Jimin wearing any of that mess. The new mens creative is supposedly JW Anderson. Not sure when we'll see first glimpses of his Dior menswear. He better be prepared to fit Jimin's sculpted butt perfectly.

And Pharrell has designed a new Tiffany line called Titan that has little spikey things and such...

I have finally realized I have entered a phase where all I'm concerned with is what is happening in real time to all the members. What are their thoughts, their state of mind now while fulfilling their duties? What are their concerns, what are the things that bring them joy and satisfaction? What are the forces and events that are impacting them?

We can glean these things from their brief moments they post on Instagram or Weverse, or when their fellow soldiers or colleagues post things that help us see more.

We know Namjoon is about to die from boredom. He knows what is planned and he knows its going to be big.

We know Tae is very proud that he's met his target goal to join the Bangtan buff-line. But we'll have to be the judge of that because Jimin says they're working out and he has "good things to show us" (see: out of this world butt above).

Jungkook needs a little confidence boosting but is ready to belt out karaoke at a moment's notice. Hand that man a mic please.

And Jimin is nervous because he's immersed himself in his soldier role for the past 1 year and 2 months and now must pivot and make the shift back to his real life.

Jin has worked 3 weeks straight and we don't know what that means.

Hobi is busy melding the LA hiphop scene into his DNA and prepping for a concert tour to blow us away. Can't wait.

And Yoongi... an autograph left somewhere but when? Recent? Not recent? Someone saying they MIGHT have spotted him. He's been a ghost. He said he would be. And that's what will make his re-emergence that much more emotional for all of us, to finally see him and his smile.

Ok, that was a good ramble. Until next time, everyone dress warmly if you live on the top half, dress for summer if you live on the bottom half but all of you stay safe and always look for the positive.

#bts military discharge #jimin #jungkook #hobi #namjoon #yoongi #taehyung #jin

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curiouspupsicle · 2 days ago

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Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/31/25) - Resistance!!

Being a well informed American living under an administration determined to dismantle our democracy (already stressed) and cause as much damage as possible has even my comfort moments turning to resistance. After all, evil people have always existed. And good people have always resisted. So is there anything my Good Omens fixation has to say about resistance? Given Terry Pratchett's moral universe, we could argue that all of Good Omens is steeped in resistance. But I'm going to limit myself to a few specific favorite fics that highlight different forms of resistance.

Let's start with the series that got me thinking in this direction: Demon and Angel Professors (G) by Ghostinthehouse (@ineffableghost). This is 200 ficlets, each exactly 666 words, hanging on a silly premise. Everyone loves literature Professor Fell who goes on regular tangents about his sweet husband Anthony. Everyone fears grumpy botany Professor Crowley who treats his students like he treats his plants. And anytime Crowley goes near Fell, the first-year students go into protective mode. Because surely Crowley must be up to no good and a potential harm to dear Prof Fell and his precious Anthony. But beyond that bit of fun repeated every year with a new group of incoming students are amazing stories of resistance against those who would cause mental harm or physical violence to disabled people, folks with a variety of gender identities and presentations, queer individuals, people dealing with trauma--basically anyone who might be vulnerable in a thoughtless and even wicked society.

Sometimes resistance is persuading someone to do better. Other times it's offering a hint that makes someone think. It may involve a hands-on approach to someone who only knows violence. Or it may be getting someone to a safe place as quickly as possible.

I read it over a weekend. But I think there's a better approach to reading this long series--bookmark it in your phone when you are doing a hurry-up-and-wait activity (jury duty, medical treatments, picking up kids at school, etc.). The short length of each fic makes it easy to pick up and put down. The variety of "ducklings" tales (what the ineffable pair call the students they help) will keep you interested. And the sense of joy and hope will make it a good way to spend time on a challenging day. Resistance fics aren't all human AUs. Check out The Last Angel (E) by @bellisima-writes. For millennia, Crowley has been Hell's Grand Inquisitor. He never served on earth. After Hell won their war against Heaven, they finally track down the last remaining Angel, Aziraphale. Crowley's given the job of torturing him for information. I don't want to give too much away. But Crowley's form of resistance involves being true to himself no matter what Hell demands. And Aziraphale has a more direct form of resistance planned. It's an exciting read as well as thought-provoking.

@snae-b writes the kind of fics you don't want to start reading before bed--at least not if you plan on getting up early the next day. Echo (E) is no exception. Each day, barista Aziraphale wakes up and goes into work. He serves a chauffeur, Crowley, who seems strangely familiar. Asking questions like "what makes one human" and "how do you fight against an evil activity that no one knows about," Echo is also just a plain old compelling story. And a resistance tale that, despite its futuristic setting, would not feel out of place beside a tale of the French underground resisting Nazis.

Mutual Aid (T) by malicegeres predates the Good Omens tv show. So presumably that makes it part of the Book!Omens universe. In it, radical bookseller Ezra Fell ends up hiding anarchist Crowley from the police after he's injured by skinheads. As the title indicates, they find a common cause and start working together. Loved the depiction of Adam as a leader. And the fic includes a listing of leftist political resources at the end.

Many consider The False and the Fair (E) by @princip1914 to be one of the best human AUs in the Good Omens universe. I certainly do. Aziraphale Wright's family runs a coal mine. Anthony Crowley, his former best friend, is the son of a mine worker. I don't want to spoil the story if you haven't read it. But what appears to be a story of regrets and making amends has a strong thread of accountability that results in wrongs being made right after a powerful act of resistance (with some help from the press). If you haven't read it, check it out. And if you have, read it again--with an eye towards resistance.

Finally, I'll end with a WIP, Good Works (E) by @majnoonathelibrarian. Set in 1987, Aziraphale is an assistant parliamentary secretary in the Thatcher government who finds something strange in the documents he's handling. Crowley is a mysterious "fixer" for a consulting firm who finds himself drawn into queer activism. Both of them have to navigate their day jobs along with increasing activism in a couple of different streams. The characterization is fascinating and the writer strings out the mysteries through the tale. This WIP is regularly updated and nearly complete. Remember, the fan fic community is a COMMUNITY. So don't forget to encourage writers of works underway by leaving kudos and comments. Writers are a gift to fans and we need to show them our appreciation. Finally, I'll give my pitch as someone who has been around much longer than most of you reading this. The yucky things happening in the world can be overwhelming. But it's a backlash. Because we've already made so much progress (both The False and the Fair and Good Works are good reminders of just how deadly the 1980s were for queer people). So resist. By making art and telling stories. By protesting. By contacting the people in power making decisions you disagree with. By caring for the vulnerable. By speaking out at local political meetings. By amplifying the voices of marginalized people. By using any of your unearned benefits to advocate for others. And by just existing as the beautiful and unique individual you are.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #go fan fic recs #fan fiction #go fan fiction recommendations #go fan fic rec #go fan fiction #resistance #let your fun reading inspire your resistance

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nubiawrites · 3 days ago

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chapter six

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving). toyplay.

Summary: a night in with Aaron has Iriye ready to risk it all as production of Paradise Lost hits a snag.

Notes: I'm still thinking about Aaron's sleeve. Please let me know what you think about this chapter and where things are going. All the love that has been shared with me excites me.

MASTERLIST

Focus was something Iriye was lacking at the moment. Completely. Especially when she was in the kitchen with the fine specimen, currently chopping up onions on the special marble cutting board in her kitchen, and her eyebrows knitted together as Aaron worked. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he worked, and Iriye stopped going through her fridge to move over to him, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Aaron turned to face her, a small smile coming on her face. She returned the smile, returning to grab the chicken she had seasoned earlier for the rasta pasta she had planned to make.

“I didn’t take you for someone who was such a good cook,” Aaron teased. Iriye playfully glared at him.

“Well, I’m not going to oversell you, but I can at least cook to survive,” Iriye said, moving to find her wooden cutting board. And by cooking to survive, I can call my mom and ask her for help when I’m flailing. " This might have been the night before when Iriye called, needing the pasta recipe her mom often cooked when she was a kid.

“I respect that,” Aaron said, moving the onions into a bowl she set aside. “I hope I didn’t send you into a tizzy when I asked to see you tonight,”

“You didn’t. I was glad you wanted to see me again,” Iriye admitted. “I mean, after the night we had… and the morning,” She was trying to be cool about it, her mind thinking about how he woke her up,”

“Turn over for me,” Aaron breathed. Iriye raised an eyebrow but did what he said, remembering she only wore his shirt. He pushed the material up, moving to reveal her bare backside. Aaron moved behind her and pulled her hips up till she was on her knees, back arched. She felt his hand spread her cheeks, giving him a peek of her pussy.

“Aaron…” She moaned in anticipation, wanting to know what he would do. But she didn’t have to wait further when he began licking at her lower lips from behind…

“That was quite the morning,” Aaron mentioned, and Iriye felt her cheeks warm as he looked at her as if he would eat her again. A girl could hope.

“It was,” Iriye smiled. “How has shooting been for Lanterns,” The grin that appeared on Aaron’s face lit up the room and she listened as the man began to yap on as they cooked the rest of their meal.

Iriye and Aaron sat at her dining room table, plates finished as they continued talking.

“Do you think you’ll ever get used to being in the limelight?” Iriye asked him, his hand playing with her fingers.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Aaron admitted. “Everyone’s at the top one day and the next, they’re yesterday’s news,”

“I doubt that for you,” Iriye shrugged. “You’re good at this. Acting. You put your whole soul in it. Like, I can tell you enjoy what you do. What you bring to a scene,”

A small smile crept up on Aaron’s face at those words, and he lifted her hand and kissed its back.

“I’m glad you think so,” Aaron kissed her hand again. “But sometimes I wish I could just do my job and go home. Not to deal with the extra,” He said.

“Being toted around like a show pony,” Iriye stated. “You know how many agents and managers I had meetings with before I signed with my current one? Eighteen. I felt like none of them saw me. I was just some diversity quota to fill up their clientele roster. And then I met my current manager, Devery. I thought he was this total gym bro, and then he told me one of the details I put in a script. A little tradition my mom and her people would do back in Kingston. And he loved it. Of course, I thought he was about to ask a question about it. But he researched it. It seems tiny but it meant everything to me. After that meeting, I wanted him to sign me, and we’ve been working together ever since,”

“Well, it seems he has your best interest at heart,” Aaron said, Iriye shrugging.

“He does. To have someone that has your back along the way. It's worth its weight in gold,” Iriye explained. She moved to take their plates to the kitchen, feeling his hand trailing against hers as he let go. She came back, seeing he was quiet. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Aaron kissed her hand and pulled her around to stand before him.

Aaron nodded. “I just want to make sure I do right by you, Tamara, Nelly, and everything Lanoire Productions is with Paradise Lost. "

“You are going to kill it, Aaron,” Iriye tilted his head to look at her, his hazel eyes peering at her dark brown ones. “This story is going to flourish on the big screen with you in it, and I’m not just saying that to stroke your ego,”

Aaron smiled, his hands smoothing up the back of her thighs, his hands almost catching the silk dress she wore.

“You have a call time, tomorrow,” Iriye stated, remembering him mentioning that he had to be to the lot.

“I know,” Aaron nodded, his hands moving to cup her ass, pulling her till she was straddling his lap. Her hands touched his neck, slowly scratching at the skin, and she licked her lips as she heard him groan. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything?” Iriye said.

“This doesn’t bother you? You know… staying in,” Aaron asked. Iriye looked at him. “I don’t want you to think I like us in these four walls only,”

“You only like me when we’re alone. Well damn,” Iriye teased.

“I like you everywhere, Iriye,” Aaron said. “I want to take you on a proper date one of these days… if you would like to,”

Iriye felt her cheeks warm at the words.

“You’re making it hard to find the red flags, Aaron,” Iriye admitted. She moved to stand up. “So? Are you going to ask me on a date?”

Aaron shook his head at her as he watched Iriye look at her wrist, acting as if she was checking the time. He stood up, his six-foot-three towering over her five-foot-eight frame.

“Will you let me take you out on a date, Iriye?” He asked.

“Of course, Aaron,” She answered quickly. “You have a call time,”

“I know,” Aaron kissed her softly, his hands gripping and squeezing her waist. Iriye moaned as she felt him grabbing her.

“My place is further from the lot,” Iriye reasoned between kisses. “You need… you need a good night's sleep. Because you’re playing a beacon of class and strength,”

“Yo!” Aaron breathed out, Iriye giggling.

“I’m serious. You got a long drive from Baldwin Hills to your place,” Iriye mentioned. “You need to rest,”

“Then put me to bed,” Aaron suggested, raising an eyebrow at her. Iriye bit her lip before leaning on her toes, pressing a tender kiss against his. “We’re going straight to bed. No funny business,”

“No funny business. Scouts honor,” Aaron raised his hand like a boy’s scout, and Iriye rolled her eyes. Iriye took his hand, and he pulled her back into his body as they walked together into her bedroom.

Iriye felt some distance was needed, and while she showered, she left Aaron to his imagination while he was in her room. He made himself comfortable, taking in the most intimate space Iriye had for herself. He set his two alarms on his phone so he could get up and stripped down till he was left in his boxer briefs. He didn’t want to impose on her space, but he took in the different photos and trinkets.

On her bedside table, Aaron saw a picture of her with a woman with the same features as her but was slightly older. He picked up it was her mother as he noticed different photos of them around her room. He smiled because they shared the same smile, finding the beauty in them both. Random pens littered the nightstand, and charging cables were entangled. It was homey and right for Iriye.

The bathroom door opened, and steam billowed out as Iriye shut the door behind her. She opted to change in the bathroom, knowing she would be distracted by him if she got dressed.

When Iriye saw Aaron on her bed, she moved to the right side, where she had slept. She grabbed her scarf and tied it around her head. She then opted for a crop top she had cut herself and sleep shorts to ensure this man got to bed for his call time.

“You need more pillow cause I have some in the chest,” She asked.

“I’m alright, love,” Aaron said, slipping under the covers with her. She settled under the covers, mirroring him as they lay on their sides. “Come here,” Iriye tried to resist, but Aaron snaked his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

“Hi,” Iriye breathed. “Can you turn off the lamp?” She asked. He turned to switch it off, and the room was engulfed in darkness except for the moonlight peaking slightly through her blinds. Even through the darkness, she felt his eyes on her, his hand massaging her hip with his thumb. They were in a comfortable silence, and she loved it. “You didn’t go snooping through my draws while I was showering, did you?”

“Never would dream of it. Don’t want to encroach on any secrets you might have,” Aaron teased.

“Not even my panties drawer,” She teased.

“Definitely not that,” Aaron chuckled.

“Hm. Too bad. You would have found something really interesting while snooping,” Iriye moved to turn her backside to him. “Night, Aaron,” Though she knew they needed to sleep, like clockwork, he pressed his hands on her hips, and she felt him growing harder against her ass.

“You can’t say stuff like that and then tell me to go to sleep,” Aaron complained, knowing he meant it teasingly.

“You know nothing good comes this late at night,” Iriye nuzzled into her pillow, trying not to let out a gasp as feeling him against her backside.

“What was it?” Aaron asked, whispering against her ear. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest. Iriye tried her best, but this man behind her drove her crazy.

“Turn the lamp on,” Iriye said. He quickly reached out to turn it back on. She shuffled over to her side of the bed and opened the drawer, pulling the device and holding it close to her chest. “Okay. You gotta promise not to laugh,”

“I promise,” Aaron spoke, turning to lay on his stomach and look at her. Iriye turned and showed him the device, and seeing his eyes widen at the vibrating wand was something else.

“Something to help me sleep at night,” Iriye admitted. She was nervous. Not because of her healthy sex life with another person or even solo but because Aaron was silent. His face was blank as he looked at her vibrator. “I think I broke the boy from South London,”

“Can I see it?” Aaron asked. Iriye raised an eyebrow at him. “I wanna see it,” She handed it over to him, chuckling.

“What are you up to,” Iriye asked. A slight grin came on Aaron’s face.

“Lay back,” Aaron pushed the covers further down to the end of the bed. She eyed him before propping herself up on the pillows. He set the vibrator to the side and moved to tug his fingers into her shorts, pulling slightly to ask to take them off. Iriye lifted her hips to help him, her lower half now bare. It didn’t help that her pussy was growing wetter as she felt his eyes on her. “Take off your top,”

Iriye didn’t waste time taking her pajama top off, leaving her bare before Aaron. She laid back, spreading her legs as he got between them. He made sure to put her spread legs on his thighs so he couldn’t escape.

“I’ll go to sleep after I get to play with your beautiful pussy,” Aaron stated. Iriye couldn’t even control herself. She pulled him close, her lips on his as she arched her body against him.

Aaron’s tongue licked against her lips before slipping inside her mouth, tongue fighting for dominance as they made out against the bed. Her hand grasped at his hard dick, Aaron groaning against her mouth. He pulled away, seeing her nipples growing harder, and he moved to kiss down her body, his mouth wrapping around her right nipple and sucking it softly.

Iriye whined out with every pull from his lips on her nipple. Aaron let it go with a smack before moving to the neglected one, sucking it as well. She felt every pulse going to her center, her body aching for it and for him.

“Fuck Aaron…” Iriye pressed her breast closer to his mouth. Aaron pulled away, and she pulled him to kiss her again, her hips rolling up and pressing against his clothed length.

“Relax,” Aaron breathed against her lips. Iriye hummed, nodding at him. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him as he grabbed the vibrator, configuring it quickly to start at a low hum. Iriye reached for it, but Aaron pulled it from her. “I thought you were going to let me have control,”

“I am,” Iriye whined.

“Then we are going slow, baby,” Aaron gave her a grin before he moved the vibrator over one breast, her nipple hardening even more under the vibrations. Her back arched, and she felt him move to her other nipple, the vibrations steadily making her grow wetter.

Aaron bit his lip as he watched Iriye rolling her hips towards the vibrator in his hand. Lips parted as moans spilled from her; Iriye was feeling like he was torturing her. She was used to going fast and hard most nights when she knew she would be busy. She wanted to get off those nights. But Aaron was determined to make her feel.

“Aaron,” She breathed, her hips rolling against the vibrator as he kept pressing it against her clit, listening to her gasps and moans so he could move the toy to what spots were making her react. She wanted to shut her legs, but he was between them. “Please, Aaron,”

“You want me to turn it up,” Aaron teased, leaning down to kiss her lips, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “Talk to me, love,”

“Turn it up,” Iriye breathed. She whined out as he pressed the buttons, and the vibrations came faster.

Aaron watched how her body rolled towards him, his hand slipping to hold her down against the bed by her stomach. He was so hard, his length begging to feel her, but he wanted to make sure she got hers first. He pressed down a little, flicking the wand against her, and Iriye moaned louder.

“Fuck,” Iriye moaned, pressing closer to her toy. Aaron groaned as he could hear her getting wetter as the vibrator worked against her. She was all breaths and moans, her hands moving to her breast, squeezing and teasing her nipples.

“Take the vibrator,” Aaron ordered her. Iriye took it in her hand, and she felt Aaron slip his fingers inside of her. She whined as he caressed his fingers inside of her, touching her g spot, and she whined. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” Aaron leaned over, his lips colliding with hers and she moaned into his mouth. One hand trailed to cup his cheek as his fingers, caressing the spot inside of her that made her go wild inside of her.

“Mhm,” Iriye moaned, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip as she felt him moving his fingers in and out of her. She wanted more. She needed more.

Aaron’s lips trailed down to her neck as he continued to thrust his fingers into her, feeling her walls fluttering more and more around his fingers. His lips went to nibble and bite at her collarbone, nibbling at her collarbone. He wanted to leave his mark on her like Iriye was slowly leaving on him. Her whimpers and moans ringing through his ears and him looking up at Iriye to see her head in the pillow and her body rolling sensually against his as she got closer to her end.

Aaron’s hand went over Iriye’s and he took a hold of the vibrator, watching as she peeped her eyes to look at him.

“I’m… close,” Iriye let out between a moan. Aaron began moving his fingers more to fet her closer to her hand. “More…” Aaron took her words and he pressed it to the next setting on the vibrator, the buzzing louder and faster as more moans, whimpers and cries left her mouth. He focused his attention on m oving his fingers faster, testing the waters and slipping a third finger inside of Iriye.

Iriye wanted to pull away when he pressed a third finger in, the stretch feeling so good amd him testing the waters as he watched her. Aaron kissed her again, moaning into her mouth.

“I wish I could feel you wrapped around me,” Aaron whimpered against her lips. Iriye kissed him back, her tongue pressing to lick inside of his mouth.

“I want you, Aaron,” Iriye moaned. His fingers moved inside of her faster, his finger tips pressing just the write way as she could hear how wet her pussy was around his fingers. She was so close, that edge right there and with a certain flick of his wrist as he pressed back into her, she felt her body fall over it. Iriye cried out her orgasm against his lips as he focused on making sure she got every bit of it.

Aaron wanted it all. He wanted every moan of hers. Every cry that graced her lips. Every moment of pure pleasure she had to offer. He continued pressing the vibrator against her, his fingers fucking every whimper out of her as he prolonged her orgasm till she weakly pushed him away.

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed weakly. He pulled the vibrator away to turn it off, slowly pulling his fingers out and licking the essence that covered them as he watched her blissed out face. Iriye worked onc atching her breath, pussy still throbbing from aftershocks. “I want you,” She whispered.

“I want you too, love,” Aaron said. Iriye kissed him again and he wrapped her up closer to him but she stopped him.

“I want you to fuck me,” Iriye whined. A grin took over Aaron’s face, his hand moving to her chin. She pressed closer to him and he grasped her hips. “As much as I want to, we won’t leave this bed,” Aaron stated. “I’ll want to taste every inch of your body and leave no patch of skin untouched,” He caressed her thigh and she whimpered.

Iriye moaned at his words and he kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth.

“I promise, it’ll be worth it,” Aaron said, trailing a finger between her breast. Iriye looked up into his eyes and she could tell it would be worth it. She nodded and he sealed it with a kiss.

The thoughts of the night before replayed through Iriye’s head, knowing she should be focusing on Tamara’s words as she spoke to her and Nelly during lunch. But all she could think about was when she and Aaron would fu-

“Earth to Iriye,” Tamara raised a brow at her friend. “You listening,”

“Yeah, I am,” Iriye looked between a concerned Tamara and smirking Nelly. “What?”

“You’re chewing the hell out of your food. Thought you might bite your tongue or something,” Tamara chuckled. “So, the camera test footage looks good but the executives want to float someone else into the mix for Nora,”

“But we like Sam for Nora,” Iriye tried her best not to be annoyed.

“Well it landed with someone. Vivian Kincaid,”

“Shut up,” Nelly whispered. “I love that talented messy bitch,”

“Vivian Kincaid? No,” Iriye shook her head. “I get it. She’s the wonder girl for WB but at this moment, we’re locking in Sam,”

“They want her and Aaron to test together. See how it goes,” Tamara said. “I don’t think they will touch what Sam and Aaron did but she reached out Davis directly he said. I guess she’s looking for a more serious role for a comeback,”

“But this could be a breakout for Sam,” Iriye stated. “She’s worked jsut as hard as us to get to this point,”

“I think it’s more of a formality of letting Vivian throw her hat in. I wouldn’t worry,” Tamara said. She checked her phone when it rang. “It’s Jay…” Iriye tried her best not to roll her eyes at the mention of her ex. “He asked to talk about some camera shit. I’ll keep it short and cute,” Tamara stood up, pressing a kiss to Iriye’s head and leaving her with Nelly.

“So…” Nelly said. Iriye rolled her eyes playfully.

“Ask away,” Iriye said.

“I didn’t tell anyone what I saw with you and Mister Pierre,” Nelly teased. “What is going on with you two?”

Iriye tried not to smile too hard as she thought of the man who she shared an innocent shower with earlier that morning. The one who she walked down to his car because she wanted to make sure he go to the studio on time, kissing him slowly against his car in the early dawn of morning. But she couldn’t help it.

“We’re just… taking things slow,” Iriye admitted, even if she was ready to spread her legs for him if he asked in a hearbeat.

“Taking things slow my ass,” Nelly teased. “But it’s cute. I’m happy to see you having fun. And if he’s not showing you a good time or treating you right, I’ll kick his ass. I don’t care if he’s six foot two,”

“Six foot three,” Iriye corrected.

“I knew you were obsessed with him,” Nelly shook her head.

After lunch, Iriye made it back to the production office, seeing a bouquet of lilies waiting by the door. She smiled, picking them up and heading inside of her office. She knew Tamara and Nelly were busy on the lot and she would have the afternoon to herself so she put the flowers at her desk. Finding the card attached with them, she read it was from Aaron and smiled to herself.

Iriye picked up her phone, sending him a text along with a thank you for her flowers. It ook him a few minutes but he called her, Iriye putting it on speaker.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the flowers. I figured I should properly court you,” Aaron’s voice flowed through the phone.

“Properly court me?” Iriye laughed softly.

“Yes. I’m kind of disappointed I didn’t send you flowers before getting a taste of your personal garden,”

“You better be in your trailer,”

“I am. But let me focus. By properly courting you, I was wondering what plans you have Friday night,” Aaron asked. Iriye hummed, pretending to check her schedule. “Nothing at the moment,” Iriye replied.

“Good. May I take you out Friday night?” Aaron asked. ��I promise. You won’t regret what I have in store for you,”

“Yes, Aaron. You can take me out Friday,” Iriye smiled to herself. Even with the nerves she felt, it was refreshing and terrifying but Aaron was someone she wanted to see the end of this journey with.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre smut #terry richmond smut #terry richmond fanfic #aaron pierre x black fem reader #aaron pierre x black!oc

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benzendrine-nosebleed · 2 days ago

Text

"Sing Me To Sleep."

Guys!! I wrote a one shot based on Schlatt's most recent Drunk Driving stream after hearing him sing bits and pieces. I haven't proof read this (mostly because I'm not in any sober editing mood to) but I wanted to share this quick little bit.

1111 Words, Fluff, Schlatt X Reader

“I love hearing you sing like that,” I spoke softly. Jay was taking a quick break from his drunk driving stream, moving from his office to the kitchen. He has been streaming for a few hours now, and I could smell herbal liqueur on his breath. He grazed past, marching straight to the refrigerator with padded “thuds” from his socked feet.

“Do ya?” Schlatt asked, plucking a snacking cheese from the drawer inside. “Was it on stream?” He asked, unwrapping and popping creamy gouda snack cheese between his lips.

“Yeah, your mic picked it up, and I do, I love hearing you sing Jay, I wish you’d do it when you were sober. You have a wonderful voice,” I smiled, “I mean, your fans loved the album right? That should be enough motivation for you to sing like a canary,” I reached out to hold him for a second before he went back into his office. His mustache shifted on his upper lip as he chewed away. “Have fun with your stream Handsome, I’ve got to go to bed soon. I’m gonna get ready to crawl in. I’ll turn your side of the blanket on so when you make it back it’ll be warm for you too.”

Schlatt smiled and reached out, setting the wrapper on the counter beside me and wrapping his arms around me in a soft embrace. “Of course toots, I don’t know when I’ll end the stream, but I’ll be ready to climb into bed wit-cha.” He pulled me close into his arms, and planted a kiss on my cheek. “If I’m not back in there before you fall asleep, I hope you get some good rest in, I love ya,” he chirped. He pulled away, striding with a confidence he put up as a front for his audience. He entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

As he moved back into his room, I strolled across our home to the master bathroom and began drawing up a shower. I had a long enough day working at my own conventional job, that a Friday night was the night to relax. It was winter though, which meant I was in the busy season. I had to help shovel snow across the city, while in New York was enough of a task on its own, and brainstorm funding for public park systems and come up with plans for new designs. I climbed in, letting the hot water warm my bones, and I listened to Schlatt scornfully yell at his computer screen. As I continued, I could hear his agitation and laughs come in waves. He was thoroughly enjoying streaming again, and I was more than happy to let him enjoy it.

I climbed out of the shower and threw on some pajamas, in “Jay’s” style as I had begun to call it. I had taken one of his sweatshirts, which was baggy on myself, and threw it over a pair of my shorts. Once I finished brushing my teeth, I walked to the bedroom, careful as to not disturb Schlatt in his element on Twitch. His cats, Jambo and Soup, were sitting on the preheated bed, leaving me to shuffle in between them as not to disturb their own slumber. I plugged my phone in, and scrolled through TikTok until I began to drift off. I could feel myself nodding in between videos, so I made the choice to set my phone down, and sleep until I felt my lovely drunk boyfriend slam into bed.

This was somewhat of a common occurrence, since he used to film Chuckle Sandwich late into the evenings, we held this dynamic. I would end up in bed early, and sometimes I would wake up to him crawling in, or cuddling up to me. Sometimes I wouldn’t wake up at all and I’d hear my alarm, and feel Schlatt’s arm wrapped around my stomach anchoring me down. After the week that I had though, I was too tired to try and stay up until he was done streaming. I set my phone down on the bed next to me, and nodded off.

I woke up to Schlatt crawling into bed gently, not to disturb me. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but the room was still dark, and the lamp on my side of the bed was still on. He reached over me softly and shut it off, slowly letting the room fill in with a darkness. I didn’t move too much, it was more of my subconscious running my body at this point more than my own mental state. My eyes fluttered closed again, only squinting shut as soon as I felt his hand wrap around my shoulders. He shuffled closer to me, pulling the blanket from between us, and spooning into me.

“Sleep Warm, sleep tight, once you turn off the light,”

He softly lulled. His fingers slowly drifted into my hair, stroking through the strands softly. I recognized the song, being one Schlatt would throw on sometimes in the evening as the night came to a close. He slurred softly, his tone was indicative that he had been drinking most of the evening, but reached his most inebriated state before climbing into bed. He softly sang more, my mind came to life realizing he wasn’t just singing along to a song, he was singing to me.

“Let dreams within you dwell, sweet dreams of me my love,”

He continued softly, his fingernails tracing softly on my scalp. A smile had formed on my face hearing him singing so sweetly, softly into my ears as his lips pressed to the back of my neck with each verse. I still hadn’t moved an inch, hoping to not spook him out of continuing his warbling.

“Close your eyes now, and kiss me, and whisper you miss me,”

He pressed his lips to my neck with a soft kiss. His soft mustache tickled my neck, his fluffed brown hair pressed to mine, it was almost overwhelming how much I adored him like this. I scooted backwards into his body, pressing myself against him as his singing ended a moment later. His hand wandered under my sweatshirt, gently cupping my bare torso. I would normally feel a tad self conscious whenever he would do this, but tonight I basked in the feeling. His hand slid itself between the mattress and my skin, securing his place next to me.

“G’night sweetheart, I love you,” He whispered softly between another set of kisses on my neck.

“Good night Jay, I love you too,” I mumbled back, still flush from his lull.

#jschlatt #chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #jschlatt smut #schlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt #jschlatt streams #I WISH IT WAS ME

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cmdrfupa · 17 hours ago

Text

Masamichi Yaga ~~~~~~~~~~~~ New to this online dating so please, bare with me.Single. Divorced once. One grown son. Educator. I love knitting and crocheting. Looking for a needle to thread (I am sorry, this is cheesy but it's true.)

6.7k words (jjk au, fluff, smut, Yaga is a green flag)

a/n: Yaga, Yaga, Yaga. What a man. I wanted to give him love during the season of love. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

“Hello. My name is Masamichi Yaga and this is my twentieth years coming at the International Knitters and Stitchers Expo.” He spoke into the small vlogging microphone and watched as the interviewer rambled.

This was actually it. Year twenty. Year 10 of no longer being married and coming to these things. He wasn’t sure if it was the big banner showing his knitting clubs faces or seeing some of his long time friends bring their little ones to it this time around. But the feeling of being single and walking around wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Yaga! Its so good to see you again!” The elderly woman who was 2 feet shorter came up and gestured for a hug from the large man. “We would’ve missed your expertise for this years ‘Stitch your hearts or die’ event!

Yaga bent down to accept the warm, motherly hug before she pinched his cheek. “Good to see you also, Tita.” He took the badge with his name from the table:

Yaga M.

2025 K&SE

GOLD PASS

He didn’t hate this hobby of his. It was probably his favorite thing in the world outside of working in education. Student need a button put back on? Principal Yaga’s got it. Need a hem? He’s got his emergency kit on hand. Four newborns in the neonatal unit need some warm foot and hand mitts? Masamichi Yaga is on the scene with ten sets because he knows he will get a call for six more before the end of the month.

But twenty consecutive stitch expos for a man in his 40s is beginning to feel…

“Betsy cross-stitched some of the cutest flags for each of our home countries so we can wave them around during roll call! Gotta rep!”

He gave a half smile. “Yes ma’am..gotta rep.”

His group encircled him, smiling and greeting him as they would while he tried his best to stay in the moment.

He forced a smile. Another year surrounded by over three thousand people and he felt more alone than ever.

__________________

Yaga settled into bed post shower. It felt nice to be back in his own home after 4 days of nonstop conversation and photo ops with the “worlds largest knitting needle” recipient. He fell back into his routine: cleaning up, checking emails despite being off work for another 4 days, and meal prepped for the week before his wind down officially started.

He stared down at the open web-page on his phone, brows furrowed in concentration. "The Foolproof Guide to Dating: Master the First Three Dates and Win Their Heart!" The title alone should have been a red flag, but it had been a long time since he'd gone on a real date—long enough that he figured a little structure wouldn't hurt.

Yaga sat up in bed, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and began to slowly read.

He tried not to be too hard on himself, it wasn’t as if he had time to fumble his way through modern dating customs. Between his work and his students, romance had taken a backseat for years. Now, thanks to Nanami’s insistence, he had a blind date scheduled with a woman who was supposedly going to be good for him.

He let out a breath and scrolled further.

“Date #1: Set the Perfect Tone!

Choose a location that showcases your best qualities.

Maintain strong eye contact to establish dominance. Let her know you mean business!

Pay a subtle compliment, but don’t overdo it! Keep her on the edge so she chases you!

Keep the conversation lighthearted yet intriguing. Who doesn’t love a man of mystery.”

Yaga rubbed his temples. This was nonsense, wasn’t it? Showcase his best qualities? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to take her to a classroom and demonstrate his ability to keep a rowdy group of students in check? Pull out a ripped pair of pants and sew a patch on? He laughed silently, his large shoulders shaking as he put a sound to the belly laugh he expelled.

He sighed.”A man of mystery.” he repeated in a huff, setting his alarm and sitting his phone on the nightstand. “There’s no pressure, Yaga,” he talked to himself sternly, almost like a father speaking to his son the night of prom. “Its a date, not a wedding. Just enjoy the experience.” he turned over, closing his eyes to try and imagine what tomorrows date could result in. It was too late to back out now. He had to go in full speed.

The café Nanami suggested was a quiet, bookish kind of place, which Yaga appreciated. The soft hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the rows of bookshelves lining the back wall made it feel comfortable. Approachable. He could work with this. He settled into the arm chair, feeling confident in the afternoon.

Then you walked in.

He spotted you almost immediately and smiled, something warm and effortless about you. You stepped in like a dream. You waved at the barista and smiled, dress flowing as if you’d paid the wind to make it move with each step you took. Breathtaking.

“Uhh let’s do a honey latte with coconut milk today. And two lemon cookies, please.” He wondered what made you want a honey latte. Was it the honey? Perhaps you weren’t one for the strength of just straight coffee? His mind filled with scenarios as he watched you wait for your order.

“Yaga?” An unfamiliar voice walked up to him while he sipped his coffee.

“He’s not here.” His eyes stayed on you, not flinching.

“Sorry? Nanami told me you were my date?”

Shit. He turned to her and felt that guilty gut feeling at the confusion that stirred on her face.

“Oh gosh, so sorry. Yes, I-” He stood up and held his hand out and let her shake it. “I thought I saw someone I knew. My apologies. Call me Masamichi.”

“Oh! You’re okay. Happens to the best of us.”

“Would you like a beverage? I’ll get it for you.” he offered the chair right next to his. “Anything you fancy most?”

She pondered for a moment then smiled. “An americano with an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold. You’ve got it.” He gave a warm smile and went to the front counter, walking past you as you scrolled on your phone waiting for your order.

He’s seen the viral clips of men bothering women and being called out about it. Was it really worth disturbing your peace?

‘Its for the best. And you’re on a date. Just leave it alone-’

“What are you thinking about getting?”

Your voice cut through his own dialogue and he froze from the neck down, turning to see you just a few steps closer to him. Your eyes were gentle, your voice sweet as honey.

“An americano.” he gruff voice lightened with his response. “With an extra shot of espresso.”

You raised your brow almost surprised at his answer. “Very… intense.” You laughed gently. “If you need something to help balance it out, I suggest the chocolate chunk muffin tops they have here. The perfect sweet treat to wash that down.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me. Its for my blind date.”

Amusement flickered across your expression and you looked subtly over your shoulder to see the woman sitting, waiting for you. "Exciting. Or nerve-wracking?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Both."

“Well, good luck to you! May the odds be in your favor.” Your order was called out and you grabbed your latte first, raising it in mock cheers before grabbing your plate of cookies and walking to a nearby table.

He sat across from his blind date, doing his best to focus. She was an amazing person—Nanami had vouched for her, after all. She had an easy smile, a soft voice, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him.

And yet, he kept glancing in your direction.

He tried to shake it off, returning his attention to the conversation. The guide had emphasized eye contact, active listening, and finding common ground. So he nodded along, asking genuine questions as he engaged in the conversation, offering polite responses. But every so often, his gaze drifted—just a flicker of a glance, quick enough that he hoped his date wouldn’t notice.

But he noticed. He noticed how you tucked a braid behind your ear, how you smiled at your book and widened your eyes and gasped in hopes of no one hearing you. How you tapped your fingers lightly against your coffee cup. It was distracting, pulling at the edges of his mind even as he tried to stay present.

Halfway through the date, he knew. He knew there wasn’t a connection—not the kind he was wanted to feel. His date was great, but she wasn’t the one keeping his attention without even trying.

By the time an hour had passed, Yaga took a breath and made up his mind.

“This was really nice,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "You seem like a wonderful person, but… I don’t think there’s a connection here. I wanted to be honest with you before we parted ways."

His date blinked, then gave a small, understanding nod. "I appreciate that, actually. And I get it. No hard feelings. Good luck to your future dating trials."

They parted on good terms and Yaga walked her outside before he went back in to sit for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table trying to wrap his head around exactly what he was about to do.

He was never one to act on impulse. Impulsively buying a high dollar steak? Sure. But something in him told him he’d regret walking away without trying.

“Full speed ahead,”

So before he could talk himself out of it, he stood, walked over to your table, and cleared his throat.

"Hey. Uh." He shifted his weight slightly, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look—this broad-shouldered, serious-faced man struggling to find the right words.

You picked your head up from your book, a little surprised by his approach, “Americano! Hi!”

"I know this might be a little unexpected, and I apologize. I know I told you I was on a blind date but… it has ended. I wanted to tell you that you are incredibly striking.”

Yous placed your bookmark and slowly closed your book. “Did you scare her off?”

“Oh no no. It’s just that there was no connection,” He tried to clarify his actions not realizing it may be doing more harm than good. “I found myself interested in getting to know you and I wanted to do it the right way.”

You couldn’t tell whether he was joking or just being a nuisance, but you were too intrigued to not find out.

So you sat quietly, smiling.

He cleared his throat. "Your, uh, shoes look sturdy."

A pause. Then, to his immense relief, you laughed.

"Wow. High praise. I was hoping to impress you with my charm after you decided to be so brazen, but if my footwear is winning points, I’ll take it."

Yaga felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and laughed just loud enough for you to hear.

“To keep my momentum going, I’d love to take you out to lunch sometime to get to know you better.”

“What if I’m not single?” You stood up, letting your eyes trace over his defined shoulders and chest. “This would all be in vain.”

He hadn’t even thought of you being taken. His ears turned a shade of tomato red as he tried to figure out how he could recover from fumbling this badly. “I’ll pay for you next coffee if I’ve disrespected you and your partner. That wasn’t my intention.”

There was something endearing about this big man overthinking every other thought he had. It was obvious to you that he was not one for approaching strangers in public for things as informal as asking someone out. It was.. cute.

“After our first date, we can come here for a coffee then. I won’t say no to coffee with a handsome man with no name.”

“Cheeky.” You both laughed as he pulled out a card from his jacket pocket, passing it onto you gingerly. “Masamichi. And it would be my pleasure.”

=============================================

Six months. You’d been dating Masamichi for six and it was heaven on earth.

You’d come to know a mild giant for a partner. The perfect balance of love, laughter, and understanding. You’d complemented each other in every way imaginable, personalities intertwining like the branches of a sturdy oak tree, unshakable and resilient.

He was considerate, gentle, consistently showing that he would be there for you come hell or highwater. And you showed the same.

Two people swimming in the dating pool meeting by chance in a small pond.

Fate.

And now on your 6 month anniversary, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering to the elephant in the room - or rather, the absence of it in your bedroom.

You sighed, tracing your fingers along the rim of the mug filled with now lukewarm green tea, a gift from Masamichi's grandfather. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the sincerity and thoughtfulness that permeated your connection. Yet, despite the depth of your bond, there was one aspect of your relationship that remained unexplored, a chasm that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

Masamichi was in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clattering as he prepared dinner, his humming a soothing melody that normally would have chased away any lingering doubts. But tonight, your mind was consumed by the gnawing uncertainty that had taken root in the pit of my stomach. You couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with you, if his hesitation to take your relationship to the next level was a sign of some deep-seated inadequacy.

You watched as he nodded his head along to the light jazz that filled the air. He was everything to you. And you didn't want to ruin the perfection you had cultivated together, the easy camaraderie and the deep respect that underpinned every interaction you’d shared all because it feels like you’re ovulating every other day.

But at the same time, the weight of the unspoken desires was beginning to take its toll, the deafening screams of wanting to be in the throws of passion grew louder with each passing day.

You knew you had to say something, to address the elephant in the room before it consumed you both. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation that was to come, and made your way to the kitchen, determined to confront the fears and insecurities that had been plaguing your thoughts for weeks on end.

Masamichi looked up as you entered, a warm smile playing on his lips as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. "Almost ready," he murmured.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to find the right words. Masamichi sensing the uneasiness in your demeanor, set down the spoon he was holding and turned to face your fully, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've got something on your mind," he asked softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder.

You nodded, swallowing hard before speaking. "Masamichi, we need to talk. About us, about... our relationship," you spoke with intention, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he seemed to grapple with his own thoughts.

"I fear I know where this is going," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “I know you said the crochet thing wasn’t a big deal but it becomes one. Its just part of me..” He untied the apron from around his waist and lifted it over his head. “I know it isn’t for everyone.”

What a man. You smiled, rubbing his bicep before pulling him to the couch. “No no. I like your hobbies. It isn’t that.” You sat him down, his dark eyes brewing a storm as he tried to figure out just what you could be referring to.”

“Chi, do you find me attractive?”

He looked shocked, almost offended at the question. “A goddess among us mere mortals. You are beyond gorgeous. Where is this coming from? Am I not calling you beautiful enough?”

“God, you make it real hard to be assertive when you’re this sappy.” biting your lip and faintly laughing, you cleared your throat to push through the conversation. "I know we haven't... I mean, we haven't taken that step, and I can't help but feel like I'm disappointing you somehow in the attractiveness factor or you may not be ready which is totally okay! I just want to at least talk about it."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. "The truth is, I want nothing more than to be intimate with you, to express the depth of my love and desire for you. But I'm scared," he confessed, his voice barely audible.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "Masamichi, look at me," you followed his eyes, waiting for him to meet your gaze.

He did, and you could see the anguish and self-doubt swirling in his eyes. "You could never disappoint me," you assured him, thumb brushing against his cheek in a tender caress. "What we have is so special, so perfect, and I don't want to ruin it by rushing into something you may not be ready for."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Masamichi. I love every part of you, including your kindness, your patience, and your unwavering commitment to our relationship. Our intimacy, whenever it happens, will be a natural progression of the love and connection we already share."

Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for saying that, for seeing me the way you do. I was so afraid that you thought there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't enough for you."

He pulled back slightly, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing the soft moon of your cheeks. "I love you so much," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours once more. "I love your strength, your kindness, your unwavering faith in us. I don't want to mess this up, to do something that might hurt you or push you away."

You turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before smiling. "You could never push me away, Masamichi. Your love, your respect, and your consideration for me are what make me fall in love with you more each day," You remarked, voice steady and sure. “And you’ll have to try harder if you want to get rid of me.”

Masamichi laughed, his wide shoulders moving as he enveloped you in his embrace. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply with a shuddering breath. "Well you know I’m an older guy so it takes awhile to make sure my engines stay running for awhile.”

“Is there anything I could do to.. keep them running?” You were sincere in your curiosity.

Grinning and shaking his head, Masamichi squeezed your hand. “You could wink at me and the engine starts. Its just part of me getting a little older. I need time to..” He thought for a moment before continuing, “Time and maybe a boost to make sure the engine can run for as long as it needs to.”

“Oh!” you fanned him off, thinking you clearly understood what he meant until it actually clicked. Your brows raised. “Ohhhh..”

He chuckled, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Do you have that on like, standby? How does one obtain… engine boosting medication?”

“I’ll make an appointment and hopefully be seen next week. Easy as that.”

You hadn’t really thought about the implications of dating a ‘seasoned man’. He’s older, not old so you didn’t really think he’d need help I suppose. But it didn’t deter you by any means.

He was a one in a million kind of man and sex wasn’t everything to you. But he was.

“I want to do this right," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I want our first time to be perfect, to be a celebration of the love and intimacy we've built together. And I want to make sure that you're ready, that we're both ready, before we take that step."

“Respectfully, honey, I was ready the moment you picked up that love seat without breaking a sweat awhile back.”

“You’re an insatiable woman.” He leaned in, kissing you softly before lying you back onto the couch.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss. “I’m sorry you are just too hot. I can’t help but be in awe of you.” you whispered against his lips.

“And just so we’re clear: I’ve thought of the many ways I want to ravish you. When I get my hands on you,” He ran his thumb ever so gently over your bottom lip. “I want you to be the only thing that can satiate my appetite.” His large hand traveled up your thigh, lightly allowing his knuckles to caress your soft skin until he stopped right at your inner thigh.

For the first time ever, you were rendered speechless, only nodding as he placed soft kisses across your collar bone and shoulder before meeting your lips.

His lips moving against yours with a tenderness and love that stole your breath away. "Together," he murmured, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. "We'll navigate this journey together, one step at a time, and build the perfect intimacy that we both deserve."

===========================================

As the candlelight flickered, creating the perfect cozy table for two, Masamichi couldn't help but steal glances of you from across the way.

The romantic dinner was going perfectly in his eyes. Dinner came out absolutely divine. He opted for the lighter style of Greek food to go along with the light and engaging conversation and playful banter flowing freely between the both of you. He had been looking forward to this moment for what felt like an eternity, his heart fluttering with anticipation and desire.

Reaching across the table, Masamichi gently took your hand, giving it a tender squeeze. "Tonight has been absolutely wonderful," he murmured, his thumb caressing your knuckles. "I'm so glad we could have this time together, just the two of us."

You smiled warmly, squeezing his hand in return. "I've been really looking forward to this," you admitted, a hint of mischief sparkling in your eyes. "And I don't just mean the delicious food and wine."

Masamichi felt a shiver run down his spine at the implication, his pulse quickening. "Is that so?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I think we both know where this night is headed, don't we?"

Slowly, deliberately, Masamichi stood up from his chair and walked around to his lover's side of the table. He held out a hand in invitation. "Dance with me?" he purred, wanting to feel your body pressed against his.

Accepting without hesitation, you rose gracefully to your feet. "I thought you'd never ask," you teased, melting into Masamichi's arms as he pulled you close.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you flush against his expansive chest as he began to sway to the soft music playing in the background. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to look at him. "You look stunning tonight." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank you. My boyfriend bought this for me.” You responded sweetly. “He said the color made me look like an ethereal beauty.”

He smiled down at you and continued to sway, the light air around him made him feel like he was in a romance film as you brought your lips to his, starting with a small peck that slowly moved into something more. He ran his finger tips down the center of your back, deepening the kiss the moment he felt your body shiver against him.

"I don't know how much longer I can control myself around you." He muttered against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, a soft gasp escaping your throat. "Then don't," you breathed, leaning in to capture Masamichi's lips in a searing kiss. "I want you. So so badly.” you whispered into his mouth.

Masamichi's hands began to wander, exploring and caressing every curve of your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He slid his hands to the cutouts of your dress, relishing the feel of your soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Breaking the kiss, Masamichi trailed his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive flesh. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his mouth, and it spurred him on, determined to mark you as his own.

Without thinking, he lifted you, an arm at the crease under your knees, carrying you bridal style towards his bedroom.

"Your skin tastes divine," he murmured against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "I want to leave my mark on every part of you, to show the world that you belong to me." He stepped to the edge of the bed and sat you down with the gentleness of a feather before he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving you.

You could feel the heat of his gaze as he undressed. Watching the shirt fall to the ground your core tightened. That feeling flooded you.

His pecs were well defined, contoured by his chest hair. His body was hard, chiseled to perfection and for the first time, you were seeing it without any restrictions. He leaned over you, kissing the top of your head as he brought you up to your knees.

“Here. Let me help you.” He walked around to the side of the bed and sat on his knees behind you, running his knuckles along the straps of your dress, dragging slowly across the valley between your shoulders. He unzipped, leaving kisses on your newly exposed skin right until he got to your lower back

He could feel you arching into his touch, your hands fighting to just reach behind you and pull him in by hair to hold him closer to you. "Yes," you hissed, tilting your head to give him better access. "Please, Masamichi… please..”

Masamichi groaned at the desperate plea, his hands sliding up to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. He could feel your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your dress, and he couldn't resist taking one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. He let the dress fall to your thighs and reached around, taking a nipple into his mouth and groaning at the contact.

As he lavished attention on your breasts, his other hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to cup your mound. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and he knew you were just as aroused as he was.

"You're so wet for me already," he purred, rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. "I love how responsive you are to my touch. It drives me wild."

He continued his sensual battle, alternating between kissing, licking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He wanted to overwrite every thought in your mind with pleasure, to make it so the only thing you could focus on was the feel of his hands and mouth on your body.

Lie back, I’ve got you,” He whispered before stepping off of the bed, cradling you before crawling over you with a wicked grin. "I'm going to worship every part of you tonight," he promised, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm going to worship every inch of your body," he promised. "I'm going to make you scream my name until it's the only thing you remember."

Pinning you with his hips, he attacked your neck with open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips, licking your skin before blowing light breaths on each patch.

Masamichi gazed down at you, The sight of your bare body, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipatory breath, sent a surge of desire coursing through him. He quickly shed the rest of his own clothing, eager to feel your skin against his own.

He settled himself between your spread thighs, his hands immediately going back to your breasts. He cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing the pliant flesh as he brushed his thumbs over your nipples, feeling them stiffen under his touch.

He took his time lavishing attention on them, rolling and pinching the hardening peaks until you writhed beneath him, your back arching off the bed. His hands then trailed lower, skimming over your plush stomach, feeling your tense muscles flutter under his fingertips.

His thick digits dipped between your thighs, his fingers gliding through the slick heat he found there. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you. "You're so wet for me already," he murmured, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I've barely touched you and you're dripping."

You whimpered, hips lifting to grind against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "It's because of you," you panted, voice high and needy. "The way you touch me...the things you do to my body...I can't help it."

Masamichi smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. "And I plan to make you even wetter," he promised, before sliding two fingers deep inside your fluttering pussy.

Just his fingers, stretching you, filling you. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that special spot that made you see stars. At the same time, he leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue as he worked you over with his hand.

Your body was tensing and he could feel it. Your inner thigh muscles clenching around his invading fingers as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. He knew you were getting close already, and he wanted to push you over the edge.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protesting whine but kissing between your breast then your lips.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered against your lips, “Want to taste yourself?” He brought his soaked fingers between you, glistening under the dim light and smiled as you did. Running your tongue between his pointer and middle made his cock jump. “My good girl.” He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek and kissed you, twirling his tongue around yours to savor your taste.

His fingers dipped back between your thighs to rub slow, deliberate circles around your clit and you arched into him. He could feel how swollen and sensitive it was, how it throbbed against his touch like a tiny, aching heart. With that, he slipped one finger inside and continued his barbarous pace. You clenched around his digit before trying to form words, but nothing came out except more teary eyed moans.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, relishing the way you tasted, the way you felt pressed against him. He captured every whimper and moan as he quickened his pace, the sound of your wetness now being muffled by his hungry grunts and the sensation of that engine revving magic pill suddenly reaching the places it needed.

He continued to grind and rub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just as he felt you start to tense, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap, Masamichi pulled his fingers away, stroking his cock with his now soaked hand while he reached for the pillow next you, then lined himself up with you.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, eyes looking into yours.

“Are you?”

He looked down to where you two were almost meeting and chuckled at just how red the head of his cock was. “Maybe a little too ready.”

You lifted your hips and he placed the pillow underneath you. “Then please. Have me.”

With one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside of you, burying his cock to the hilt in your tight, wet heat. You both cried out at the sudden intrusion, body stretching and accommodating his thick length.

“God damn it.” He groaned, his hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs as he cautiously placed one leg over his shoulder.

The feeling of his hard cock buried deep inside you was almost too much to bear. You could feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you wider than you ever had been before. It was a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and you never wanted it to end.

Masamichi gave you a moment to adjust, fighting the urge to start moving. He could feel your inner walls fluttering and clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper. It took every ounce of his self-control not to start pounding into you like a wild animal.

Instead, he leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders and chest, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands slid up your sides to keep you with him, holding and caressing you as your heartbeat filled his ears.

Masamichi started to move, pulling his hips back until just the tip of his cock remained inside, before moving forward and burying himself to the hilt once more. He set a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust pushing the breath from your lungs in a rush.

"You feel incredible," he panted against your skin, his voice rough with pleasure. "So tight and perfect around my cock. I don't ever want to pull out."

The only thing you could muster was a moan in response, your body rocking forward with each of his intense thrusts. You reached a hand down to rub at your clit, desperate for the extra stimulation to push you over the edge.

Masamichi growled, a dark and feral sound, as he watched you lover touch youself. The sight of you lost in pleasure, impaled on his cock and chasing your own release, was almost enough to make him come undone right then and there.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own. He rubbed at your clit with quick, firm circles, feeling it swell and throb under his touch. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he began to pound into you with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock. I need to feel you squeeze me like a vice as you scream my name.”

Masamichi could feel his lover's body tensing, your muscles pulling taut as you teetered on the brink of climax. He doubled his efforts, pounding into you with short, sharp thrusts that hit that special spot inside you with every drive of his hips.

"Yes, that's it," he urged, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come on, baby. Let go. I want to feel you come undone, shatter in my arms."

You let out a high, keening cry, your back arching as your orgasm crashed like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamped down around Masamichi's cock like a silken vice, rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before.

Masamichi groaned, the sensation of your pussy gripping him so tightly almost enough to make him lose control. But he held on, determined to bring you through your climax and prolong this feeling of pleasure for as long as possible.

He gentled his thrusts, rolling his hips in a slow, sensual circle as he worked you through the aftershocks. His hand never stopped its relentless rubbing at your now sensitive clit, coaxing out every last bit of your release until you were boneless and spent beneath.

Masamichi leaned down to capture your swollen lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He poured all of his love and desire into the kiss, wanting you to feel the depth of his feelings.

“Please.” The faint sound of your voice filled his ears, The shudders and tremors started to subside, and he finally let himself go. “Please cum for me.” You reached up to drag your nails down his torso and he threw his head back, losing every ounce of willpower he tried to hold onto. With a hoarse shout of your name, he buried himself as deep as he could go and pulled out the moment the flood gates opened.

He covered your stomach, spurt after spurt of his hot seed, painting you white as he emptied himself completely. His hips continued to rock and jerk, working himself through the intense pleasure until he had nothing left to give.

Collapsing onto his hands, caging you in, he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, his hand finding its way to roaming over your curves with a tender, almost reverent touch.

He finally mustered the energy to get up. “One moment, I need to get you a towel to clean you off.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled before walking into the bathroom.

The grin on your face grew with each moment you lied there waiting for his return. The sound of the running water turning off made you sit up on and elbow.

His large figure walking back in made you feel butterflies.

“Hi.” you spoke softly, clearly giddy.

He grinned, sitting on the side of the bed and wiping your stomach with the warm towel. “Hello, darling.”

You giggled, bubbly and absolutely over the moon.

He finished cleaning you and went to toss the towel in a hamper before returning to your side, lying and immediately taking you in. You sighed contentedly, melting into his strong embrace.

You felt safe, cherished, and utterly fulfilled in his arms. His scent enveloped you, a mix of your own perfume and the musky aroma of sex, and it made you feel deliciously claimed.

His hands continued their gentle explorations, now soothing caresses rather than the heated touches of before. He ran his fingers through your soft coils brushing it back from your face, before trailing down to trace the delicate line of your jaw and the column of your throat.

The rise and fall of your chest pressed against his own, a soothing, hypnotic sensation that made him feel at peace.

Masamichi pressed a tender kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for just a moment. "Being with you, like this...it's everything I've ever wanted."

You turned your head to meet his gaze, eyes soft and hazy with contentment. You reached up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip in a loving caress. "For me too," you whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "I never want this moment to end."

Masamichi turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the taste and feel of your skin. "It doesn't have to," he promised, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want. I'll hold you all night long, if that's what you need."

Eyes shining with happiness. You snuggled back, tucking your body even closer to his own. "I want that,” you closed your eyes now, feeling the warmth of your deepened intimacy filling your heart. “I want that with you. Always.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yaga masamichi #masamichi #yaga x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk au #lu.logs #jjk fluff

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theemissuniverse · 17 hours ago

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“CRAZY STUPID THING CALLED LOVE” HENRY HART X SUNSHINE FEM!READER PART 1

SUMMARY : Kid Danger saves you from a robbery and can’t help but flirt with you, a stranger. But…maybe you do know him? (Both are 18 and in senior year of high school. I think only once mention of y/n)

A/N : I actually am proud of this. I think I really captured Henry and Kid Danger his alter ego really well while making it entertaining. Part 2 will be soon.

You probably shouldn’t be walking by yourself, alone in the dark. Swellview wasn’t exactly the safest place in the world with all the crime happening in town. You didn’t have a choice though. Getting a job to help your mother pay for the bills was something you just had to do. You were a waitress at a small diner in town and only made eight dollars an hour. The tips were barley dimes but it was putting food on the table.

Working was actually really good for you. It made you get out the house and get a breath of fresh air. The only thing you didn’t appreciate were the gross and quite frankly bold men that were willing to hit on an eighteen year old.

Juggling school and work wasn’t hard for you either. You were incredibly smart and because of you taking all the required classes in your freshman year, your senior year was flying by in a freeze.

The night was a cold one. You were so exhausted that you had left your jacket back at your job. The goosebumps ran down your arm and the hair stood still. The full moon was bright, beaming on your skin. You would’ve appreciated its beauty if it wasn’t so damn cold.

While you were walking, you saw a man walking towards you. You couldn’t really make out his face with the hood and it being dark. He wore all black clothing too. All you could tell was that he was a tall man.

“Hey, baby let me take you out in a date.”

You cringed at the grown man cat calling you. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to it. It didn’t matter though. You had to power through. You still had a ten minute walk to go.

“No thank you.” You tried to sound cheerful and polite as you made your way past him but he wasn’t going for it.

“I said let me take you.” He grabbed your forearm, keeping you in place. You hissed at the grip and he only made it tighter. He was starting to freak you out.

“Let me go, please.”

The man didn’t say anything. He looked down to your purse, eyeing it intensely before deciding to make the decision to grab it.

Honestly, it may have been stupid to fight him on the purse. Most people would say it isn’t worth your life. Well, to you, it was. That was all you had and you had to get it to your mother.

“Hey! Give it back!” You grabbed your purse but he still had all his strength on the purse.

“Let go, bitch!”

He smacked you across the face, making you fall down. You hit the concrete hard. It was as through the blood was going to your head because you felt dizzy.

Right when he was about to get away, you started to hear choking. It made you focus your eyes on him and that’s when you saw him. Kid Danger.

Kid Danger was choking the man. You never saw him so angry before. The way he was showed on the news made him seem like the funny but cool sidekick. Nothing like this.

He threw in a couple good punches at the man. While choking him. Your eyes were wide at seeing the sight. Blood was coming out the man’s mouth and nose.

After he finished, he held the man in place. The man was too out of it to fight back. “Careful. Don’t fall.” Then Kid Danger forcefully shoved him to the ground. “Aw. You forgot to be careful.”

Amazed was an understatement.

He stepped over the man’s body. Then grabbed the purse that was sitting on the ground. He walked a little ways over to you. You were waiting for him to help you up but he didn’t help you, he picked you up himself.

You were shocked at how strong he was, considering you knew Kid Danger was about your age. He held you, bridal style, looking you in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

He was a superhero. Of course he would show concern but the way he showed you concern felt like he had known you forever. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You say, still star struck at what just happened.

Kid Danger gently placed you on your feet but didn’t let go of you. His hand went to the right side of your cheek, seeing the bruise that was starting to form.

You saw the look of concern quickly turn back to anger. Again, the way he was acting was as if he knew you personally.

“I’m cool. It’s just a scratch.”

Kid Danger nodded but it looked like he wasn’t convinced. He pulled away from you slightly and handed you your purse. When he did, you instantly felt cold again. You started to hug yourself to find warmth.

“You cold?”

The voice. You didn’t know how it was familiar but it was. “A little.”

Kid Danger walked back over to the man. Then forced his jacket off of him. “Hey man that’s mine…” The man said drowsy but Kid Danger wasn’t hearing it. He immediately kicked the man in the stomach, causing him to yell in pain.

You held in your giggle but couldn’t hide your smile when he did that. He wrapped the jacket around you before helping you put your arms in.

“Um, thank you. I could’ve handled it though.” You jokingly said.

Kid Danger chuckled. He lifted your head up to examine the bruise. “Oh, yeah. I can tell.” He said before pulling away. “I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you not to lose your life over a purse.”

Again, the way he scolded you made you think as though he knew you to at least some degree. “Yeah, I know. But I really need it.”

“Must be something important in that purse.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re not the type to lose your life over something so small.”

“She is.” The robber perched up to say. Kid Danger doesn’t even bother to look at him. He takes out his laser pointer and zaps him repeatedly, putting him to sleep.

“Right…” You got back on topic. Then what he said caught your attention. “Not the type?” You asked. “You don’t know me.”

You could see the realization hit his eyes and he let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, totally. Never seen you before in my entire life.” He said then quickly reiterated what he said. “I mean, you just don’t seem like it.”

You nodded, a little skeptical but brushed it off. “Well, it has all the money I made from my job.”

“You work?” Kid Danger asked in surprise.

“Yeah.” He seemed appalled at the idea of working and you placed your hands on your hips. “You know you’re a superhero right?”

Kid Danger put up his arms, flexing his biceps playfully. “I’m gooood though, right?”

His playfulness, the way he was sassy, and the tone all reminded you of one person; Henry Hart.

Henry Hart had been in your class since Kindergarten. The two of you weren’t friends, but really good classmates and the two of you had a good relationship with each other.

But you also had a secret, you had a crush on him.

You always admired him from afar. He was funny and handsome. A guy you thought had it all but every girl in the entire school swooned over him so you never stood a chance.

Kid Danger caught you laughing and smiling which made him smile back at you. “What?”

“You just remind me of someone.”

“Insanely good looking and awesome?”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah, kinda.” You fixed the strap of your purse before extending your hand for him to shake. “I’m, (Y/N).”

Kid Danger took your hand but didn’t shake it. Instead he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles, giving you a little wink. “Nice to meet you.”

You had heard Kid Danger being flirtatious but you weren’t expecting him to be flirty with you. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you pulled your hand away from him. “Oh. Cool. Um. I should be heading home.”

You started to walk away from him but Kid Danger was right on your side, walking with you. “Cool. Lead the way.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head.

“Um, yeah I do.” He pointed to the bruise on your cheek. “I gotta save you from yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Haha. So funny.” Before he could say something, you ended up tripping on a high crack in the concrete but Kid Danger was fast. He caught you.

“Yeah, definitely gotta save you from yourself.”

You looked at him like, curiously. “How can you do that again?”

Kid Danger helped you back up and the two of you started walking again. “Hyper mobility. I got fast reflexes.”

You nodded at the explanation before sighing. “I couldn’t imagine being a hero and saving lives.”

“It’s cool. Stressful but I like helping people.”

“What made you do it anyway?”

“Well, I was looking for a job and Captain Man asked me helicopters or kangaroos, and I said helicopter.”

You gave him an unconvincing look. “You’re serious?”

The look of unbelievable made him laugh. “I know it sounds crazy but basically yeah. Being a superhero has its advantages too.”

You nodded knowingly. “I bet.”

The way you said it made him look at you. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh come on, I bet you have all the girls in town drooling over you.”

The statement made Kid Danger agree. “A lot of girls do drool over me.” Then he had realized what you said. “You saying you’re not one of them?”

“You’re not my type.” You said all with a smile.

He gave you a look like you had offended him. He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m not your type?!”

It made you laugh. “Believe it or not, Kid Danger but you’re not everyone’s type.”

“Hmm.” The two of you walked while he was in deep thought until he eventually gasped like he was a school girl. Then he jokingly hit your shoulder. “You have a crush on someone.”

Your face started to become red. Kid Danger calling you out on your crush had to be the most embarrassing thing that could happen to you. Even though you were pretty much over it. “Um…”

“You totally do. Who is it?”

“You wouldn’t even know.”

“Which is exactly why you should tell me. Where’s the harm in it?”

He was right. He wouldn’t know who it was and it’s not like he was going to go blab to the guy. You bit your lip, fighting the embarrassment that was running through you. “Just some guy at my school.”

Kid Danger seemed even more excited to know who it was. “Who is…?”

He wasn’t going to give it up. That was obvious so you gave in and told him. “Henry Hart.”

He froze. Stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden movement made you stop to. You couldn’t read any other expression besides shock. It was starting to make your heart sink. “Do you know him?”

After the question, Kid Danger quickly coughed like he was choking and shook his head. “What? No. Henry Hart? Such a dumb name.”

He started to walk again and grabbed your hand to make you start back walking. “What do you like about him?”

“Why? Do you want to date him?” You questioned sarcastically.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

You shook your head then sighed. “I don’t know. He’s funny and nice. It’s kinda hard to explain. We’ve known each other since Kindergarten. I mean the crush isn’t really a big deal. It’s starting to go away honestly.”

Kid Danger scoffed like he was offended. “Go away? What did I-i mean-what did he do to start making it go away?”

“I mean, you can’t keep liking the same guy you’ve liked since third grade. Especially the guy that doesn’t really see you.”

“He sees you.”

“How would you know?”

As the two of you walked along the street, a flower vendor was there. Kid Danger stopped in his tracks and pulled out a money clip out his pocket. Then handed the guy some money. He placed the clip back before taking a rose from the stand. He handed you the rose. “Look at you. What guy wouldn’t see you.”

‘Kid Danger? Giving me a rose? Is this really happening?’ You tried to hide your smile but couldn’t. He noticed and smiled back.

The two of you went back to walking. “If that’s the case then why hasn’t he came up to me.”

“Well…maybe it’s because he doesn’t think he has a chance.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. He has every girl at school wrapped around his finger.”

Kid Danger laughed at your comment, wiping his mouth. “I don’t think he has every girl wrapped.”

“He absolutely does.”

“Regardless…maybe it’s because you’re different. I mean, all those other girls are the same but…you’re you. And maybe he doesn’t want to mess that up.”

You listened intently on his advice trying to buy it. It could be true but you honestly didn’t think so. Henry Hart didn’t have feelings for you and that was okay. You were practically over it. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The two of you finally reached to your house. He walked you up your porch steps. “Thanks for walking me home. You didn’t have to do that.” You said while taking the jacket off and handing it to him.

Remembering it was the robber’s coat, he just threw it over his shoulder, hitting the trash can on the curb loudly. It made you shake your head. “Why do you work? Shouldn’t you be focused on school?”

“I need to help pay the bills. My mom can’t do it alone.” You saw the look of pity in his face and you sighed. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. The only bad thing about it is all the grown ass men hitting on me.”

Kid Danger’s jaw clenched. His knuckles were tight and he looked pissed. “What days you work?”

“Just Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.”

“What time?”

“3 to 12. Why?”

Kid Danger grabbed a red marker out his pocket. Then grabbed your arm. He wrote out what appeared to be a phone number on it. “Call me and I’ll walk you.”

You gave him a look as he wrote. “Um. My arm?”

When he was finished, he placed the marker back in his pocket. “Um. It washes off?” He playfully said while copying the tone of your voice.

You looked at the number and then looked back up at him. “Do you give out your number to every girl you save?”

With that question, Kid Danger just winked at you. “Only the pretty ones.”

‘Why did he have to be so flirty with me?’ You didn’t know how many times your face went red tonight with him but it had to of been the one hundredth. “Well. I better get going.”

You tried to rush in your home but he grabbed your arm to stop you. “Make sure you talk to that guy.”

“I already told you. I’m over him. Just an old crush.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

Kid Danger nodded. He took his hand from your arm. “You want to go on a date then?”

The question caught you so off guard that you almost started to choke on your own spit. “Like a coffee date or like-“

“Like the kind I give you flowers, take you to dinner, you tell me everything about yourself and then I get to kiss you at the end.”

You felt your heart beating out of your chest. You both liked how straightforward he was and hated it. There was no way Kid Danger was asking you out.

You started to laugh out nervousness. “What? Well…I mean how is that gonna work? With the whole anonymous superhero thing?”

“You let me take you out on three dates and I’ll take my mask off.”

What you weren’t understanding is why he was so eager to take you? Why did he like you so much? “I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure you got a whole line of women at your feet so I won’t be a bother. I let you go out with them.”

You turned the doorknob to your house, trying to escape the conversation but Kid Danger would not let you. He shut the door and backed up until your back hit the door. It made you drop the rose out of your hand. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

Kid Danger picked the rose up and handed it to you. “You in or not?”

With his assertiveness, you really didn’t even think you had a choice to back out. “Um…when?”

“Tomorrow. 8. Wear red. You look good in it.”

Before you could say anything, he was already walking about from you. Then you thought of something. You weren’t wearing any red. “How does he know I look good in red?”

#x reader #henry danger movie #henry danger x reader #henry danger #henry hart #henry hart x reader

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twig-tea · 1 day ago

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GL Odds and Ends January 2025

I'm still trying to figure out what 2025 means for me in terms of where and how I spend my time, but one thing I am passionate about is making sure there is a record of GL media, so I'm going to try to prioritize keeping this up to at minimum monthly, though I might change up the format. Last one was end of December 2024. If you're interested in GL older than that, check out my GL rec list and my #gl recs tag for the other odds and ends posts. Series new to the roundup are marked with an asterisk*.

Currently airing (with thoughts up to 31 Jan):

Petrichor ep 9/10 (Thai, Saturdays, 10:00 AM ET, iQIYI) I've appreciated the struggle that Tul has gone through in terms of wanting to use her police powers to protect her family though that goes against her morals, and some of the procedural aspects I was grumbling about before have been explained by the plot. However, it still bothers me that she's not a very good detective. That being said, Engfa and Charlotte still have fantastic chemistry, and Na is having what seems like the time of his life.

*Us the series ep 2/12 (Thai, Saturdays, 8:00 AM ET, YouTube) I admit I think I have Chao Planoy fatigue. Age gap, both characters are lying to each other, there are abusive family members, and a guy who seems nice but I'm braced for a reveal about how he's actually awful. I'm feeling like I'm playing bingo. Honestly If someone gets hit by a car I might lose it. All my baggage aside, the pacing on this feels uneven and it doesn't feel like it has its feet yet.

*Call Me By No Name ep 4/8 (Japanese, Thursdays, 12:30 PM ET, GagaOOLala) Honestly I am not buying the romance between these two protagonists and I am finding them a little overwrought.

*Trunk Girl ep 1/? (Korean, possibly Thursdays, YouTube) This has just started, and the vibes are off. I am suspicious of the circumstances that led this runaway to stay with her friend, especially when she kissed her in her sleep (and I don't mean suspicious of sapphic feelings, those are already taken as given considering the genre).

*FirstLOVE ep 5/? (Korean, Mondays, YouTube) Toxic girlfriend gets replaced and then regrets letting her lover go. We'll see how this ends but this is another messy drama that feels pretty rough.

*I Am Devil ep 5/? (Thai, Saturdays, YouTube) Gonna be honest with y'all I watched ep1 and shelved the rest, it's a pulp in the style of high drama like Sastra and JPC below produce and just isn't my jam. If you're looking for high heat lakorn-style drama, give this a try.

[Note: Mate is still airing if you did not fast track, but since I did I've included it in the following section]

Recently Completed:

The Fragrance You inherit 8eps 25mins each (Japanese, 8 Nov 24-27 Dec 24, no official distribution but fansub on @isaksbestpillow's blog[thank you Siiri!] I loved this finale and wrote about it here. For those who don't want to click the link, in short this is not a romance but a really beautiful and sweet show about all kinds of interpersonal relationships.

Pluto 12eps 45 mins each (Thai, 19 Oct 24-04 Jan 25, YouTube) This series showcased the skills and chemistry of Namtan and Film, and had some of the most iconic product placement in a GL to date. The plot was messy but held together, and as much as I was unimpressed with their choices week to week, their choices made sense within the narrative (and genre) being told. I knew this one wasn't for me, but what it was doing, it did pretty well, and beautifully. The one real ding from me was the use of blindness as a metaphor that essentially got handwaved away; that and I think it was doing too much. But I am glad that before that, there was some great use of their platform to highlight the importance of universal design.

INTP 4eps 5 mins each (Korean, 27 Dec 24-22 Jan 25 YouTube) This is the latest short series from RedQ, who produced some of my favourite GL short series including More than or equal to 75 degrees C, and To the Ex who Hated Me. I said when this started that the setup of this one reminded me of Semantic Error if SangWoo realized he was attracted to JaeYoung at their first group assignment meeting, and I think that holds. These two fell for each other because they both care about the group project, and both protect each other. It's a bit short but I found it very sweet.

Mate, 12eps 50+ mins each (Thai, 26 Nov 24-28 Jan 25 fast-track or 4 Feb 25, WeTV (uncut version)) In the end this show remained a struggle for me. There were things it was doing that I really liked (the characters tried hard not to resort to noble idiocy, and when characters did resort to noble idiocy they were confronted with the consequences, for example), and things that I really did not, and there were parts that were really hard to watch and will haunt me. There are a lot of things I like about this show, so I don't want to discourage views. Just go into this one informed, and make the decision that's right for you.

*Adrenaline 4eps 15 mins each (Thai, 10 Jan-31 Jan 25, YouTube) This show is a cross between a travel ad and a lakorn. This is a major spoiler, but the main character has a secret condition where she forgets things that causes her to forget her first time with her girlfriend!? This show is so messy lol

Recent One-offs, Side Couples, etc.:

Fireworks of Yesteryear/When We Met has been made available on YouTube. A 35-minute Chinese GL that includes a makeout and as a result the production team have been working hard to get it in front of eyeballs. This is a moody piece with an open ending; there's an age gap too so YMMV (30s and 22).

GL microseries Your Name Engraved Herein (not to be confused with the BL feature film) has been subtitled by @douqi7s. Watch the original on Bilibili and enjoy the subs on YouTube. This one is also melancholy but it's some really tight storytelling in under 2 mins and manages to feel hopeful even though it's sad.

There is a lesbian side couple in Flirt Milk the series (airing now on iQIYI). This couple Noon and Praewa previously appeared as sides in Love Senior.

There is a new MV featuring a lesbian couple for the artist KnomJean on YouTube. This is one of those MVs that tells a story (TW for family violence) and after getting through the sad backstory, celebrates marriage equality in Thailand.

IdolFactory is re-running GAP the series on YouTube. If you've been putting off watching, now is a good time!

Speaking of re-runs, Yes Or No and the two sequel/spinoffs (Yes or No 2, and Yes or No 2.5) are all newly on GagaOOLala for streaming in some regions (I know for sure they're in North America, not sure about others)

Uranus2324 is starting to show up in particular places on the internet. I watched it and after all of the negative things I'd heard I actually liked it lol I'll see if I can write about it more this week

My suspected wlw sides in See Your Love ended up being implied only I was a little sad about this but at least I wasn't imagining the vibes.

Mom Ped Sawan is still airing but I still don't have a source for subs

Sastra film app YouTube channel has several short Cambodian GL series that come out weekly Honestly they are not to my taste but I don't like gatekeeping GL especially from smaller markets. I check in on these time to time and if there are any that I think are great I'll give them a shout-out

Ditto above with JPC media YouTube channel for Thai GL shorts if there are any that stand out to me I'll say so; that being said I haven't had time recently so if I've missed anything good let me know!

Starting soon:

Reverse With Me (sequel spinoff to Reverse 4 U), Thai, 5 Feb, iQIYI and Ch3+ app

Fragrance of the First Flower s2, Taiwanese, 18 February 2025, GagaOOLala ok this isn't that soon but I'm just so excited we're getting this second season after all!

As always, if I'm missing anything, please let me know!

#gl series #gl recs #gl meta #sapphic media #typed so that i can stop thinking it #petrichor the series #pluto the series #mate the series #kimi no tsugu kaori wa #the fragrance you inherit #intp the series #us the series #call me by no name #trunk girl the series #firstlove the series

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diazsdimples · 2 days ago

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Buck is going to throw up. Probably. The panic attack is barely being kept in place as he flings himself from the driver’s seat of the jeep and races up the stairs of the Diaz house.

“Maddie!” he yells, kicking his shoes to the side and throwing off his jacket. Usually he’d knock but today, it’s an emergency. His brain isn’t working, not even considering the fact that he might be waking up his 3-month-old nephew as he powers through the house calling his sister’s name. “Maddie, are you home?”

“In here!” his sister’s voice echoes down the hall, originating from the kitchen. He finds her making lunch, the baby strapped to her chest in a muslin wrap, like a little joey in his mother’s pouch.

God, she’s glowing like this. She’d had a rough start, postpartum depression rearing its head in the first few weeks, but she’s seeing a therapist, and Eddie’s managed to negotiate some time off work. She still has bad days, but on the whole, she seems happier. Lighter.

Her brow furrows as she takes in his dishevelled appearance, and her hand comes up to cup the back of the baby’s head.

“Evan? What’s going on?”

Buck does a quick scan of their surroundings – they seem to be alone in the kitchen at least, but he needs to know if they’re alone in the house. He can’t do this if there’s a chance someone will walk in and interrupt.

“I-Is Eddie home?”

“No, he’s out getting Benjamin some new diapers. Why?”

“Good, I just – you can’t tell him what I’m about to tell you. You promise?”

Maddie’s brow furrows and she rounds the kitchen island, taking Buck’s arm and leading him into the lounge. She unwraps Benjamin and carefully places him in his bassinet before turning and giving Buck her full attention.

“Are you in trouble?”

God, isn’t that the question?

“No! I mean, yes? Maybe? Probably. Eddie’s going to kill me, at least.” Buck scrubs a rough hand over his face, hoping the slight sting will clear his head a little.

“I feel like a bit of context wouldn’t go amiss here,” Maddie comments with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed across her chest. She looks decidedly unimpressed, and honestly, Buck can’t blame her. He’d be a bit annoyed if she burst into his house, announced something was wrong, and then proceeded to be extremely cryptic about it all.

“Adriana’s pregnant,” he blurts out before his courage wanes, and holy fuck, it’s one thing to know and a whole other thing to admit out loud.

Maddie’s expression pulls into one of confusion, and Buck can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she tries to connect the dots.

“Adriana’s…. pregnant?” she repeats slowly, and he nods. He feels like he’s swallowed a ball of lead, and there’s sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades, prickling his skin. “And what does that, uh, what does that have to do with you?”

Right. This part, admittedly, will be worse to reveal. This is where the disowning and being thrown bodily from the home of his sister and his best friend will come in. Buck is regretting a lot of choices right about now.

“A-Adriana and I, we’ve – uh – we’ve been, um, sleeping together, kind of.”

Maddie’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and Buck slouches a little further into the couch, making himself small.

“Kind of?” Maddie echoes, incredulous. “How do you ‘kind of’ sleep with someone. Did you trip and fall into her vagina?”

“Jesus, okay it’s not kind of, we are sleeping together. And now she’s pregnant and – fucking hell Maddie, I’m so screwed. I’ve fucked up.”

His sister looks less than impressed, and that makes Buck’s stomach roil. He feels sick, so so sick that he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“And I presume that’s why you don’t want me to tell Eddie this?”

“He’ll kill me, Mads! Please, you can’t tell him. He doesn’t even know that –”

“That you fucked his sister?” Maddie cuts in.

“Hey, don’t say it like that!” Buck says, affronted. “He fucked my sister too, by the way. First!”

“He’s my husband! That’s different!”

“He wasn’t when you started!”

Maddie holds up her hands in surrender, glancing nervously at Benjamin as he stirs in his crib. His little face screws up and he lets out a tiny whine that burrows deep into Buck’s chest, igniting a dormant protective instinct that only flares up when he’s around helpless creatures.

“Give me a second.” Maddie crosses the room and lifts her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to the soft hair on his head. He squirms in her arms, shifting and stretching before eventually settling back down. With a fond smile, Maddie makes her way back to the couch and holds the baby out for Buck to take, which he willingly does.

#911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #adriana diaz #maddieeddie #eddiemaddie #meddie #badriana #911 #911 crack #911 au

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steviewashere · 2 days ago

Text

Little Town Bar Bathroom

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor vomiting in the beginning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Steve is tipsy for a good majority of this fic Tags: No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural Elements, Modern Setting AU, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Fluff, Bartender Eddie Munson, Tipsy Steve Harrington, It Starts in a Bar Bathroom, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Down on His Luck Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Countdown to New Years, First Kiss, Implied Getting Together, Happy Ending Also here on AO3, because this one is over 5k words 😬

🎆—————🎆 Working at a bar had its perks. There was a consistent stream of regulars that he constantly talked to. He could change up the specials menu whenever he wanted—adding his own flare to the mix, if he so pleased. Sometimes, he had reign over the music. And, more often than not, he was allowed a free drink by the end of his shift.

The downsides, however, were long and weary. Customers who didn’t know what they were ordering, who swore him to Satan’s asshole if he got something wrong, and tried to barge their way in with fake IDs (as if he wasn’t going to check them). Oftentimes, the bar was packed and too hot and made him sweat like nobody’s business—hell, his shower had a run for its money the other night from how pervasive his musk had been. The last major issue he had took place in the bathrooms.

Given that this is a bar he works at, the stalls often fill with every drunk imaginable. The quiet ones that need a moment to breathe, the guys who can’t keep their hands to themselves (who Eddie has to often throw out), a few who are completely sober and just there to piss, and then the oddball loner. But since they’re drunk—well, the bathroom is often the majority of their custodial staff’s paycheck. Eddie doesn’t handle all that vomit bullshit well, despite tending the very thing causing customers to do that.

It’s tonight, though—New Years Eve, forty minutes to midnight, forty minutes to 2023—that the very thing he hates leads him to the only thing he unconditionally loves. He’s cleaning up the spilled beer on his countertop when he gets the innate, incredible urge to pee. The bar is crowded, so he wrestles in another tender, and speeds away to the men’s restroom. Everything’s going according to plan, as much of a plan as there is when it comes to using a public bathroom, up until he hears it. Somebody in the stall adjacent to him, retching up their entire soul in the toilet bowl.

He winces, just finished drying his hands off, anxiety teeming like water about to boil over, and moves on autopilot to knock on the door. “Y’alright in there, man?” Looking at the bottom of the door, he spots only one pair of sneakers—some Nike Cortez that are roughed up and peeling, falling apart from how much they’ve been used—assuming is easy; the guy doesn’t have any buddies in the bathroom with him. “Noticing there’s nobody else but us in here right now,” Eddie comments. “Can I fetch somebody for you? Help you get home?”

The guy jerks with another sound, moaning miserably once he’s done. He flushes the toilet, but makes no other move. “Alone,” he musters, “she just left me here.”

Eddie bites his tongue. Failed New Years date. Oh, boy. He sighs quietly. “Do you, uh, have someone you can call? Or…uh, I could see if my manager’s free, she could order you a Lyft? They should be free tonight, considering everybody’s drinking.”

“I…I’ll be fine,” the stranger croaks, “been in here a while. I’m sobering. Barely had anything to drink, honest.”

“You think you’re done with the worst of it? Make your way outta the stall?”

“Why? So you can berate me for making a mess of your bathrooms?”

Jeez, this guy is defensive. “No, man. So that I could get you some water, a ride home, maybe some food?”

He groans in the stall, still hunched over the toilet. “Don’t wanna go back out there. Got a fucking headache, all the booze and shit will make it worse.”

Eddie rubs a tired hand over his forehead. “My shift’s over in literally five minutes. Would you…would you feel comfortable enough to go to the diner next door with me? I’ve got some Advil in my employee locker. And I could get you a cheeseburger.”

The guy goes completely quiet and still.

He goes to try and shimmy around with the door, maybe get it off its hinges or something, make sure he’s not choking or—

But then he sniffles softly. “That sounds really nice,” he says, “you’re really nice. What’s…what’s your name?”

“Eddie, and yours?”

“Steve,” he breathes. “Sorry I’m such a sack of crap. Wasting your time.”

“Mm, you’re making it easier for me to clock out, actually. Wasting my time would be somebody trying to return a drink that’s been remade correctly five times. That’s when somebody should be sorry.” He peers down at his watch, right on the money to clock out. “I’m gonna get myself out of the schedule and I’ll come back to get you, okay? We’ll just hang out at the diner. And…I’ve got Lyft on my phone, I’ll call you one when you’re feeling a bit better.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs. “I’ll be waiting.”

He makes a quick turn out of the bathroom, rushing back towards the break room before he can get caught and berated by the other bartender he left to attend to customers. It’s as easy as 1-2-3, punching out, putting away his apron, and grabbing for his things inside his locker. Thankfully, there’s still a bottle of Advil. Granted, there’s only enough for one dose and he typically needs to take one after his shift for his sore feet, but he’ll make do this one time. This one exception—Steve.

Once back in the restroom, the stall that Steve occupied is now empty. Though, standing at the sink and lazily washing his hands is probably the most gorgeous stranger Eddie’s ever seen. Blue jeans and a deep red sweater, hidden under a tattered, brown leather jacket. Lean and tall, broad shoulders, big hands; moles dotting every square inch of bare skin, pink lips, droopy hazel eyes, and a nose that could rival every statue masterpiece. Then, he makes direct eye contact with Eddie.

Caught out. Stilled. But then he chuckles awkwardly, trying to ease some sort of tension—a tension Eddie can’t see. “Managed to get away from the toilet,” he says, “room’s spinnin’ a little.”

Quickly, Eddie’s coming up beside him, placing his left hand on Steve’s back. “How much did you drink, man? Somebody should’ve cut you off.”

“Only a few shots and a beer,” Steve mutters. “Guess I’m more of a lightweight than I thought I was? I don’t know…don’t know…it’s been a while. Usually come here when I got someone to sit down with.” His head lolls back down towards his hands, scrubbing at them loosely under the water. There’s a tired, defeated, sad glint in his eyes. “Been striking out,” he mumbles, “people looking for…for situationships. I don’t even know…what does that mean? I wanted a date, not sex.”

Eddie sighs through his nose and eases his hand up and down the curve of Steve’s spine, petting him as if to soothe him. Which, he supposes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. It’s not the first time he’s met a person out of their luck, crying into their drink. But the look in Steve’s eyes physically hurts. It reopens a hot chasm inside of him, bubbling like magma.

“Just take a minute,” Eddie murmurs, “let the room settle.”

Steve nods, slow and tired. Heavy. “Sorry, Eddie. I swear I’m better than this.” There’s a flash of a smile at those words, one that falls away just as quick as it came. He sniffles again, wet and unmistakeable. “Gonna be ringing in the new year alone, though. And I’ve got a headache. But…hey, I met you. Highlight of my night.”

When he chances a new look of Steve’s face fully, Eddie notes the fresh tracks of tears staining ruddy red cheeks. He coos softly under his breath, pressing his hand more firmly into his back, and stretches out to grab a distant paper towel. The water is still streaming from the faucet, and so he dips the napkin’s edge into the warm pour. Gently, he shifts Steve to face him better and brings the damp corner to his cheeks, patting over the tracks, rejuvenating the color in Steve’s skin so that it all matches.

For a moment, he’s caught out by the still watering hazel eyes on him—damn gorgeous they are, even like this—but they blink at him and he feels it, the stretch of Steve’s small smile. He returns it, of-fucking-course he returns it.

“Let’s get you cheered up, baby,” Eddie says softly, “the sky’s too full of fireworks for you to be sad.”

His palm strokes over Steve’s back, a heavy sweep of warmth. There’s the lulling rise and fall of his lungs, each breath unwavering and strong now, and not as nasally as it had been only moments prior. A hand sets on Eddie’s left hip, secure where it rests, fingers tightening into his belt loops.

“You always hang out with random strangers from the bar?” Steve questions quietly. There’s a hint, a little bit of something coating those words. A tidbit of heartbreak, if he had to give a name to it.

This close, Eddie can smell the last dredges of alcohol on Steve’s breath. There’s also the scent of his cologne, even as stale as it’s gone when he’d been hunched over the toilet, but it lingers. Peppery and warm and decadent like a slice of apple pie from the diner next door. He’s already getting that Steve’s as sweet as one, just needs to be righted slightly so it stands tall on the center of the plate.

The next words out of his mouth are tender and quiet, “No,” Eddie whispers, “you’re the only one.”

Steve hums, soaking up just as pie crust does. His hand tightens again on Eddie’s side. And then he sways them, half-steps, knees knocking. The sink is still streaming and there’s red rimming Steve’s honey eyes. It’s all so private. It’s almost just theirs.

“Saying I’m an exception?” Steve then murmurs.

His words land like gentle pecks to Eddie’s lips. And they’re closer than before. And he’d let them get even closer, if there was room.

“Why, you wanna be?”

“Mhm,” Steve buzzes.

The restroom door opens, a foot sandwiched in the gap of their space and the entire world. Eddie doesn’t let go, even if he was supposed to. Steve does, wearily aware. He finds himself not disappointed, though, not even in the slightest.

“You wanna be an exception over burgers now? There’s apple pie, too.”

“Yeah, Eds”—and oh, how that makes his chest flutter something incredible, his heart a newborn bird eager to take flight—“I wanna be your exception.”

If he wasn’t intrigued and swooning before, he most definitely is now.

But as it is, he simply pats Steve on the back and leads him out towards the bar again. Zipping through crowds of girls and forcing his way between boys about to brawl. There’s beer spilling out onto his clothes, that he hopes isn’t getting on Steve’s—doesn’t want to tarnish the absolute darling beauty he’s managed to rescue from the swamps of a muggy bar bathroom. Though, maybe it’s unavoidable. Maybe it’s just what is meant to happen.

Because something about Steve, his hand gripped tight in Eddie’s, the bounce of his step, his glassy eyes and loose smile when Eddie looks over his shoulder—something about the Steve of it all feels as close to myth alive as he’s allowed to believe. And, well, if there are more than three religions and some people don’t believe in any of it at all, then he can hold onto whatever the hell he wants. If Steve at his heels, chest slamming into his back as the cold outside air finally whips them in the face, is destiny, then…Eddie finally believes in destiny.

When the bar’s doors slam behind them and they’re overcome with the noise of distant fireworks and cars rolling by on crowded asphalt, Eddie begins to let go. Though, Steve grips to his fingers a smidge tighter than before.

“Wow,” Steve breathes beside him.

Eddie looks to him. His profile. The sharp angle of his nose, droop of his eyes, and curve of his easy smile. He follows his gaze, up to the sky.

A spattering of stars, only broken by the even brighter bursts of twinkling fireworks. Pinks and yellows and whites travel stark across the sky, each ember firing like a shooting star going home. He places his right hand over his chest, the beating of his heart a tumultuous, daunting thing. And he sighs, panting a short breath—

Let me keep him, he wishes, after tonight, let me have him. Please?

Steve squeezes their hands together, fingers sprawling so they can intertwine. His palm is sweaty, he’s shaking slightly. He laughs, though, a sputtering, unbelievable sound. “Thank god I’m outta there,” he whispers. Eddie gazes at the stretch of his neck, how his Adam’s apple resettles after bobbing out each individual word. There’s moles dotting there, too. Constellations, even more wonderful than the stars above them.

At least, Eddie thinks so. Objectively, he’s correct. Won’t hear anybody else on the matter.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and turns his eyes back to the sky. “Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you can only take so much being cramped in there. Everything’s a little more…”

“Sobering?”

“Real,” he corrects. “Everything’s more real.”

Their fingers are pretzeled together still. And as if to punctuate Eddie’s point, Steve makes him feel the pressure of their hands. As if to say, “We’re a little more real out here, too.” He supposes they are. And he supposes the budding warmth in his sternum—where he’s believed his soul to be his whole life—is real, too.

Eddie blinks, watching white streaks dissipate through the sky. His stomach grumbles, though, and he’s reminded with a back-handed slap why they’re out here. There’s plenty of time to watch fireworks later, but he’s only got such staggering minutes with Steve. And he promised food.

Maybe it’s too honest and maybe it’s a lot stupid—considering Steve is still such a stranger, an enigma to his brain—but he’d promise a whole lot more if he was allowed.

For now, he starts to drag them towards the diner. Only met with minor resistance from Steve’s stance. He relents quickly, though. Following after Eddie like a lost, scruffy puppy. Through the next burst of fireworks, he hears Steve’s stomach give a low grumble, too.

The greasy air of the diner hits him in one strong gust. Salt and cheese and a sprinkling of cinnamon. Pink bubblegum, too, as a hostess greets them at the door and leads them to a booth in the back right corner of the restaurant. The vinyl must be sticky when Steve bounces onto it, grimacing as his fingertips stay stuck like paw-pads on ice. Eddie finds out a second later when he saddles in right across from Steve, collecting the menus from the edge of the table as the hostess struts away to her bored stool at the coffee counter.

He hands over one menu, Steve taking it from him gingerly. With a passing, soft, “Thanks.” His eyes fall to the plastic sheet in his hands, seemingly enthralled by everything there is to choose from.

Eddie already knows what he wants, choosing to gaze ahead.

There’s a tiny pout to Steve’s lips, subtle an gentle, but definitely present. He’s muttering under his breath, thumbs tracing down the margins of the menu, half-formed sentences like, “Cheeseburger…tomatoes…lettuce—hmph—bacon optional, sounds good.” Steve takes the sleeve of his jacket and brings it up under his nose, wiping hastily at its tip. His face isn’t puffy or red anymore, just tinged with exhaustion. Even like this, slumped over a menu and recovering ever so slowly from the cold that had seeped into their bones and the roller coaster of emotions that had worked through their combined blood, Steve’s beauty is magnetic. But his thinking face? His consideration? His marveling wonder outside?

Aside from his looks, the rest of him still draws Eddie in.

Or maybe Eddie’s easier than he thought he was.

Or…or…Eddie knows what he wants.

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathes, “they’ve got fucking onion rings.”

“They’re pretty good,” Eddie amends.

Steve slams his menu to the surface of the table, hands spread, eyes wide insistently. “Of course they’re fucking good! They’re onion rings!” he softly exclaims. “Ooo, get ‘em with barbecue sauce and a Dr. Pepper? That right there is the champion of all meals.”

“Is that what you want?”

The menu’s picked up again. “Mmm…it does sound good…nah,” Steve says, eyes intense on the choices, “I’m still lookin’.”

Eddie snorts indignantly and greets their waitress. Ordering a basket of onion rings for the table, a couple waters, and a Dr. Pepper for “The man of the hour” with a half-gesture at Steve still muttering under his breath. It’s endearing how long it takes for Steve to finally settle on something, even if their combined grumbling stomachs get louder and louder, roaring over the tinny television in the opposite corner to their booth.

“You better pick something soon, else Anderson Cooper’s gonna blackout before the ball drops,” he gently teases, head nodding to the television. Steve looks to it, snorts, and glances back down at the menu. “I could also just pick something for you, if you’re too indecisive?”

“Chicken tenders,” Steve decides, “with crispy fries and a side of ranch.”

“Are you twelve?”

“Hey,” he objects defensively. “I happen to be a man of taste, thank you very much. It just so happens that I’ve got a young soul ’s’all.”

Eddie hums, face betraying him as it splits with a shining smile. Jeez, this guy is endearing. He leans over the table a bit, resting his chin in his hand; Steve mirrors him, smirking. Soft and low, he asks, “You still got a headache, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “It’ll probably stick with me tomorrow morning. Which sucks. I should’a left the bar as soon as my date stormed off. Would’a saved me a lot of trouble.”

But then you wouldn’t have met me, he wants to say, and that would suck worse.

“I’ve got Advil when the water comes. It’s the last dose in the bottle, but it should help. And also the Dr. Pepper. Caffeine might be good.”

“I don’t wanna take the last of your pills, man. You probably need it more than I do. Been working all day on your feet, I’m sure.”

He merely shrugs. “Yeah, well…I wanna help you. It’ll bring me some comfort if I can make you feel even a bit better, y’know?” Steve doesn’t say anything to that. Just looks at him like a confused, lost dog. Like he’s being offered scraps from a hand that doesn’t shake when he sniffs it. “But if it really bothers you,” Eddie continues, “then we can figure out a way for you to make it up to me.”

Steve cozies deeper into his hand, blinking long at Eddie. “That sounds good,” he breathes. “Say the word…”

“We’ll figure it out before you go home, okay? Not something for you to worry about now.” He fishes the bottle of Advil from his pants’ pocket and opens it swiftly, spilling the tablets into the well of his palm. Steve’s other hand is flopped over on the table, atop his menu, relaxed. Eddie places the pills in his hand and closes his fingers. No argument. “After you eat, I’ll order your Lyft. And then…maybe I can get your number?” He’s cautious about the conversation, though the words hit him at once. Failed date, New Years Eve, situationship. Eddie rushes to add, “Just so that you can text me when you get home safely, that’s all. Don’t…I don’t wanna come off as, like, preying on you or something. Y’know, after the whole…Yeah. Just. Wanna make sure you get home safe.”

As soon as the breath rushes out of him, it’s like Steve breathes it in, responding with a syrupy, tired giggle fit. His hand fists the Advil tablets tighter. A flush colors his skin, travels down his neck as he loses himself to his laughter. The stretch of his smile and sprawl of his giggles make his nostrils flare. And Eddie doesn’t know how, after seeing the same on so many other guys, but the way Steve’s face simply moves with his joy stirs something in him. Awakes a part that had been hiding in a seemingly unending hibernation.

Shit.

Catching his breath and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, Steve resettles. Breathes, “You were so worried!”

“I was!” Eddie exclaims. He makes a dramatic show of crossing his arms over his chest, pouting his lips. “I didn’t wanna overstep. It’d be un-gentlemanly of me.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs, breath finally caught. There’s a big, goofy smile on his face still. His eyes glassy with—what Eddie assumes to be—happy tears. “You’ve already treated me way better than ninety percent of the dates I’ve been on, man. Don’t worry about…about being careful when asking for my number.” He rests in his palm again, his posture growing tired, slumping into the table. “I was gonna give it to you anyway.”

“Ninety percent? Who the hell do I need to fight?”

“People who are…unimportant and too full of themselves? I don’t know, Eds, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably just…I don’t know,” Steve murmurs. He shrugs half-heartedly again. “I’m gonna go home after this and go to bed, wake up with a raging headache, and probably wish that you were still sitting across from me. Feel like you’d know how to make it better.”

Eddie hums. “Well,”—he positions himself better, sitting up in his seat and folding his hands on the table—“tonight, I’m gonna make sure you ring in the New Year happier than you are right now. And then, when you get home, you’ll text me that you did. I’ll tell you to have a goodnight’s sleep. In the morning, when you wake up, I’ll text you again, ask if you want some coffee. Maybe, if you’re comfortable, I could bring it over to your place and we could have a simple breakfast?”

“You’d do that?”

“If you want me to.”

Steve goes silent, noticeably contemplative. His eyes adrift to the table. In the mean time, Eddie orders their food and passes over the drinks when they arrive. He nudges Steve to take his pills and points out something that Anderson Cooper’s doing on the television.

But he doesn’t bring up tomorrow morning, not right now at least.

Because maybe he’s overstepping this. He’s putting himself in a position Steve doesn’t want him in. Only thirty minutes ago, they were complete strangers in a bathroom bar, groaning and grumbling at each other for being so defensive and combative. Maybe Steve’s got a friend waiting for him back home? Waiting to let him back inside and take care of him in the secret way only true friends know how.

They aren’t anything more than mere acquaintances. No matter how many half-lidded flirty glances Steve passes his way. No matter how many times Eddie’s eyes wander to Steve’s mouth as he gobbles down his serving of onion rings, a wish ringing out in his head, words caught star-bound in his throat, admiring.

He’s allowed to admire.

Not allowed to have, though.

And maybe he won’t ever get there. This will be it. A late night dinner, wishing Happy New Years, jokes tossed across the table like clumsy frisbees taking flight, and an aching in his chest. Feelings blooming in his sternum so suddenly, so abrasively, they’re thorns staggered sharp into his lungs.

He breathes, his chest seizes, and the whiff of Steve’s stale cologne burrows inside him. He blinks, his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and Steve’s strong shining summer smile brands to the deep crevices of Eddie’s brain. He laughs, their giggles blend, and the process starts all over again.

Is this what sunflowers feel like? Soaking up the sun, all that they can, and then begin the brittle early death of wilting into oneself? They have to wait so long to be born again.

Eddie doesn’t want this to be a one time thing, dead in the middle of winter, dead before it could be alive.

Steve will have his number, though. He’ll have a weakened headache in the morning now that he’s had some caffeine and begun processing a couple Advil. From there, though, the future is possible, but unseen. He’s not sure if he’s even something Steve could be looking for.

Wishful thinking, he tells himself, hopeful wishing.

“Dude, try this!”

He blinks back to himself, presented with a chicken tender thrusted into his face. It’s dripping in ranch, so Steve’s hand is cupped underneath it, trying to save the table. Eddie gapes, looking to Steve’s face.

The chicken tender is pushed into his space harder. “These are the best tenders I’ve ever had in my fucking life, and I need you to support me on this. Try it.”

At Steve’s request, he gingerly takes a bite. For some odd reason, he finds himself holding their intent and intense eye contact, unwavering. It’s just a chicken tender, nothing to write home about. Not like it tastes any different than the ones he can pick up from the Dairy Queen by his apartment, but if Steve’s saying it’s the best one he’s had…

“That’s pretty fuckin’ bomb, Stevie,” he says. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the complete truth. But it does earn him bright eyes and warm cheeks, a side by side dance in the booth across from him, and a pleased little grin. So…maybe these chicken tenders are the best, especially if they get a pretty boy like Steve to look at him like that.

“Told you,” Steve says around his next bite—half of a chicken tender and two folded onion rings. “You ever dip ‘em in gravy, though? That would blow away your socks, blow up your mind, and suck your dick.”

“You, uh, you really don’t fuck around when it comes to chicken tenders, do you?”

“I don’t fuck around with anything. I’m a set-in-stone kind of guy.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Eddie involuntarily choke on air, his eyes drifting away, flush high on his cheeks. He takes a few, quiet bites of his cheeseburger. It’s mediocre and spilling with grease, the bun is stale and the ketchup is weirdly cold, but he savors it. At least it isn’t another basket of tortilla chips and jarred salsa from the bar—he’d probably rip out his own stomach if he had to eat any more of those.

Steve tries to offer him another chicken tender, but Eddie pushes it back gently towards him. Tries not to coo over the soft, sad pout that the gesture earns him. “It’s your food,” he says, “I wanna make sure you eat it, sweetheart. You need it more than me.”

“But I wanna share it with you.”

“Stevie,” he murmurs, “I’ve already got my”—

He’s offered the chicken again. With a very forceful, “Take a bite. You worked for hours, I can tell from how tired you seem, and I want to share this with you.” And then—the bastard—adds a puppy-eyed pout to say, “Please? It would help me feel better.”

Eddie sighs dramatically, leaning forward and taking another bite. He raises his eyebrows, gazing at Steve as he rescinds his food offering. “Happy now?”

Steve nods, smiling as he does so. “Very.” He pops a fry in his mouth and crunches down on it, his grin as big as the Cheshire Cat’s. And then, his focus goes back on his basket of food, none the wiser to Eddie’s openly affectionate adoration.

He forces himself to look away, to stop getting caught up on the Steve of it all, this night. Probably one of the best New Years Eves he’s ever had. Eddie takes a deep breath, though, and looks to the television.

Forty seconds to midnight.

How’d their night drive by so damn fast?

“You gonna count down with me?” Eddie asks, interrupting the lull of silence that filled between them.

“Mm, among one other thing, yeah.”

“What other”—

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve quickly adds, dropping his food into his basket, “how much time do we have?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

He watches Steve wipe his fingers on a nearby napkin, counting aloud with “Fourteen.”

And as the numbers go down, Steve pushes himself closer over the table. Eddie can only match with him.

Ten.

This close, Steve no longer smells like his cologne. Just barbecue sauce and onion rings, the grease from chicken tenders, and a lighter thing that he can’t quite place. Something happy, whatever it is.

Eight.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have nice eyes, Stevie?”

“Don’t think anybody’s really taken notice.”

“Well…”—Eddie breathes gently—“you have really nice eyes.”

Five.

Steve slides his hand across the table, gripping for Eddie’s left. Their fingers tangle, pretzeled together. Warm, even there. His smile is warmer, though, and Eddie begins melting at the sight of it. He wonders if Steve is thinking the same thing.

Three.

“Two,” Eddie breathes.

He squeezes their hands. “One,” Steve sighs. And with it, he surges the last few inches over the table, pulling Eddie towards him, planting a delicate kiss on his lips. It doesn’t carry longer than a couple seconds, but it lingers. Lingers like the decadent, sweet scent of apple pie. They’ll have to get slices before parting.

The diner fills with cheers, whoops and hollers. There’s a burst of multi-colored light outside, painting the left side of Steve’s face with pinks and blues and yellows. Maybe it’s all so cliche. Maybe Eddie tripped and fell, went into some head trauma-induced coma where he can only dream of a picture perfect world waiting for him.

But Steve squeezes his hand again, fingernails pinching into his soft skin.

Eddie knows he’s awake.

The haziness has cleared from Steve’s eyes, replaced with romantic determination. And Eddie knows he must be mirroring something like that, too.

“Happy New Years, Steve.”

“Happy New Years, Eddie,” he murmurs—the breath ghosts over Eddie’s lips, close enough to kiss them—“best night I’ve had in a really long while, thank you.”

He wants to kiss him again, so he does. Gentle and quick, sweetly though, and drenching.

If a night could last forever, he’d pick this one right here.

“My pleasure,” he says and means it to the core of his soul.

“Can I take you up on that coffee tomorrow? I have donuts back home, we could make a morning of it.”

Eddie swallows, sure that Steve hears him. His palm sweats and the thing inside him, stirring and rolling the whole night, is finally, finally alert. “Of course, sweetheart”—it fills him with giddy pride the way that nickname brings a flush to Steve’s cheeks—“what time?”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready. I wanna hear your morning voice.”

“You flatter me.”

Steve raises their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Eddie’s. His lips are sticky, somehow, but sweet. The next time they kiss, he hopes Steve tastes like pie. “Good,” Steve whispers, “you deserve to be flattered now.”

And maybe it wasn’t the most romantic start to their relationship…

But Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

🎆—————🎆

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern au #hurt/comfort #mostly comfort #bartender eddie munson

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