#chances are the one you think is missing was on there and just couldn't fit lol

[rocketbaby]

please can you do some pro hero izuku… maybe with secret dating? but he gets jealous or something… ugh i love jealous izu!!!

would love nsfw too but not required! 🩷 thanks in advance if you do the request!

Argshhshh i love this sm,thank you for the request!!<3

Izuku is 25 here and reader is 20+(Afab reader)

Tw this is nsfw

---cumming inside, penetration, reader receiving, fingering and I think that's all,lemme know if I missed anything

-he cums so quickly he can't last long:((

Izuku was always the type of guy who enjoyed keeping things more private and especially since he became a pro hero,he thinks it's mature this way.Not because he was embarrassed of you or because he had something to hide but he believes that if no one knows about it(your relationship with him),no one can ruin it.

He's also a bit scared of dating you because if any villains would find out about it,they would use you to get to izuku and he just couldn't risk you getting harmed in any way. He wouldn't allow anyone to hurt his pretty girl.

So when you and him started dating you both came to an understanding and you won't reveal the relationship for a while at least.

Since no one knows about you and him,you would often get hit on and most guys that would pass by you would always find a way to flirt with you.

You were good looking so can you really blame them?

Izuku would avoid being around you in public spaces because he wouldn't want the villains to get the idea that you two were close. But he noticed the way every single guy just drools over you. He noticed everything.

He wouldn't think of himself as a jealous type of person but that's because he didn't have a reason to be jealous before. He surely does now.

He absolutely hates the way people just won't stop staring,never getting their eyes off you. He gets so angry but you won't really be able to tell because he's actually pretty good at hiding it(sometimes)

He doesn't like how guys look at you so lustfully,when they look at you like you're an object just for their pleasure. It was making him see red.

When he gets home from patrol one day,he slips his hero costume off, putting on a more comfortable fit. He makes his way up into your bedroom, checking to see if you're there. And you,bless your heart,were snuggled up with your blanket. His poor baby was cold.

As he saw you,his face immediately just softened up. He had to admire you for a bit. God you looked so beautiful and gorgeous. And man he just loved how hot you were. He always feels so guitly when he thinks about lustful things with you because he doesn't want to be like those guys who always flirt with you. He doesn't want you to think that he sees you as an object, because he doesn't. He just can't help himself.He gives you a warm smile.

"Hi honey. What is my pretty girl up to? You look cozy in there"

He said with a chuckle at the end. He always talks so sweetly with you,how can you not fall in love with this man? You return him a smile.

"hi baby,I didn't even hear you. when did you get home?"

"just a few minutes ago,honey. How are you doing, pretty girl?"

He seemed a bit off today. He was just as sweet as he always is with you,but for whatever reason you could tell something was up with him.

"I'm good,thank you. Just a little cold. Is something the batter,baby? You seem like you're bothered by something,what happened?"

Izuku sighs as she lowers his head a bit, looking down at the floor. You knew him so well,of course you do, you're a smart girl. Nothing goes unnoticed by you. He stands where he is,at the entrance of your bedroom and shakes his head

"it's nothing serious darling,just thinking about stuff"

You were about to say something back to him but before you get the chance to,you see him making his way to the bed. He gently slides in next to you and snuggles up to your neck.

You giggle. "What's up with you today?"

He let out a groan, keeping his face buried at the crock of your neck,his breath tickling you a bit.

"too many guys started hitting on you recently..ion' like it at all,it's pissing me off"

He mumbled to you. His voice was so low but still gentle. His hand makes it's way to your hip, his grip on it firm.

"ah baby yeahhh I know,it's so annoying but I promise I always try my best to ignore them"

He hums as he gently starts placing small,wet kisses to your neck. His breath was ticking you again, making you giggle a little bit.

As he hears your giggle,he lets out another small groan,the vibration of it feeling nice on your neck. He keeps planting kisses here and there as his hand moves to your thigh.

"those guys are assholes.."

He mumbled in between the kisses as you just nod, agreeing with him. His hand started caressing your thigh, moving up a bit higher. He then places one last kiss on your neck and lifts his head up to look at you

He smiles warmly and then leans in to just plant a small smooch on your lips

"they'll never get to have you, pretty girl. You're mine and I'm all yours. I wish I could show them what imma do to you tonight, sweetheart. They'd be so jealous"

His hand moves even higher, teasing you a little,right around your core. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you didn't expect him to be so direct. You don't mind it,of course you don't,you love this actually. It's just that he's acting different today. You do have to admit.. he is very attractive when he's jealous. He tried to not show his jealousy as often or to sometimes hide it but when it's visible it's just so hot. You can't help yourself

"Mm..izuku"

He groans as his hand makes its way inside your PJ pants. His fingers started rubbing your core though your panties all while he grinds his hips against your thigh. He just couldn't help himself

"is this okay,honey? Can I keep going?You just gotta say the word and you know I'll stop.."

"yes izuku,it's okay.. please just don't stop"

He hums as he nods. His fingers then move your panties to the side a bit. You were wearing the ones he got you for your birthday. What a sweetheart you are.

As izuku does that you try to also slide off your pants too, making it easier for him

His fingers gently rub your pussy, finally entering you. He was experienced with the human body so he always finds your sweet spot very quickly and today was no different. His fingers side in deeper, pressing up against your spot, making you let out a gasp

"god you feel and sound so good,honey..I'm just so fuckin pent up because those guys got me mad,I need to remind you that you're mine, pretty girl"

He didn't waste any time nor did he give you time to reply to him. He sat up, quickly removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

"I need to have you.. please"

He said with a pleading tone, looking up at you with gentle eyes. You just gave him a slight nod as it was hard to talk at this moment for you. Everything felt a bit overwhelming but not in a bad way,you knew izuku would stop if you wanted to.

He removes his pants and then quickly takes off his boxers too. Poor boy,he just couldn't hold back anymore but can you blame him? You looked so sweet and delicious.

He gently takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few strokes. He was already so hard for you he really couldn't hold back anymore. He gently places his other hand on your chest, slightly pushing you down on your back.

"I need to be inside you,honey"

"please izuku,just do it already" You whine to him

He groans as he strokes himself a few more times and then he aligns his cock with your core, sliding inside so easily. It slid in so fast,you were so wet for him,He giggled a bit. His breath becomes a bit more uneven as it was hard for him to stop himself,He just needed you so bad and you were right here, giving him what he wanted and needed so bad.

He grabs onto your hips, holding you with a firm but gentle grip as he starts thrusting. His hips move at a quick pace, whining and groaning while doing so.

"fuck,I needed this so badly..I need you so badly"

He whispered to you as his hips seemed to just move on their own. After just a few more minutes of him thrusting,he managed to hit that spot you just love so much. As it was mentioned before,he's very skilled in human anatomy and he knows what and where it feels good for you, that's why it didn't take a lot for him to find your sweet spot.

You gasp and let out a loud moan and he grinned at your reaction. He was a slut for giving pleasure to others. His hips pick up the peace, thrusting inside you quickly.

"ngh..spread those legs for me,baby..I need to make you feel good"

Izuku said as his two fingers make their way between your legs, quickly finding your clit. His fingers move at a somewhat fast peace as he grins down at you, his hips never stopping as he kept pounding into you

"mmh..I'm close, honey. Should I pull out?"

He asked with a somewhat concerned tone. He wanted to cum inside so bad ,he really did but he knew it wasn't right unless you gave him permission to do it. He looks at you with a pleading expression

You just let out a softer groan,your head leaning back onto the pillow

"fuck.. please don't pull out, please izuku,I need it inside" you beg him

Poor izuku didn't waste any time as his thrusts became more uneven, trying to pick up his speed. He was so desperate to cum inside,he always had to fantasize about that he's just so lewd but it's not his fault. Of course it isn't,you're just fuckin hot,that's on you.

His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, trying to pick up the speed a bit,and god it felt so good,your fingers will never compare to his as they were doing the job better than yours.

He groans and grunts as he keeps pounding into you and after a few more thrusts it finally hits him. His mouth opens up to let out an almost feminine whine, resting his head on your chest while he cums. He couldn't stop himself,this man always cums so hard and you knew it but you loved that about him. It was so hot to you

Your hand rests on his head, stroking and playing with his hair a bit as you were waiting for him to calm down. It takes him a while but his hips still twitch on their own as he was still inside you

He came so much,as expected, and it felt so good he didn't even want to pull out. You were just so warm like this

"you did so well,izuku"

You whisper to him. Your voice seemed a bit sore and tired because this was pretty Intense. It may not seem like that but he surely can get you tired so quickly when pounding into you

Izuku didn't reply,he was almost asleep. This man ended up not pulling out,his head was still resting on your chest,it was his favorite place to sleep cause you were just so soft.

He is so tired after that,he just gets exhausted so easily,he has no stamina,poor boy:(

Sorry chat this was a bit rushed:( Merry Christmas to everyone tho<3

[vampireimiko]

hot chocolate - mini fic

note, couldn't rlly think of who i wanted this to be about so i came up with multiple people, can also be applied to whoever you think of if they fit the shoe ^_^

Finally, it was your favorite time of the year, Christmas. While the weather and temperature may not be ideal, it was nothing that snuggling with hot chocolate by the fire couldn't fix. Not to mention you also had your boyfriend with you.

It was the first Christmas you two spent together in a while due to his missions. You loved how the festive season seemed to bring out a softer side of him. Normally so focused and serious, he was finally able to relax, his sharp edges mellowing into something warmer. Watching him fumble with the lights earlier in the day—grumbling under his breath about how they were always tangled no matter how carefully they were stored—had been a highlight of your holiday so far.

As the two of you sat on the couch, with the fire crackling softly, you two felt relaxed. He was stretched out beside you, an arm lazily draped over your shoulders as the glow of the Christmas tree illuminated the room in soft, colorful light.

“You really went all out with the decorations this year,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with admiration.

You grinned, turning to face him. "It just felt right, especially with you being here finally. The Christmas spirit always feels better with someone else doesn't it?"

He chuckled, the sound deep and comforting, and tightened his arm around you. “I think you’ve outdone yourself. This feels... perfect.”

He cherished moments like this with you. Being able to hold you in his arms gave him a comfort like no other. His job was grueling, missions so dangerous there were times he thought he'd never see you again. But he prevailed through each mission just for you. You were enough to keep him grounded and not be as careless and impulsive.

You looked up at him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. It was a rare sight to see him so introspective, and you couldn't help but wonder what was on his mind. Gently, you reached up and caressed his cheek, pulling him back into the present.

"Hey," You said softly. "What's on your mind babe?"

He leaned into your touch, his expression softening as his gaze met yours. “Nothing bad,” he assured you, his voice a quiet rumble. “Just... thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you. I’ve missed this more than I can put into words.”

“You’re here now,” you whispered, brushing your thumb against his cheek and going in for a kiss. “And that’s all that matters.”

After that the moment was quiet, save for the crackling fire and the faint hum of a Christmas tune playing on the radio.

Breaking the silence, you smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, I think I’m the lucky one. Watching you wrestle with those Christmas lights was the best entertainment I’ve had all year.”

He groaned, his head falling back against the couch dramatically. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” you teased, poking his side playfully.

He chuckled, catching your hand in his before pulling it to his lips. The playful moment gave way to something more tender as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll take the teasing, as long as it means I get to be here with you.”

"God your so cheesy." You giggled jokingly, trying to hide the fact that he was making you flustered.

"Oh please you love it." He said playfully shooing you away.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against him with a soft laugh. “Maybe I do. But don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Mission Impossible.”

He laughed at the nickname, his chest rumbling against your back as he tightened his arm around you. “Too late. You’ve already inflated my ego.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as the fire crackled softly in the background.

"By the way, are you gonna finish your hot chocolate?" He interrupted.

rick grimes (? in a modern world maybe), dick grayson, jason todd, leon kennedy, chris redfield, carlos oliveira, childe, miguel o'hara, sasuke + whoever else fits this

additional note ! i've been feeling absolutely terrible this holiday season but i felt enough joy to write this 🕵🏾‍♀️ so merry christmas!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Favorite Gifts

Summary: You and Dean know exactly what you want for Christmas...just each other.

Pairing: Dean x Reader (You)

Warnings: None. Kissing. Fluff. Pretty much all fluff. (Very brief mentions of child abduction. This fic is all fluff, rest assured, but I don't want to take any chances on a possible trigger.)

Word Count: 657

A/N: All I want for Christmas is Dean, and I know I'm not alone. So, I'm offering this up as a little Christmas present. Enjoy!! Merry Christmas!!

P.S. I wrote this quickly around all the Christmas Eve busy-ness, so please excuse any mistakes! ❤️

Dean Master List || Christmas Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

You'd gone to sleep that Christmas Eve, alone in Dean's bed. It felt enormous and empty, but at least it smelled like him.

He'd called earlier in the day to tell you that he and Sam were no closer to tracking down the weird, unknown monster, that was snatching up children and leaving their parents terrified and distraught.

It wasn't a case they could postpone or walk away from without winning. It broke your heart that you'd be celebrating Christmas alone in the big drafty bunker. But you forced yourself to think of the poor parents whose little ones weren't going to be home on Christmas morning, and you knew your heartbreak paled in comparison.

So, you'd simply resigned yourself to the situation and closed your eyes not long after midnight, and proceeded to toss and turn for a couple of hours before finally falling asleep.

You'd only been sleeping for a few hours when Dean slid himself in behind you on the bed. At first you simply incorporated him into your dreams, easy to do since he lived there every night when he was away anyway.

You sighed softly as his hard, warm body fitted itself around you, enveloping you within his strong arms. But slowly, small things began to pierce through the veil of your sleep. You inhaled the scent of him - gunpowder and mint - that your sleeping brain could never quite get right.

When he nuzzled his lips along your neck, the shiver that coursed through you was so much more vivid than your imagination could ever conjure, that it woke you up completely.

Your eyes popped open and you wrenched yourself up and away from him so that you could turn around to see him for real. When his cheeky, lopsided grin spread across his face you gasped.

“Heya sweetheart.” He said warmly, making you screech like a banshee and launch yourself into his arms.

You wanted to ask him how he'd managed to get back in time for Christmas morning, but you couldn't manage it; you were too busy smothering his face in kisses.

He was laughing under your onslaught, but eventually he rolled on top of you, grasping your cheeks in his big hands and holding you still so he could kiss you properly.

His lips moved on yours skillfully, teasing your mouth open and then sweeping his tongue inside, inhaling you and swallowing down your little mewls of satisfaction.

When he pulled away you were crying; you'd been sick with missing him, and now that he was here, you could hardly believe your senses.

Dean understood your happy tears, he saw them often. So he just thumbed them away as you took a shuddering breath.

“How did you get here?” A sudden thought hit you and your stomach lurched. “The kids…”

Dean shook his head and smiled at you. “No, they're fine. All of them. Home with their moms and dads, getting ready to open their presents. Monster's gone.”

He clicked his tongue as he made a slashing gesture across his throat with his thumb.

“So, I put the pedal to the medal and me and Sammy got home just a few minutes ago.” He sniffed at himself. “Sorry, probably shoulda showered.” He joked

But you shook your head and pulled him down to kiss him again. “No.” You mumbled against his lips. “I like you just like this. Fresh from the fight and tangled up in me.”

He hitched your leg up to his hip so he could press tightly into the warm apex of your thighs.

He moaned softly. “I like you just like this too. Soft, smelling like sleep, and all wrapped around me.”

He kissed you a little longer and then settled you against his chest.

“God, I missed you sweetheart. Just so you know, whatever's under the tree, you're always gonna be my favorite gift.”

The happy tears were back as you nuzzled into his neck and whispered back. “And you're mine. Easily. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Tags Under the Cut:

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

@aylacavebear @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @livya99 @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[loadinghellsing]

Collection of Alucard and Anderson being the SAME PERSON (Manga - Part 1)

Starting with- the first thing Anderson says to Alucard that is not a bible verse.

This Synchronization.

PLAY DEAD!!!

The Hope -> Pity -> Shock -> Excited response

The ENTIRE muesume scene.

Something Interesting!!!

CLEAN YOUR ROOM!!!

Not quiet a parallel, but that moment where Alucard's angry with humanity and his own monstrosity. Thus spends the rest of the fight actively treating himself as the devil and humans as dogs. He's being all the crueler for it.

While Integra's got the commanding air of power, and Walter and Maxwell grin at the show. Anderson's got his grit teeth 'sss' (shown a bit better in the anime). Just a shout out to the fact Anderson recognizes what Alucard's doing as something wrong (which is how Alucard feels about it aswell).

THE ENTIRE HOTEL SCENE!!!

And because I'm running out of image space... Hoping forward a bit to another SHARED LONG DISTANCE BRAIN CELL MOMENT!!!

The fact Anderson goes "!!" with Seras once Alucard enters.

Seras is Alucard's fledgling so it makes sense. But Anderson? Him and Alucard are just synced like that. Bluetooth pairing be like-

[secondpersonpoetry]

"Indeterminacy", J. Mae Barzio

[fallenneziah]

Virgin!Reader who is shy and closed off about the idea of their first time. Who is hesitant when first getting with Ghost.

Virgin!Reader who gets in bed with their collosal boyfriend and is immediately a blushing mess when he touches them.

Virgin!Reader who has almost zero stamina and can cum on Ghost's fingers easily as he pumps his thick, calloused fingers deep inside. Purring sweet pet names in their ear and making them feel so good. Whimpering from the sensitivity.

Virgin!Reader who drools over Ghost's cock despite it's large size. Whimpering and asking if it'll hurt and if it'll fit as he lubes his cock.

"Only a little bit sweetheart. It'll feel really good after, I promise." He whispers against your ear, feeling so fucking hard from the idea of corruption you into his sweet little whore.

Virgin!Reader who clenches on Ghost's cock, mewling and letting out the sluttiest, unfiltered noises as Ghost starts to move, loving the feeling of just his cock sliding slowly in and out of you.

Ghost who is slow and gentle with you at first, peppering you in kisses and making you feel loved and adored, but the lewd sounds of your hole absolutely begging for more of him makes him feral.

Getting rough with you, fucking you hard, rubbing and stroking you, making you feel so fucking good. Hand clasped in your hair, calling you his sweet girl/boy. "There it is, fuck, you're so tight around me angel," he will curse, teeth grit against your shoulder or watching your back arch.

Virgin!Reader who absolutely eats it up. Cumming on his cock until their hips jolt and they have salty sweet tears rolling down their cheeks. Puffy lips and sore vocal chords from everything he's done to you.

Ghost who can feel the damp sheets under him from you absolutely leaking from the way he's treating you.

How you try to dirty talk back but your words are slurred and you can't make out a thought with his thick cock stretching you out ruthlessly.

Virgin!Reader whose told not to cum but can't stop from jerking, hips uneasy and organ abused and oversensitive from the amount of orgasms.

Virgin!Reader who passes out when Ghost gets really going, the pleasure too much for them before they find themselves back awake and being pumped full of seed.

Ghost who couldn't help himself, filling his baby to the brim with his nut, tainting your insides as his and only his. Claiming you, ruining you into his perfect partner.

Ghost who gives you the sweetest aftercare. Full of kisses, soft words of praise, caressing and holding you. Chances are he'll keep his cock buried in your warmth for a while longer, or maybe he'll pull out and watch his cum drip from your writhing entrance. If he does he'll be instantly hard and ready for more.

Seeing your fucked out look and how much rest you need just from one round of him playing rough up with your body.

Knowing that he's left you unable to ever seek pleasure from another man because your first experience was with him and he has never left anyone unsatisfied.

Knowing he's tainted you into someone who now thinks of his cock two times a day and whimpers when he has to leave for long times at work, knowing you'll miss his cock.

And that's how he likes it. Knowing you'll be missing him, wanting him and no one else. He's made you hungry, he's corrupted you and he couldn't be more proud.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunnyy, can I please have a blueberry muffin with a hard lemonade for Lando?💕

the bakery menu

want to submit your own order? the follow to the main post above! i am still accepting orders! these paws are rolling out the dough as we speak! as for this one,

blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served by lando norris (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, big cock!lando, possessive behavior, missionary, sweet sex, mechanic!reader

"i don't think it'll fit, lando." you swallowed.

"shh, shh, shh." he said as he rubbed his cock up against your achy slit, "it'll fit. the more you tense up, the less it'll fit. so, relax." then flashed you a smile.

you swallowed, "please don't bruise me, norris."

he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek ever so gently, "i would never. the last thing i want is for my mechanic to not do her job."

this all started because you took a job with mercedes, leaving poor lando all by himself at mclaren (he really wasn't alone). you were his favourite mechanic, you made his car purr like a kitten and hug the curves of the track just right.

so it broke his heart that you just upped and left him. how could you!

after you left, lando made is known that you were still his mechanic. he added the possessive pronoun to your job title, even though on your resume it said that your employment with mclaren ended two months ago.

it was an event for staff that some of the drivers attended, lando included. it was for the smaller awards throughout the season for things like mechanics and other support staff. it was an excuse to let loose before the second leg of the season.

a driver was only as strong as his support team, so many of the drivers came to support their teams! but lando was glaring daggers into the back of toto wolff's head for stealing away his mechanic.

how dare he! lando had barely seen you since your departure from the team two months ago. you had been so busy getting into the groove of mercedes that it felt like you totally forgot about him and your time on his team!

after the dinner, it came time for the actual partying. while that means most got into the harder alcohol, it gave lando the chance to get closer to you.

he seated himself beside you at the table and when you looked over, he slung his arm across the back of your chair. he smiled at you, "there is my favourite mechanic."

you lit up at the sight of lando and pulled him into a tight hug. he swore you made a gleeful noise at the sight of him, which only stroked his ego.

maybe he was a little too hard on you. maybe you did miss him quite a bit. when you pulled away, you held him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"oh my god, lando!" you said, your smile big as you let go of him, "i've been seeing your messages, but i've just been so busy lately! i'm so, so, so sorry!"

aw, he really couldn't be that mad at you. you were just so painfully cute that it was like being mad at a puppy for chewing up some socks.

lando smiled back at you and wiped some of the dinner you had off your cheek, "still a messy eater as always, huh?"

you blushed a little, "oh shut up, lans." you laughed and playfully pushed his chest which caused him to grab your hands and keep them on him. you said, "i have missed you though!"

then why did you leave me, he thought.

he offered to get you another glass of wine so the two of you would keep talking. he wanted to hear all about mercedes. in reality he wanted to see where mercedes was failing in comparison to mclaren that he could convince you to come back.

your voice was music to his ears as you rambled about the other team. you hardly noticed lando's hand on your thigh until he gave it a hearty squeeze. your eyes went wide, "lans!"

he chuckled and leaned in closer to you, "i missed you. i really missed you. team's not the same without you." i'm not the same without you.

"oh! don't be silly! the new mechanic that you guys got is like a million times better than me! don't make me blush!"

all he wanted to do was make you blush. he wanted to see if it went all way down. then again he wondered how hot he'd be in the face when he was between your legs.

but he made that a reality a lot sooner than he expected.

apparently you really missed him. and you felt that you missed out on your chance to be with him. but you also were plagued with self-doubt that he'd even be into you. but lando covered up that anxiety with a hot kiss at the table before you were leading him by the hand to your hotel room with key card in your other hand.

your hotel was quaint, cute in a way as he started to get you undressed. his lips would find safety on your hated skin, his cock was heavy in his pants before he took them off.

you got up onto the bed and pulled him for some soft kisses. he melted against you, loving the feeling of you. he can't believe you missed him. it made something strange curl in his gut as he got between your legs.

"how much did you miss me?" he asked as he rubbed his hard cock against your slick pussy, "did you think about me all the time?"

you nodded, "i did lando, all the time. i felt so bad when i couldn't reply. i was worried you'd hate me." you gave a small pout.

he felt a shiver run through him, "oh, no, no, no. i could never hate you. you're my favourite!!" you blushed and covered your face. but lando took your hands away and leaned in for another kiss as he dribbling pre-cum against your pussy lips, "it's true." he said.

"lans."

he chuckled as he threatened to push his cock into you. he could feel the heat rise in his body. his heart was racing it did during a race.

"what if it doesn't fit." you said once more.

"trust me, alright? just the way i trusted you on the grid. right?" he said, almost begged. he needed this, he needed you.

you nodded, "of course." you braced for impact, but tried to keep yourself relax as he slid his cock into you. the stretch felt intense for a moment before it started to feel good.

"i'd never hurt you." he said as he planted both hands on either side of you and rutted against you. you wrapped those strong legs around him. his words were a promise as he moved against you.

"i'm sorry i didn't try to do anything sooner."

"aw, don't be. you just didn't want to ruin our jobs. i understand. i guess now that you're working for the other team, now we can do this as much as we want." he laughed.

the sex between you was almost sweet. lando peppered your face with kisses as he rocked against you. you felt so good around his cock, like two puzzle pieces.

"you feel so good."

"thank you, lans."

"i missed you every day on the grid. i got a little jealous when i'd see you working on the cars. you always looked better in orange." he admitted.

"i always thought i looked like a cheez-it."

lando kissed your lips and held onto the covers under you. his lips trailed across your skin before he said, "no, no. you looked amazing in it."

you held onto his shoulder tightly as you moved against him. it wasn't rough sex, but it wasn't too gentle either. regardless it really felt nice. it was a steady pace that allowed pleasure through your body.

the kisses your shared were wet and sweet. you could feel lando's praise of you through his lips. you held onto him. part of you wished you had done this sooner.

lando on the other hand wanted his mechanic back, he wanted you in the orange coveralls and always excited to see the cars. he just thought that you were painfully cute in the garage.

you once told him that working on a car of that caliber was a like working on a high tech puzzle, and it made the job exciting. to see your hard work (and the hard work of your former co-workers) on the track was amazing!

and lando wanted to make you proud on the track! put that hard work into action. you two worked hand in hand, and now you were tumbling in the sheets together.

you felt near to your climax and held onto him tightly. you kissed at the apples of his cheeks and moved against him, "you're amazing, lans."

he held tightly onto the covers, or else he was going to dig his hands into his hips. he picked up the pace a little bit more and captured your lips in another kiss.

you cupped his face and let him rut against you. you clenched around him and moaned into the kiss as you climaxed. you held onto the driver as he continued to thrust against you.

"shit." you moaned as you relaxed on the bed and clutched onto the white hotel sheets. you looked up at lando and smiled.

that only egged him to keep going. and the sight of your sweet face allowed him to finish inside of you. with a few heavy thrusts and he finished in a huff.

it led to more kissing, his arms wrapped around you. he whispered praises you could barely hear against your skin as you both soaked in the feeling of post-orgasmic bliss.

"you're perfect." he exhaled.

"i missed you, lans."

you get comfortable under the covers of the bed and could feel lando moving around to get comfortable as well. he laid next to you and felt comfort in your warmth.

as he laid with you, tangled up in the hotel room sheets. his nose in your hair with your head on his chest. maybe he'd find a way to get his little mechanic back, make sure she's really appreciated this time. <3

[milkteamoon]

The first and only girl Martin goes out with is openly bisexual.

He doesn't know if she counts, if he's being honest — it wasn't a crush, he knows that, and years down the line, when he thinks back to it, he can't remember them ever having a proper conversation about the whole status of their single-night relationship. He knows she had short hair, and sat in front of him in math class, and needed a date to the fall semi-formal so she'd asked if he was busy that weekend, and he'd said no, and then she'd asked if she could borrow a pen, and he'd said yes. He couldn't remember her name if he tried.

He does remember the pink and blue bracelet on her wrist that she'd worn to the event itself, and then to get ice cream after, where he'd sat on the curb of some old parking lot at the edge of town with her and her friends and her friends' boyfriends and her friends' boyfriends' friends, none of which were his friends, because Martin didn't have many of those. Except maybe the girl whose name he couldn't remember. Though he's not sure if maybe-probably-not-girlfriends count as friends too when you're in high school.

"D'you like it?" she'd asked once she'd noticed him staring, holding up her wrist and not seeming to care as ice cream dribbled down her spoon and fingers.

"It's nice," Martin had said, because he's nothing if not honest. "Did you make it?"

She'd nodded. "It's a bi flag," she'd explained. "I'm bisexual."

"Oh," Martin had said.

"You know what that is, right?" she had asked. "Like, when you like boys and girls?"

"I know," Martin had said, even if it had maybe slipped his memory until she'd brought it up. "That's cool."

And then she'd nodded, and ate her ice cream, and Martin had taken her home with as little a fanfare as he had picked her up earlier that evening. And then winter break had rolled around, and she'd been put in another class the following semester, and then life and bills had finally caught up with him and there wouldn't be another semester after that. He'd never seen her again, so he'd never got a chance to ask. Never got a chance to choke down that knot in his throat when he'd left her house that evening, unable to get the words out.

He doesn't remember her name anymore, but he does remember the jealous ache he'd felt at her certainty.

Martin's first boyfriend is definitely gay.

That's how they meet each other, really — in a gay bar, where Martin has met plenty of other men (testing the waters, he's been telling himself; no harm in a little exploration) and gone home with them, except this one asks for his number afterward, and this one calls him back, and this one actually seems to want to go out for drinks the next week, and the week after that, and before Martin knows it he's quite certain that he's dating this man. It's wonderful, whirlwind of an experience. It's exhilarating.

It's bloody terrifying.

And it's not being with a man that sets his anxiety on edge. Martin...Martin likes men. That's definitely a part of his identity that he's been able to sort out, over the years. Martin likes men, and he likes dating men, and he likes having sex with men, and he'd probably even marry a man, if he had the chance, if that's where one of these loose and languid relationships end up.

It's just—

It's just that—

It's just that Martin always seems to be the odd one out in these groups. It's just that when Martin meets up with his boyfriend's friends at the bar, when they're all laughing and sharing jokes and clinking their drinks together in some toast that Martin had missed the dedication to, they all just...get it somehow. They know who they are. They all have some special word for themselves that fits them like a tailored suit: Jacklyn is a butch lesbian, and Lee is trans, and Tom is a bear, and Jordan is gay and genderqueer and Collin is a drag performer and—

He's a few drinks in, to put it lightly, when he leans over to his definitely-boyfriend and asks him how he knew he was gay.

"How did I know?" he echoes, taking a sip from his fizzy drink. "Easy, I liked men." And then he laughs like Martin has just told a funny joke, and maybe he has and doesn't realize it, so he tries to laugh along. Tries to ignore the ache in his chest.

Martin wishes it were that simple. And when the two of them break up, Martin wishes that he ached just as badly over the relationship too.

Tim and Sasha are bi. Well, no, Tim is bi, and Sasha is—

"Pansexual," Sasha says through a mouthful of reheated spaghetti. She holds a finger up as she chews, swallows, and then adds, "Well, I mean. It's like the same genus, I guess."

"Like a leopard and a cheetah," Tim chimes in, leaning over to put an arm around her shoulders. She puts a hand against the side of his face to put some space between them, knocking his glasses askew.

"Leopards and cheetahs are different genuses," she tells him. "You're thinking of leopards and jaguars."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

"Nuh uh nuh uh—"

"Uh huh uh huh uh huh—"

And it's—

He likes Tim and Sasha. They're easy to exist around. They don't make him feel like he's not welcome at the end of the lunch table, or like he has to be anything more than simply himself in their presence. Call it bonding over the shared trauma of all being trapped down here together. Tim's jokes about Jon never letting them see the sun are starting to feel less like jokes these days, and more like statements of fact.

Then Tim leans over, seating his chin in his knuckles, and says, "So, Martin, you going to pride this year?"

And then all of those nice, floaty feelings suddenly come crashing out of solution and dropping down into the pit of his stomach. It must show on his face, because Tim's smile falls as he backpedals.

"O-or not!" he says, holding his hands up peaceably. "I mean— geez, sorry, I usually think I'm pretty good at noticing these things, but if you're not—"

"What? Oh, no no, you're fine, I'm definitely—" There's something on the tip of Martin's tongue that he can't put a word to, hasn't been able to put a word to for a long time. "...not straight. Er, I— I like...guys, at least...?"

A smile curls across Tim's face — amused, but not cruel. "Hey, that's at least one thing we've got in common," he says and holds up his fist for a bump. The spark of anxiety hasn't quite fizzled away, but it's pushed far enough down that Martin feels he can humor him.

To his equal relief and horror, Jon strolls into the room not a minute later and sticks himself firmly in the crosshairs of Tim's sights.

"Boss-man," he greets.

"Tim," Jon greets back, neutrally. He strolls over to the kitchenette, digging out a tea bag out of the cabinet.

"Are you going to pride this year?"

Martin chokes on his drink.

"No," Jon says, retrieving a tea bag and filling his mug as if Tim had simply asked him about the weather.

"C'mon," Tim purrs. He reaches over and gives Jon a tug by his belt loops. "You're just gonna sit at home all weekend and leave us to have all the fun?"

"I don't particularly find crowds 'fun,'" Jon retorts, batting away his hand. He picks up his mug. "You'll have to suffer without me."

"How will we ever go on," Tim laments.

"You'll manage," Jon says, then promptly retreats to his office.

Martin simply sits there with his mouth hanging open, only daring to speak once he hears the final click of the door pulled shut. "...Jon...?"

Tim looks over to him, eyebrow quirked. "What?"

"Jon."

"Oh." A smirk tugs at the corner of Tim's lips. "You didn't know?"

"Wh— no!" It's not even that Martin has ever really assumed that Jon is straight. It's just that, out of people in the office to be open about their sexualities, there's Tim and Sasha, and then there's Jon. It's just— it's Jon. "Did he tell you that?"

Tim shoots a look to Sasha. "Well, no," he admits, "but you know how it is, you work with someone long enough and you just sort of...get a vibe, yeah?"

Sasha nods at this assessment. "Plus the fact that he did agree to go on a date with David that one time."

"Oh god, haha! I forgot about that."

"He's gay, right?" Sasha says, looking to Tim.

"I'm pretty sure he mentioned an ex-girlfriend once," Tim notes, poking his fork into his salad. "Bi, maybe...? I'm going to go with bi."

"Could also be pan," Sasha notes.

Tim thinks on this for a moment. "Mm, no, definitely bi I think. My bi-dey senses are tingling. Sorry Sash," he concludes, earning him a light kick to the shin from Sasha at the pun. He shoves a forkful of salad in his mouth before redirecting his attention back to Martin. "So, Martin. Pride, yay or nay?"

"Uh—" Martin blinks, viscerally aware of himself once more. He's not sure how to put I've never really thought about going into so many words that doesn't make him sound incredibly lame or formerly catholic, so in the end he decides on a redirect. He clears his throat. "I'm...not sure? Haven't really decided."

"That's fine," Tim says with a half shrug. "Though we'll be there, so if you do end up going, just text us and we'll meet up, yeah?"

There's a little plant inside Martin, something green and budding, but never able to bloom — always pruned too early, or watered too late, or bitten off by the frost. But some days, he thinks about opening the curtains and letting in the sun. Some days, he thinks about letting it bloom, finally, fully—

"Yeah," Martin says softly, looking up from his open palms. "Yeah, that'd...that'd be good."

And despite himself, he smiles.

Martin is—

Martin is quite certain he has never been sweatier in his life.

It's a wonderful time. It's bright. It's beautiful. He's seen so many colors and grins and glitter on more people than he can count today. People holding hands and people kissing and people dressed in outfits he can't even begin to describe, genders he can't even begin to put names to, flags he can't even begin to guess the meaning of. His heart feels so big in his chest he could die, pushing on the bars of his rib cage with each resounding thu-thump, and it's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful—

(And so very isolating. So very lonely when he feels like he's not meant to be there, like he wasn't invited, like he's invading this space carved out in neat rows of labels that he can't even straddle properly to get in line. He doesn't— he can't—)

Martin finds a moment of shade just as he feels he's teetering on the edge of heat exhaustion. He stumbles under the awning, smearing the sweat and residual glitter out of his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall. Music hums from the street over, voices carry on the warm summer air. He really needs to find something to drink, so he can appreciate it more instead of focusing on the way his shirt clings to his skin. He really should find Tim and Sasha, before they get off into any trouble.

Someone lets out a huff next to him as they lean back against the wall, and Martin peels open an eye to look.

And then both his eyes snap open at once, double taking at the man standing next to him. He doesn't seem to notice him at first, too focused on fanning himself with some pamplet he'd snagged along the way, but then his gaze shifts sideways, and the pinched expression smooths out into one of blank bewilderment.

Jon blinks, wide eyed. "Martin."

Okay, well that at least solves the issue of whether or not Martin is supposed to be pretending not to know him or not. He clears his throat, trying to smile. "Jon...h-hi."

It's not even the fact that— okay, well, yes, seeing Jon at a queer event is pretty weird, but seeing Jon outside of work, in jeans no less, is certainly not helping the sensation that Martin might very well be hallucinating this interaction. He looks him up to his thick-lensed glasses, down to his plain sneakers that have seen better days, and even pinches himself for good measure. Jon doesn't move. Martin isn't sure that he himself would be able to move either, even if he wanted to.

Then Jon's brow furrows, and he looks around. "Are Tim and Sasha around...?"

"Oh, n-no, they went off," Martin gestures vaguely in the direction he'd last seen them, "somewhere."

"Ah."

"Mm."

"Right."

"...What...are you doing here, exactly?" Martin finally asks in some burst of unsourced courage.

Jon's winces, red-handed. Not that Martin would ever say anything to Tim or Sasha about their boss going to pride without them on his own time — it's honestly none of his business — but he also knows that if the two of them suspect something is up, they'll never let either of them live it down.

Jon sighs, shoulders drooping. "I...an old friend, she— she didn't wish to come alone this year, and apparently I'm the only other queer she knows that doesn't enjoy getting plastered off my arse at these types of events, so—" Jon shrugs lightly.

There's something about the way Jon says it, the only other queer, that leaves a funny, prickling sensation in the center of Martin's chest, and it's not just the heat giving him a rash. It's just...it's nice. It's nice the way he says it, all casual like he's just giving Martin another report to follow up.

Jon pushes the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, giving Martin a sideways glance up and down. He redirects, "You know, I would have thought you'd be more, er..."

"More...?"

"...Well, dressed up, I suppose?" He gestures to Martin's outfit — a pair of khaki shorts with pockets stuffed to the brim in emergency snacks, a green t-shirt with the local football team logo, an old pair of sneakers he really needs to replace — in a vague enough gesture to slip just under the line of insulting, but still enough to make Martin feel horribly seen. Granted, Jon isn't much better in his plain blue polo, but the fact of Jon being in jeans at all is currently eclipsing the fact that he's a tad underdressed for the event.

But—

But it's not that Martin doesn't want to. It's not that Martin doesn't want to be a part of this moment, this moment, this microcosm in the middle of London of so many people like him. It's something he's always wanted. Something he's always dreamed of, something he'd thought about all the way back in his high school bedroom when he'd had all these feelings knotted up in his chest that he couldn't put a word to, still can't put a word to, doesn't know how to put a word to even though it's right there in front of him if he could just stretch out his fingers—

"I thought about it," he admits with a shrug. Tim and Sasha were each dressed in a blinding shower of color and glitter, and he knows they'd never make him feel out of place. "It's just...there's too many—" He stops, takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "There's too many words, I guess?"

Jon pauses his lazy fanning, looking up at him. "Too many words?" he parrots.

Martin wets his lips. "Like— like— like, everyone has a word for themselves, y'know? They have a flag, they have a group, they have— have people that they can relate to, and then you feel like you find something that almost right, but it's not perfect, and you— you—"

And you don't fit in, Martin doesn't say, because the rushing stream of words has suddenly stopped up in his throat, choking him. And you definitely aren't straight, but you aren't queer like everyone else is. You aren't queer in the right way.

Jon looks at him for a considerable moment, and suddenly Martin is all too aware of his body, his bones, his sweat, the itchy prickling of his skin—

Jon sighs as he gives him a half shrug. "So don't be anything."

The music from the street over lulls into a faint hum.

"What?" Martin says.

"So don't be anything," Jon repeats, enunciating as if he thinks that Martin misheard him. He frowns as he chooses his next words. "I'm not...it's...I..."

Martin waits quietly.

"I..." Jon says, "I guess when I was just starting to— to figure things out, I was certain I was gay. And then I went to uni and I had...a multitude of other things to address, and then for a bit I was...straight? I guess? And that was a whole thing, and then I was bi, and— well, I guess I'm technically still bi, but it's not...not exactly correct—" He frowns, looking up at him. "I guess...it just doesn't really matter to me? You don't...have to be anything."

Martin opens his mouth. He closes it. "But—" he says, tongue feeling thick in his mouth, "but—"

But then I have to be me, he doesn't say, even if the words are trying to push out past his teeth. But then the only thing I can be is me.

"...But that's scary," Martin says without meaning to, only hearing the words as they pass through his own lips. His eyes blow wide as he looks down at Jon (at his boss), and knows the simmering heat flushing down to his chest has nothing to do with the weather.

Jon stares at him for a quiet, considerate. And then he turns his head away and lets out a very undignified snort.

Martin feels his world tip onto its side.

It had to be a snort. It can only be a snort, even if Jon doesn't snort because Jon doesn't laugh, and Jon doesn't laugh because Jon doesn't smile, and Jon doesn't smile because Jon is typically too busy snapping at him over some stupid mistake he's made for the umpteenth time—

Jon looks up at him again, and he's downright grinning. Martin is quite certain he needs to be doused over the head with a bucket of ice water, or pinched hard enough to draw blood, or sent off to the hospital to get his head checked out because what the fuck. What the fuck.

"As my grandmother was so fond of reminding me, 'if it weren't scary, everyone would be doing it,'" Jon says finally, peeling off his glasses to wipe the sweat from the lenses onto his shirt. He places them back on his nose, then pushes himself up. "You should find Tim and Sasha," he says. "And I should find Georgie before I get left here. Again."

"Uh," Martin says, still trying to mentally recover from the fact that Jon smiled at him, and now everything feels like its been knocked into an alternate universe slightly to the left. His head feels weird. His chest feels weird. "Right."

"There's a—" Jon points a thumb behind himself, "a place we can cut through, if you want to—"

"Oh. Oh, yeah! Yeah, lead— lead the way."

It's not perfect, Martin thinks.

It's not perfect, but it's close. It's close when they step out of the alley back onto that crowded street, when the colors all bleed into a mess of a million different rainbows as far as the eye can see. It's close when they both get sprayed with glitter, Jon scowling and swearing as he tries to get it off himself and sending Martin laughing so hard that his sides ache. It's close even with the heat, even with the noise, even with the shouting because there's laughter in between laughter in between laughter again—

"Would you like a button?" a girl with green hair asks as she sits behind a table of every flag Martin has ever seen and then some. He takes a moment to look over each one carefully. Jon wanders up beside him, looks them through, and carefully selects a pink, purple, and blue one, to which he silently deposits in his pocket.

Martin picks up a plain rainbow one, considers it, and then pins it to the left side of his shirt.

It's not perfect, he thinks, but it's close enough.

[r3starttt]

CEO! ABBY

Ceo! Abby who one day saw you in the office and couldn't stop thinking about you, has she met you before? have you maybe worked more than once with her but she's suddenly realizing you're here?

Or Ceo! Abby who saw you in one of the many fancy places she goes and had to ask for your number to keep in contact with such gorgeous woman!!!!!

Ceo! Abby who whatever scenario she knows you from, had a hard time finding the right way and words to approach to you without looking creepy (as in, don't even look at me I bite) or awkward (as in look at me I have money!)

Ceo! Abby who spoils you ridiculously frequent, for whatever reason. You want something? Just ask!

Ceo! Abby who has the softest spot for you. Who calls you any free time she has just to hear your voice or get some comfort. Who messages you when she gets the chance or she's bored in a meeting just to remind you how much she loves you and how she can't wait for the day to end to just see you and talk and cuddle :(

Ceo! Abby who also, sometimes (a lot) calls you or messages you because she's missing you and your body and your voice and can't help but get ridiculously and humiliatingly wet at the pure thought of you l

Ceo! Abby who sends you pics of her fits in the most delicious angles! Her lap, her hands holding her morning coffee, her hands innocently displayed over her lap. Her braid all messy after a looong day, or her hair loosened if you asked her to do so because yes, this is another way of spoiling her girl.

Ceo! Abby who's all mean and tough with everyone, not allowing any mistake, having assistants for everything and always busy. All that except for you, who gets the special treatment. She's never, ever, busy (only if u ask)

Ceo! Abby who takes you everywhere she goes, pays the most expensive hotels, experiences, all for you and for your hard work of keeping her zen and accompanied even when you don't have to.

Ceo! Abby who has the most gorgeous style ever?!!!?! She always looks so good and smells so good. Not only at work but on her daily life, she's always so pretty!!!

Ceo! Abby who makes sure she isn't the only one looking hot and gorgeous and pretty. Who makes sure you wear the most expensive clothes. Who also knows she has to take advantage of it, buying you clothes she wants to see you wearing whether they are your style or no.

Ceo! Abby who loves having the most rough sex on her desk but is sooo polite and nice at home. She simply can't contain herself and who are you to deny anything she asks!

Ceo! Abby who's definitely wearing a strap under her suits.

Ceo! Abby who loves spreading your lipstick all over your face (her own too duh) your gloss too. And who loves helping you choose the color for your next lipstick precisely because of that

Ceo! Abby who makes sure to leave bruises all over your skin if there's the chance. Who loves you leaving bruises on her because who tf is gonna say anything? they're done if they dare yk?

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

--------------------

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[yawnderu]

Thin Walls — Keegan P. Russ x Reader

Dbf!Keegan collab with the amazing @moosch MWAH

Check out her amazing drawing on this<3

There were rare times Keegan felt like he may have chosen the wrong job. Right now? Covered in dirt and grime, seeking shelter in an abandoned building with the rest of the ghosts after a particularly hard mission was one of those moments. What was supposed to be a three hour mission went downhill and turned into four long days of chasing down an enemy for intel.

The first thing he did as soon as the building was cleared was to fish for his phone, reading the thread of messages he had from you; ranging from telling him about your day, to complaining about missing him and how he owes you a shopping spree for going dark. He rolled his eyes, a deep chuckle rumbling out of his chest and escaping his lips. A new text caught his attention, scrolling down to read it.

Brat: [16:38]

I see you online, can we ft? Papa wants to see u :)

He stares at your message for a few seconds, considering his chances. Keegan looks like shit— eye black smudged messily all over his face, uniform dirty and muddy, a streak of dried up blood dripping down his forehead, and icy blue eyes so tired you would think he died and was never informed. He didn't want you or your father; his best friend, to see him at his worst.

Glucose Father: [16:40]

Sorry princess, signs too shitty for that. Send me some pics of that bratty face and maybe I'll take you shopping when I'm back?

He internally cringed at the text, rarely even using his phone unless it was to text your father and you. His fingers tap on the sides of his phone as he waited for a reply, putting the idle chatter of the ghosts in the back of his mind as he went to another room with the excuse of being able to get some sleep once and for all.

For a second, he ignored the phone vibrating in his hand, leaning against the wall and sitting down with a groan, sore muscles finally able to rest, even if only for a few hours.

Brat [16:43]

Sent 6 attachments.

His tired eyes drifted down to his phone, opening the message and being received by the sight of you, a smile adorning your pretty face. His gaze softened and his pants tightened as he noticed you wearing one of his shirts, fitting into it so much better than he could. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, listening to the chatter on the other side of the thin wall before his free hand drifted down to his growing bulge, holding back a groan as he palmed his sensitive cock over his pants.

"Fuck..." He whispered, hesitantly lowering his fly enough to pull his dick out, gloveless hand feeling the length of it before he started stroking slowly, moving his hand up and down while he looked at your pictures. They were completely innocent pictures, really, simply showing your pretty face and bright smile, yet he couldn't help it.

He was trying his best to be quiet despite how good jerking off felt after so much stress. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes screwed shut as his mind came up with the filthiest fucking images, thinking of your lips wrapped around his cock, struggling to take him as he fucked your face. He could just imagine the noises that would come out of you as his thick dick was shoved all the way down your throat, a deep growl coming out of his lips as his rough fingers massaged his tip, spreading the leaking precum and using it as lube to jerk off better.

He swapped to another photo of you smiling brightly at the camera, holding up a piece sign. What a fucking sight for sore eyes. He imagined your pretty face glazed in his thick white cum, tongue tainted by his seed. His hand involuntary moved faster and harder up and down his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke until he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making too much noise, aware enough of the thin walls.

He couldn't wait to go back home to you, making you cuddle up to him and holding you like a lifeline, the plush of your ass pressing up against his cock as you allowed him to grope you, his hands grasping at as much as he could grab while his hard clothed cock rubbed against your ass. You're killing me, brat.

A deep, low moan came out of his lips his cock twitched in his hand, balls tightening up as ropes of thick, white cum shot out, covering his hand. He squeezed his cock a little bit tighter, making sure all his cum was out, taking another look at your pretty face in the selfies before he began cleaning up.

Evidence hidden and with his cock back in his pants he stepped back into the room with the other ghosts, instantly met with the amused faces of Ajax and Kick, clearly holding in their laughter.

"Had some fun, bro?" Ajax asked, not even able to hold in his laugh anymore, Kick following right after.

"Yeah, yeah." Keegan grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down and pulled out his flask.

"Next time I'll do it in the same room as you motherfuckers." Logan's frown deepened.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Press One for Love, Two for Regret

Chapter 2

Summary: Proper confessions should never happen over the phone. Viktor knows that. So how did he get here?

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Mature (mentions of explicit content, explicit in later chapters)

Notes: This was originally supposed to be a real quick one-shot. And yet, here I stand, offering you a three-chapter fic that is probably going to be a little under 10K total. Like a stray cat proudly bringing you a dead squirrel. I'm bozo the fool and I can't stop writing about Viktor.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 3)

In theory, you’re pretty sure being a hitman should be fun.

There should be something thrilling about following someone around, tracking their every move in the shadows, finding the perfect opening to shoot them right between the eyes. The hunter and the prey. Riveting stuff.

Except you're not a hitman. And you're not tracking down someone to shoot them.

You're a dumb, stupid idiot. And you're just trying to talk to your dumb, stupid best friend who is doing everything in his power to not talk to you.

And he's quite good at it too; it's like he's vanished from the space-time continuum itself. No one has seen him, no one has talked to him, no one has even heard of where he might be hiding. It's almost annoying how good Viktor is at everything he does.

You hadn't managed to sleep the rest of the night of what you now refer to as ‘The Call’. You watched the minutes pass one by one on your alarm clock, eyes wide open, mind bustling with too many questions to go to bed.

At six am sharp, you deemed you had waited long enough to stomp your way to Jayce's and Viktor's apartment. You weren't even sure of what you were going to say; you just had to talk to him. You couldn't let that conversation end the way it did.

You knocked firmly five times before Jayce cracked the door open with an audible groan, hair tussled, eyes barely open. It seemed he, too, hadn't spent a very restful night.

It took a few seconds for him to even register who was standing at the door; when he did, he visibly straightened his back in an attempt to look awake and composed.

Unfortunately for him, it did not work very well.

“H-hey,” he stammered, leaning against the doorway in false non-chalence. His voice was still heavy with sleep, and he audibly cleared his throat. “It's a little early, isn't it? The ol’ operating system usually only boots up when the sun is out,” he added jokingly, pointing a finger toward his forehead.

A valiant attempt at breaking the obvious tension, but you refused to budge. You glared at him, decidedly looking into his eyes.

“I need to talk to Viktor.”

Jayce made a strangled sound, which he tried to hide with a theatrical coughing fit.

“You… just missed him?” he managed to choke out with uncertainty. He was visibly trying to convince himself just as much as you. “He left to go prepare the lab. You know him, always doing extra research.”

He flashed you a smile, a practiced grin with perfect teeth that might have seemed genuine in other circumstances. But his bottom lip was quivering, and you could see Viktor's daily use cane leaning against the coat rack right behind him. Jayce was not exactly a master manipulator.

“Jayce, the university doesn't even open until seven thirty.”

He deflated at that, his large shoulders comically lowering. You could see he was thinking desperately for anything to say, but coming up empty-handed. Chances were he hadn't had his coffee yet, which knowing him, considerably lowered his ability to formulate coherent thoughts.

You were starting to feel bad; the poor guy was stuck being the literal last defence to his roommate, and he was genuinely giving it his best. Jayce might not have a career in acting, but he was a good friend.

That was more than you could say about yourself.

“Ok. I get it,” you sighed. “He needs space. I can respect that. Just… tell him to call me later, alright? Even just a text would be fine.”

Jayce seemed profoundly relieved you had agreed to back down, something you almost always refused to do under any circumstance. Yes, technically, you could stay put in front of that door and progressively chip away at Jayce's still barely conscious mind until Viktor decided to show himself.

But you felt guilty. Guilty for not realizing how he felt, guilty for treating him like your personal diary over the phone, guilty for not saying how you felt sooner. The conversation should be on Viktor's terms rather than your own.

“Yeah, I'll tell him,” Jayce gave you a small smile, comforting and honest. The next words came out less encouraging than he likely intended: “I'll try.”

But now, it's been a week since ‘The Call’, and Viktor has still shown no sign of wanting to talk. Your phone is frustratingly devoid of unread texts or missed calls no matter how often you check it. Your world feels like it's been spiralling out of control a little more every day, the uncertainty of everything left unsaid weighing you down like a ton of bricks. It's torture, and you can't help but feel like you kind of deserve it.

You should have known better than to call Viktor when you were drunk, and yet, you still did. Because there's nothing more natural to you than talking to him. It's become second nature, as natural as breathing or blinking.

Viktor is always so smart, and so composed, and so understanding, and so helpful- and he's probably the only person who likes hearing you go on rants for hours on end. How could you ever want to talk to anybody else after a breakup?

But when you're drunk, you lose the already feeble control you have over your verbal on-and-off switch. Everything spews out of you without a filter, as if you're vomiting all the thoughts that go through your mind one after the other. It's cathartic, for sure, but then you end up saying things that should never be said to the best friend you've secretly been in love with for years now.

Things like how your ex never took time to finger you properly, or how he had this stupid obsession with men not going down on women because he was an ungrateful asshole.

And then, those two little words.

“I would.”

There was no hesitation in his tone, no uncertainty. It was like he had the sentence on the tip of his tongue for the last two hours you had been whining to him. Like he had been waiting to say it for too long to contain it anymore.

The irony was that you had spent the last four years trying everything in your power to not let those stupid little words out too.

—

You met Viktor at your first university's faculty Christmas party.

You hated work parties.

You had only gotten the position of academic advisor a few months prior, and in that time you hadn't managed to form a single bond with any other employee in your entire department. It was always the same; you talked too much. You were too intense. You were tiresome.

You were you. And that was something a lot of people didn't like.

Needless to say, you didn't want to go to that stupid party. Everyone would split up into groups of friends and previous acquaintances, and any attempt at joining the conversation would result in discreet sighs and rolling eyes. Yet you still went, partly out of obligation, but also in the hopes something that night might be different for you.

But it hadn't been, and you were alone.

So you did what any well-adjusted adult did when they were faced with the indisputable fact they were the party outcast; you drank.

After one glass of cheap white wine, you felt more relaxed, less stiff. Just a nice amount of mellowed out.

After two glasses, you started to forget the self-preserving instinct of not approaching others. ‘Maybe you could try talking to someone, after all. It could be worth a shot.’

After three glasses, you forgot why you were so apprehensive in the first place. You were great! You rocked. You had so many things to say there was absolutely no way someone wouldn't love to hear all about it.

…but maybe you could get a fourth glass, first.

You headed back towards the drinks table, a little less steady and a whole more lot confident. So confident, you didn't realize you bumped right into someone's chest until a hand grabbed your arm to keep you upright.

“Ah, are you alright?” came a heavily accented voice above you. ‘Eastern European,’ you thought absentmindedly. ‘Ukranian, maybe Czech. I wonder if he knows they created the sugar cube…’

You took an unsteady step back, peaking up at the man blocking your way to the wine bottles.

‘Wow, he's handsome’, was your first, immediate thought.

“Wow, you're handsome,” were your first, immediate words.

The man spluttered in surprise. In all fairness, he probably hadn't been expecting for a stranger at a faculty party to be so direct. If you were still at glass number two, you might have realized it wasn't a very appropriate thing to say in this specific context.

But you were at glass number three and unabashedly staring at the man's face, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose.

That was the moment you realized he wasn't a stranger.

You knew him. Not his name, or who he was, but you felt absolutely certain you had seen him before. You scanned your jumbled brain for the memory of his face. So beautifully sculpted, like he was made of stone. You knew him, you had it on the tip of your tongue-

“Miss?” the man asked, seemingly unsure whether to be perplexed or worried at your silent glaring. “Would you like me to help you sit-”

“Tuna sandwich!” you yelled with a huge grin. A few other partygoers turned towards you in confusion, but you were much too overjoyed at the epiphany you were experiencing to realize.

The man blinked slowly. Then once again, like he was trying to process whether or not he had understood correctly. His head cocked slightly to the side in bewilderment.

“… I'm sorry, what did you say ?”

You poked his chest with an insistent finger, beaming: “You're tuna sandwich! The tuna sandwich guy!”

The man looked to the side warily, mouth opening and closing, visibly searching for some kind of help. When he found none, his golden eyes fell back to you, catching the glow of the ceiling lights. The spark of an aurora through the night sky.

“I'm… afraid I truly have no idea what you're talking about,” he explained gently, the warmth of his hand leaving your arm. You deflated a little at that, the notion of embarrassment creeping back in you.

But he hadn't left. He was still here.

He was listening to you.

“My office is next to the cafeteria,” you started, straightening your dress and trying to appear more professional. “I see you, every day, at eleven forty-five, before morning classes end. I always thought that was smart, because you get to skip the lunch rush and there's still a lot of choices for meals.”

The man seemed bemused by the comment, but didn't show signs of wanting to take off. That made you regain some of your drunken confidence.

“But you always take a tuna sandwich,” you continued. ”That's it. Every day. You never buy anything else. It's always the tuna sandwich at eleven forty-five.”

He let out a confused chuckle, the ghost of a teasing smile on his lips.

“I didn't realize I had an audience.”

His presence had been so hypnotic you barely even realized what you had been saying.

‘Oh God, that sounded creepy, didn't it?’

“Don't flatter yourself,” you quickly added, embarrassed, looking away to stare at a particularly interesting stain on the floor. “I look at what everyone's doing. It's my job to.”

He hummed mirthfully, his golden gaze fully amused now:

“And what job would that be? Voyeur?”

You almost choked on your own spit.

“Guidance councillor, smart guy,” you countered, feeling your cheeks heat up. How was a stranger rattling you this much? You were usually the one whose words left others confused. “I look at people, and I figure out what they want in life. I help them find careers. I’ll have you know that's an extremely important task, mister-”

You squinted at the sticky nametag on his chest, trying to decipher the very slanted handwriting. You vaguely remembered the blue stickers were reserved for teachers.

“…Professor…?” you struggled weakly, hoping he would fill in the illegible part.

He thankfully seemed to find your attempt more endearing than insulting.

“Just call me Viktor,” he answered with a sincere smile. His lips were slightly crooked, the left dimple just barely more present on his left side than his right. There was a tiny little beauty spot next to his cupid bow; the thought that it would be nice to lick it just to confirm it wasn't a speck of the chocolate cake flashed in your mind.

‘Focus, focus!’

“Tell me, Viktor,” you cleared your throat. You had to get it together. This was the longest conversation you had been able to maintain with a fellow faculty member without them looking like they wanted to run away. “Why tuna? There's so many other sandwiches to choose from. You could take the egg salad, or the turkey sub, or the spicy chicken…”

You were definitely being too insistent on the tuna thing. If he didn't think you were weird before, he would now.

And yet Viktor still didn't leave. He considered your question seriously, taking a few thoughtful seconds to answer:

“It's the only one with multigrain bread. Very low fat for a good source of omega-3 and protein. And I don't dislike it, so it makes the most sense as a daily meal,” he mused, almost like it was the first time he had ever thought about it, too.

Huh.

“That's a sad way of looking at things,” you commented before thinking.

Before you could mentally swear at your debilitating lack of restraint, Viktor countered the statement with seemingly genuine curiosity:

“How so?”

You had a chance to say something cute and short, and leave the topic at that. It would be a major win for you; your first enjoyable talk with a coworker. Maybe you would even exchange email addresses by the end of the night.

Or…

You could be yourself. Let the floodgate of constant thoughts and observations pour out for a minute. Show this random handsome man who you were, really.

Had you not been drunk and sound of mind, you would have gone for the former. But as it happened, you were quite drunk, and you chose the latter. You took a deep breath before speaking:

“Means you only value food as something that's needed, like taste and flavour isn’t important. You deny yourself basic pleasures out of fear you'll get used to them and grow complacent. You're probably the type of guy who slaves away in his office for hours, not even realizing he's hungry, because it's lost all relevance to him.”

The silence that followed felt eerie. The expression on Viktor's face was blank, mouth barely agape, brows slightly furrowed. You had fucked it up, again.

“Sorry,” you muttered, feeling incredibly foolish. “That was overstepping.”

“No, actually,“ Viktor responded almost eagerly, the sparkle in his eyes bright, “Keep going. What else can you tell?”

There was palpable interest in his tone, in the way his body leaned slightly closer to yours. He wanted to know. He wanted to listen to you.

“The tuna sandwich is twenty-five cents cheaper than all the other ones,” you continued slowly, afraid of breaking the spell that was keeping him attentive to your words. “Usually a sign of a lower class upbringing, shows that you're used to thinking with a controlled budget, even if you don't need to anymore. You likely value hard work and commitment.”

You paused once more to gauge his reaction, but he didn't say anything, clearly waiting for you to continue. So, you did.

“It's always eleven forty-five sharp. You're precise, mechanical. Probably in the department of medicine, or some form of applied science. Am I right?”

“Biomechanical engineering,” he specified with a baffled smile. “Incredible. All that from a sandwich?”

You shrugged, feeling giddy under the weight of the compliment. It was so utterly rare that anyone would actually enjoy your rambling.

“I notice things about people, and I tell them. Couldn’t quite cut it as a detective or a psychologist, so it makes me an ok guidance counsellor,” you smiled, adding an audible wince. “But the person you really gotta avoid at parties.”

He laughed at that, a pretty, earnest sound, slightly low and nasal. The kind of laugh that would make the heart of a weaker person skip a beat.

You blamed the fact that yours did in fact skip a beat entirely on the alcohol.

“I-I'm sure what you do is a lot more impressive, though,” you quickly stammered out. Why were you stuttering?

He shrugged, bony shoulders visible through his button-up shirt. A few beauty marks decorated his neck where the collar didn't reach; you wondered how many more the fabric was hiding.

“Eh, I wouldn't bet on that. Gait analysis, prosthetic limb design. Much less creative than one might think,” he commented with a certain indifferent boredom; yet there was a certain light in his eyes that spoke otherwise. Maybe he was also the type of person people didn’t listen to much. “But it does feel rewarding to do something for others who might not have my luck.”

He pointed down with his chin, and for the first time since you began talking to him, you realized he was holding a cane.

You, whose only redeeming quality was having good observational skills, hadn't noticed the man you had been talking to for the last ten minutes was holding a cane. A refined-looking one at that, with a deep burgundy tainted wood for the shaft, and a sleek handle the colour of tarnished gold. ‘Maybe if you stopped looking at his face for a goddamn second you would have noticed’ you scolded yourself.

“Ah,” you blurted out pathetically. “That's… that's really cool.” You were looking at his fingers. You were looking at his long, slim fingers holding his cane, calloused yet delicate, and you were imagining them in places they should definitely not be in.

You had absolutely no idea what you had just said to him.

Yet Viktor only seemed more amused, his smirk growing ever so slightly.

“Yes, I also like to think of it as ‘cool’, from time to time.”

A drink. What you needed was another drink. Then perhaps you would reach a level of enlightenment where you would remember how to not look like a complete fool in front of attractive professors, who probably did quantum physics as a hobby.

As if he had read your mind, Viktor shifted in the direction of the drinks table, giving you a knowing smile. Were you so easy to read, or was he simply so good at reading you?

“I’d offer to bring you a glass of wine, but I believe that may have been your original intention before reading my palm,” he joked.

‘It's nothing like fortune telling, it's just logical analysis !’ part of you wanted to retort.

‘Give me your palm and I'll show you what my real fucking intentions are,’ purred the other one.

If you didn't get out of here now, you would say something that would definitely end your career before it had even taken off.

“I think I'll probably head home for the night. I've already had a little too much to drink,” you smiled hesitantly. Understatement of the century.

You could have sworn you saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Then again, you had probably imagined it. If anything, he was likely relieved he had finally managed to escape the babbling lunatic. Someone like him, so brilliant and accomplished, had no reason to willingly listen to the ramblings of a glorified high school school councillor.

But…

“But… maybe you could give me your number?” you asked hesitantly, taking one final, vulnerable leap of faith. “Just for work, of course!”, you added hastily.

Viktor did not seem angry or disgusted at the proposal; in fact, his smile widened, revealing a slightly uneven row of teeth. Cute. Everything about him was attractive.

“I would like that,” Viktor said softly, amber eyes warm. “I did enjoy hearing you talk.”

Your heart made a heavy, dull thud. With a small wave, he was gone, disappearing somewhere into the crowd like he had been nothing more than a hallucination conjured up by the cheap wine.

Your first work friend.

A potential real friend. Someone who genuinely didn't seem to hate the sound of your voice.

It was much too precious to lose over some passing, drunken attraction. You absolutely had to crush these emotions now to prevent them from becoming anything serious. After all, it wasn't like you had a shadow of chance with someone like him.

Perhaps for the first time in your life, you decided to stay silent about something, no matter what would happen in the future.

He couldn't know.

You would never let him know.

[loucifersbitch]

JULES MY BELOVED CONGRATULATIONS ON THE MILESTONE!!!

Can I have Bucktommy + marriage proposal please and thank you!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

uhh so this got away from me a bit 😅 i hope it's okay!

Tommy had barely walked through the bay doors of the 118 when he was accosted by Eddie and Howie.

"Uhh, hey guys. What's up?"

"How's it going, Tommy?" Howie asked, steering him toward the far loft stairs in a maneuver about as subtle as a Halligan to the face.

"Yeah, man, how you been?" Eddie added, his tone of voice just slightly too high.

Feeling more suspicious by the second, Tommy answered, "Um, fine? What's going on? Where's Evan? He left me a message to meet him here at the end of my shift."

"He's upstairs," Bobby said from the side door as he walked in behind them, joining their seemingly-growing posse.

"Oh-kay?" he said, now even more confused.

He began to climb the stairs up to the loft and spotted Hen at the top, shaking her head fondly. Tommy looked over his shoulder to see the three men following him up the stairs like giddy ducklings.

When he reached the landing, he quietly asked Hen, "What the hell is going on?"

"You'll see," she smiled, her eyes sparkling with whatever secret they were all barely keeping contained.

"Great," he breathed. Making his way past the sitting area, he finally spotted Evan near the kitchen. "Evan, what's -?" he stopped short.

"Hey, Tommy," he said softly, his face lighting up as it always did when Tommy arrived. However, there were a few differences in Evan's appearance that Tommy hadn't expected. His hair was curly as ever, if slightly more tame, and instead of his work uniform, he was in a suit. It was clearly new, a light gray that fit every inch of him perfectly, the burnt orange tie and pocket square bringing out the blue of his eyes.

As he took in more of his surroundings, he noticed the matching burnt orange decor around the firehouse loft and the flowers placed here and there.

"Ev, what is all this?" he asked as Evan continued walking toward him with determination.

Evan bit his lip, then began, "For most of my life, I've been searching for something. It felt like some part of me was missing or locked away, and I couldn't figure out what it was. I traveled all across the country - even went down to Peru - before ending up here. I felt at home here, and I built a family," he paused to look at the group standing silently behind them, far enough away to give them a little privacy. "I thought I had everything I needed, and yet I still didn't feel settled. I wasn't at ease. But then," he grabbed Tommy's hand in his own, "some lunatic with a pilot's license flew into a hurricane to help save my family. And even when it was over, I couldn't stop thinking about him." Tommy felt his cheeks color remembering their early days. "It was a bit of a rocky start," Evan chuckled, "but he gave me a second chance. And then a third. And he just kept giving me chances. He never gave up on me, even when I thought for sure I'd finally chased him away. He stayed. He showed up." Evan took a breath, licked his lips, and continued, "You always show up for me, Tommy. Whenever I need, whatever I need, you're there. Every single day you show me what it means to be cared for and loved unconditionally. You opened my eyes to that thing I'd been searching for. I'm finally settled. So," he said, easily dropping down to one knee and pulling a velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket, "Tommy -"

"Evan," Tommy's voice broke as he took a shaky breath.

"Tommy," Evan pressed on, smiling, "will you marry me?"

Tommy was nodding before Evan had even finished the question. He let out a wet laugh, then said, "Yeah. Yes, Evan. I'll marry you."

Evan stood up to pull him into a kiss, neither of them able to stop smiling long enough to kiss properly. A whoop followed by whistling and clapping started up behind them, and they broke apart to laugh at the absurdity. They turned to look at everyone - Evan's family, their family - and were immediately enveloped in a group hug. Hen stood back for a moment, typing something on her phone before pocketing it and joining the rest of them.

"Sent the video to everyone else," she explained. "Maddie said she'd kill me and Chim and probably Buck if she didn't get to see it right away."

"I'm pretty sure that was a promise," Howie added.

Bobby nodded and said, "Athena also threatened bodily harm to anyone who kept it from her."

"So where's the ring?" Eddie asked.

"The - oh, right!" Evan said, still clutching the box in his hand. He opened it, revealing a black band with a gold inlay. "It's tungsten," he explained, slipping it out of the box and onto Tommy's ring finger. "It's durable, but we'll need to get silicone rings for on the job."

"Evan, it's beautiful," Tommy said, holding his hand up to see how the gold glinted in the light.

Eddie cleared his throat, and Evan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I had some help," he admitted, and Eddie gave a ridiculous bow.

"Thank you," Tommy said, turning to Evan and kissing him properly, everyone else backing away.

"Alright, that's enough man love for one day," Hen said. "No offense boys, but I'm going to go home and kiss my wife."

Before she could get too far, Tommy pulled her into a crushing hug. "Thank you," he said sincerely. If it hadn't been for Hen's gut instinct that something was wrong during the hurricane, he probably never would've met Evan.

"Be good to him," she said, squeezing back, "or I'll revoke your movie night privileges."

"You wouldn't!" he said, aghast.

She only raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that said she was serious.

As soon as she left his embrace for Evan's, Howie grabbed him, forcing a quiet oof out of his lungs.

"Welcome to the family, brother-in-law," he said. "Jee wants to do your nails for the wedding, by the way."

Tommy laughed, "I think that's fair since her dad is the reason I'm alive. Plus she's the only one I trust to do it right."

"Deal." Howie patted him once more on the back before following Hen down to the locker room.

Bobby shook his hand and pulled him into a hug. "I'm not going to tell you to take care of him because I already know you will. But make sure he takes care of you, too, okay? Be good to each other."

"Of course."

~***~

Later that evening as they were getting ready for bed, Tommy couldn't help staring at his left hand.

"Do you want an engagement ring, too?" he asked as Evan crawled in next to him. "Doesn't seem right if I have one but you don't."

"Sure," Evan said with a yawn. "We can go look tomorrow, okay? Or whenever. No rush."

"Yeah, no rush," Tommy said, pulling Evan close and kissing the top of his head.

[spatialwave]

i am LOVING your angus tully content 💕 would you please write an angus tully x reader where the reader meets angus in boston while they’re ice skating and then they get to know each other as they explore the city, sort of ‘before sunrise’ style and hunham gives them the space to do so? if you don’t like this idea though that’s totally okay!! have a lovely day regardless :)

𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader word count: 4k notes: reader is very nervous & dorky! thank u for sending 🤎

the chilly december air stung your cheeks, leaving them reddened and sore, but that didn’t stop you from braving the weather and heading to the public skating rink. your friends had cancelled on you last minute, one of them falling sick with a nasty cold and the other deciding that her boyfriend was more important than a night with you during the festivities that boston had to offer. you couldn't be angry at her, though, you were a hopeless romantic at heart and would do the same if you had a boyfriend. you were happy that your best friend found someone so perfect for her, you dreamed of finding him too—the perfect boy.

though, you usually just giggled in your bed at night when you imagined yourself spending the rest of your life with david cassidy. that was much easier than finding real love.

so, alone you were as you willed your way ahead through the boston streets where your father had dropped you off. you promised yourself you'd start getting out of your nervous shell and what better way to test it than being alone at a skating rink? especially when you were notoriously clumsy and horrendous at skating.

if you could do this, you could do anything.

as you approached the skating rink you felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety flooding you. there were a lot of people, too many people, a lot of friends giggling with each other, children learning how to skate with their parents and partners holding hands as they stared into each other's eyes lovingly. you sorely missed your friends, but you shoved that thought as deeply into your consciousness as you could because you promised yourself you wouldn't wallow in your loneliness.

and you were here, weren’t you? successfully making do without them. all you needed to do was get the skates on and make your way onto the ice—that’s all. getting here was half the battle.

comfort warmed you as you fit yourself into the hand-me-down skates your older sister had given you. you tried so hard not to think about the negatives because even if you slipped and fell, it’s not like anyone here knew you. there was not a single person on the rink that looked even the slightest bit familiar and you thanked god you lived in a busy city.

of course, you were unsuccessful in ridding those thoughts because all you could think about was that there was a likely chance you could embarrass yourself in front of a cute boy. you were too boy-crazy for your own good, your mother blamed david cassidy for it.

as you let out a shaky exhale, you darted your eyes around the exterior of the rink as you shrugged off your bag and held your winter boots in your hand. you had ran into your first problem of the evening; there was no one to watch your belongings.

that’s when you noticed an older man just to the left of you, smoking out of a pipe and watching the rink, smiling to himself. he seemed friendly enough, reminding you a lot of your grandpa. there was no better person to watch your things!

“excuse me sir,” you said to him, smiling as you approached him cautiously, “is it alright if i leave my things here next to you? i’m not skating for long… i just don’t want to take them onto the rink with me.”

the man hadn’t realized you were talking to him at first as he pulled the pipe out of his mouth and looked between you and someone on the skating rink. he smacked his lips together a few times in thought, “okay. sure, i don’t mind.” he mumbled, though you could tell that he minded.

he was grumpier than you pegged him to be.

“thank you so much! i won’t be long!” you smiled, happy that you had some form of success, but again you had to ward off the image in your head of him running off with your things. at least he’d only have stolen a woman’s snow boots and three dollars from your wallet.

as you waddled away, you hadn’t noticed that a boy on the rink had skated up to the older man, you were much too focused on not toppling over. your ankles were already wobbling back and forth as you navigated through the snow, unaware of the set of eyes that lingered on you with each step you took.

“you got this,” you breathed to yourself as you made it to the entrance, taking a long and deep breath that caught in your throat. you froze in your spot, feeling frigid as you watched the tens of people skating along the rink so seemingly expert in their ways.

a woman cleared her throat behind you and you jolted up, looking over your shoulder and seeing a mother and her two children waiting to step into the rink, “sorry!” you squealed as you hurried onto the ice and clung to the railing for dear life.

the sounds of the young kids snickering made your cheeks burn red, so you kept your eyes downward and stared at your mitten-covered hands as they gripped onto the rail. then you focused on your feet, slowly moving them back and forth on the ice as you got used to the feeling of the skates gliding across the frozen surface.

with a triumphant huff, you straightened up and slowly started to skate with your hand keeping balance on the edge, much like a learning child. at least they usually had a helper.

you had focused on this for a bit, getting into the swing of things. you looked around with a content smile, slowly moving and breathing in the crisp air as you focused on the sounds of laughter. the christmas spirit was high and you were happier than ever to be experiencing this alone, you couldn’t wait to go home and gush to your sister about your first solo adventure as a young woman.

satisfaction wasn’t fully met, however. you needed to challenge yourself further before calling it a night.

carefully, you let your hand off of the rail and moved carefully away from the edge. your eyes darted around your immediate surroundings, making sure you had enough of a clearing to start skating without bumping into anyone. a big smile grew on your face, you were by no means quick, but at least you were moving!

you focused your eyes back down on your feet, watching closely as you moved one in front of the other with intention. you were getting the hang of it, muscle memory coming back from when you skated as a kid. with your attention far from the outside world, you didn’t notice a duo of young girls coming right for you—too busy laughing amongst each other to notice you drifting in front of them.

one of the girls bumped hard into your shoulder and yelped out a sincere ‘sorry’ as you lost your balance on your feet. you almost kept yourself upright, but you quickly fell back.

you expected to crash down onto the ice with a hard thump, but two arms caught you, hooking underneath your armpits and hoisting you back upright onto your skates. you didn’t have the means to turn around all that quickly, but the person who saved you seemed to realize that, so he skated in front of you and turned to look at you. he made it seem so easy to skate backward.

“you okay?” he asked, but you hardly heard the words because you were so fascinated with how beautiful he was. he had the biggest brown eyes you’d ever seen and a head full of wild curls that he obviously tried to tame. he was also taller than you, making you feel so small under his gaze, but not threatening in the slightest. all you could do was smile at him like a dork.

your knight in shining armour.

a few moments pass and the realization hit that you had been completely silent, “thank you!” you blurted out, your eyes widening in horror because of how you were staring at him like a goddamned fool, "i'm not very good at this."

"you were doing fine until you got bulldozed over," the boy smiled, unabashedly looking you up and down. he cleared his throat and held out two of his gloved hands, "hang on."

you obeyed with no hesitation, your arms extending so you could take his gloved hands in your own. you felt your mouth go dry and you had to force your hands to stop shaking. you were always so much more anxious around boys.

"oh, god," you groaned in anticipation as he started skating backward, pulling you along and forcing you to focus on keeping balance, "you really don't have to spend your time here teaching me how to skate." you looked up at him, feeling like a burden.

"i know," he replied, grinning at you as he kept pulling you along the ice, his gaze only breaking to make sure he wasn't about to skate back into anyone. those brown eyes fell back on you, watching you with a soft gaze as you kept moving with one foot gliding in front of the other, "i'm angus."

"hi, angus," you smiled, chewing on the inside of your lip after you returned the introduction. you could feel your cheeks blushing. you looked down and at your feet again, but your lack of focus got the best of you, "ah, shit!"

just as you lost your footing and balance, nearly flying forward, angus wrapped an arm around you and laughed aloud, pulling you against him so you couldn't tip over. you could've stayed like that forever, nuzzled against this boy's chest and forgetting about the outside world.

"you're clumsy," he teased, flickering his gaze down at you as he led you both to the railing for a rest.

"you only just noticed?" you retorted playfully as you leaned against the support, letting yourself exhale in relief once you could rest the entirety of your weight against it. shyly, you looked back over to angus after a few beats of silence, "you're not here with anyone else?"

angus scrunched his nose in response, shrugging, "it's a long story."

"i like stories," you mused, not ready to let this end. whatever this was.

a breathy laugh came from him as he glanced away to look at something, you hadn't been able to follow his gaze before he was looking at you again. there was something about him that kept your attention, likely the fact that he genuinely seemed to enjoy your presence. it made you giddy and your stomach swirled with butterflies.

"well, i came here with my history teacher," he said, almost sheepishly. you looked at him with slightly furrowed brows, uncertain where this would be going, "i go to a boarding school out of town, north of here. i, uh, didn't get to spend christmas with my family and so i've been stuck at school with him as my chaperone. guess i'm good at convincing people to take me places," he chuckled, his gaze looking anywhere but at you.

"i don't think i would've guessed that story in a million years," you giggled, a smile reaching your eyes as you looked over angus' face, "sorry about your family, though. must be hard around the holidays."

"it's fine," he quipped quickly, you figured it best to not bring up his family anymore.

you fell silent for a bit, thinning your lips as you looked around and focused on your surroundings to pass the time and try to ignore the awkward silence. you watched a group of kids skating together, playfully shoving each other and laughing when one of them wiped out.

"did you want to skate again?" angus' voice broke the silence and you met his eyes. with a small nod, he smiled and gave you his hands again.

the two of you had spent another twenty minutes on the skating rink, laughing together as he taught you how to keep yourself upright. you were happy to report that you'd only fallen on your ass twice, and even when he laughed at you, you felt your heart soaring.

there must've been some good karma you stored up over the year because you weren't sure why you were blessed to run into angus on a night like this. he was cute, funny and just as awkward as you were.

once you two were tired and ready to hang the skates up, you ventured out of the rink and stood at the exit. you had to catch your breath after laughing over some joke angus had made about his time at barton, something stupid that wouldn't have made you laugh in another other situation. angus was just... nice. funny, but in an endearingly dorky way.

as you bent down to untie your skates, you straightened up with a panicked look on your face. "my stuff!" you said, looking up at angus and then around the exterior of the rink, trying to spot the man you'd left your things with. that's where the bad karma came in, leaving you with nothing.

"are you looking for these?" a third voice spoke, your eyes landing on the pipe-smoking man that angus seemed to recognize. you put the pieces together.

"yes! thank you so much!" you smiled as you took the boots from him and your bag, quickly changing into the shoes that allowed you to stand steady. you sighed softly with a smile and looked between the two men, "i, uh, thank you again, sir, for keeping an eye on my things. and thanks, angus, i'm sure by next winter i'll be an olympic figure skater," you smiled, not quite ready to leave without spending more time with the boy, but you weren't sure you'd have the choice.

as luck would have it, though, his teacher, mr. hunham, seemed to have a soft spot for the boy.

"mr. tully, i'm calling it an evening and will be heading to the hotel room, i'm rather tired this evening," the older man explained. you could see the pleading look on angus's face, "i expect to see you there within a few hours or lest you deal with multiple detentions when we're back at barton," he continued with a satisfied look on his face when angus smile, "keep an eye on him for me." he turned to you, letting out a huffy sigh as he looked between the two of you once more before turning on his heels and leaving.

angus was speechless.

"he seems like a nice man," you said in awe as you watched him, growing nervous for other reasons now.

"trust me. he's usually not," angus replied, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looked down at you, "you look cold. i think i saw i coffee shop near here. they probably have hot chocolate or something."

"okay," you smiled, forcing yourself not to let your boy-crazy giddiness get the best of you again.

as you two ventured away from the skating rink, you found yourself feeling more comfortable with each passing second and talking about yourself like an open book. you spoke about everything and nothing, his favourite band was pink floyd and he was currently halfway through reading the novel dune. you shared your own love for the partridge family show, though, you kept your lips tight about your obsession with david cassidy.

you made a mental note to rip the poster of david off your wall if something were to ever come out of this night with you and angus, like hell he'd ever be in your room.

"what do you like so much about boston?" you asked angus as you two walked through one of the downtown streets in boston, your mittens shoved in your pocket as your hands cupped around the hot chocolate you sipped on. the heat emanated from the paper cup and warmed your hands. you two had been walking and talking for a while now and your drink was half-empty.

"you like long-winded answers, don't you?" angus said playfully, bumping himself against your side as you walked together. it caused a laugh to bubble up from you, your cheeks turning red at the closeness.

"what's so long about this answer?" you wondered aloud, glancing up at him.

"my dad is here," he said after taking a moment to think over his words, "he's uh, in the sanitorium," he murmured, not quite meeting your gaze, "not doing well mentally."

"you don't have to say anymore," you urged him, regretful that you asked the question in the first place.

"it's fine, i like you. you're not... judging me." angus admitted, flickering his eyes to you and smiling.

oh, god. that smile made your stomach do flips.

"why would i judge you?" you asked rhetorically, "you've been nothing but kind to me tonight. you didn't even know me and you caught me before i fell on my ass, i mean, that's the most any guy has ever done for me... and you bought me hot chocolate!" you were animated in your words as you spoke, not noticing how you lit up angus' facial expressions.

"like i said, it's because i like you." his lips twitched into a smile before he lifted his cup and downed the rest of his drink. you followed in suit, though, mostly to cover the way you had a smile stuck on your face like a lovesick puppy.

you two found an outdoor garbage bin and tossed your empty cups in, standing on a corner of the street that was near the courtyard with the skating rink. it was quiet there now, only then noticing how late it had gotten.

"so, what's your story?" angus interrupted your thoughts as he kept walking, you needing to take a few quick steps to meet his pace as he led you to a bench to sit down on. the perfect spot to watch the christmas lights flicker around the rink and people watch the last remaining people who were skating.

"it's hardly a story," you laughed, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked up to the night sky, the stars hidden because of the city lights, "i'm just crawling my way to graduation so i can get out of my parent's house and go to college," you look over at him, "are you graduating, too?"

he shook his head, "i was expelled a few times," he admitted with an amused look on his face, "should be graduating, but stuck as a junior because of my atrocious behaviour," he teased with a click of his tongue.

"expelled?" you laughed, "wow, i didn't expect such a gentleman like you to be so fond of troublemaking."

that got a laugh out of him, the smile reaching his eyes as he turned ever-so-slightly to better look at you while you two sat together, "yep, i'm the absolute worst. though, i plead my case as i've been wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet once when it was obviously not true."

"uh-huh," you smirked, "are you certain about the wrongly accused part?" you snorted a laugh.

the night was perfect. the two of you sharing so many laughs that your cheeks were hurting and you were beginning to feel like you knew angus for years and this was simply a reunion of friends. you knew at some point it would end, but you didn't want to think about it. not yet, it was too painful of a thought.

your laughter settled and you couldn't break your gaze from angus, the silence looming, but not overwhelming. as you admired him, you caught the way his brown eyes flickered down to your lips and you inhaled sharply, the breath catching.

"i, uh—can i kiss you?" his words were gentle, but they rang through your ears loudly, causing chaos and mayhem that left you feeling like a nervous wreck, "unless i'm reading this wrong."

you parted your lips to speak but nothing came out. all you could do was look down at his lips and nod, hoping that your movements spoke volumes. thankfully, they did.

angus leaned forward, hesitating for a second, but if you could will your way forward to adventuring boston alone, then you could sure as hell will your way forward to meet him halfway. you leaned forward bravely and closed your eyes just as your lips met his, a tingling sensation rolling waves over your skin.

it was a simple kiss, one that made your lips numb when you pulled away and looked up into his eyes. but it wasn’t enough for angus because you were soon pulled into another as his hand lifted and cupped your jaw, keeping you against him as your lips moved together at a gentle, easy pace. he parted your lips with his own, which gave him the space to slip his tongue into your mouth and cause a soft sound to escape your lips. you were fully entranced by him, completely malleable under his touch as you tasted his tongue on your own—sweet like chocolate.

this went on for a few minutes, maybe longer. you two indulging in the kiss you both were anticipating the moment you set eyes on each other.

“this sucks,” you murmured when the kiss finally broke, you two parting to breathe.

“why?” angus furrowed his brows slightly, his hand still on your jaw.

“because i really like you,” you said, pursing your lips into a pout, “and at some point i’m going to have to say goodbye.”

angus shared the sentiment, frowning slightly, “i’ll come to boston again, okay?” he said, just as passionate about you as you were to him, “and if you give me your number i promise to call you.”

you nodded, sighing and watching the way your warm breath fogged up in the cold air. the city was so silent and you’d never been able to experience it quite like this, let alone with a boy you kissed. knowing that it was getting late, though, left you nervous. you had told your parents you wouldn’t be out long and would go to your sister's apartment downtown for a ride back home—leave it up to a boy like angus tully to make it fun to break the rules.

“when do you go back to barton?” you asked him quietly like you didn’t want to hear the answer.

“the day after tomorrow,” angus murmured, his thumb stroking along the skin over your cheek, “i’m gonna’ try visit my dad tomorrow,” he said, “that’s the whole reason i convinced mr. hunham to bring me here, he doesn’t even know.”

you widened your eyes in surprise, “do you think he’ll let you go?”

“probably not, but i’ll find a way.” he said, but not quite fully convinced.

“it’ll work out, angus,” you said, a shiver running up his spine as you said his name, “just like you and me. i’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

he was glad that you managed to see the bright side in all of this, as the night was coming to an end he was beginning to let his negative thoughts pull through. already he could tell that you were going to be a big part of his life, even if it ended up being fleeting and short.

“come on,” angus breathed out, removing his hand from your cheek and standing up. he offered his hand for you to take.

“where are we going?” you asked him, blinking a few times as you took his hand, no mittens or gloves in the way as his fingers interlaced with yours.

“nowhere in particular,” he said, keeping you close as you walked through the quiet boston streets in the early morning hours and spending the last bit of freedom together that you two could muster.

when all was said and done, you found yourself exhausted as you curled up in your bed with the first bit of sunrise spilling through your curtains. it was a bittersweet end to your night with angus, leaving you uncertain about what the future would hold. all you knew was that you’d be waiting for that phone call he promised you.

and taking down your poster of david cassidy.

[blueblossomrose]

hi, I hope you are well!

i have a askk

what about Genshin Impact characters with a fem!reader who has powers similar to Gojo Satoru?

Hey! Sorry for the late delivery 😭

You didn't specify which characters you wanted so I just put the ones I thought fit on my proposal 👁

Characters: Wanderer (Scaramouche), Lisa, Diluc, Xiao, Thoma, Lumine/Aether (both travelers).

Content: It can be interpreted as platonic or romantic, some swear words perhaps, mention of violence typical of the Jujutsu Kaisen canon, reader is gn but more like male because Gojo is a man.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

[Name] was a complex individual. He/She came to Teyvat along with the traveler, apparently being from a noble family from his/her and the traveler's original world. Yet, his/her incredibly strong strength and abilities coupled with his/her arrogant personality make the residents of Teyvat confused.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" Wanderer, or Scara, as you call him against his will, while you two were on a mission, looking for mint for the traveler.

"Can't you see? Water fall! Hehe~" you laughed foolishly as your technique prevented the water from reaching you, making a small waterfall above your head.

Scara let out a sound similar to a grunt mixed with a deep sigh.

"Why in the world traveler just have to put me with you?"

“Oh, stop complaining. I bet you’re secretly having fun.”

“Having fun? What in Teyvat makes you think that’s fun?” Scara narrowed his eyes at [Name], clearly exasperated.

“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you? If you really wanted to leave, you would have found a way by now.”

For a moment, the Wanderer was silent, his prepared response dying in his throat. He stared at the waterfall, and as much as he wanted to deny it, there was something... comforting about the scene. Something so simple, yet so absurdly peaceful that he couldn't help but let his guard down a little. He looked away, sulking.

"You're insufferable." he finally muttered, though his voice sounded less sharp.

"That sounds like a compliment coming from you!" [Name] replied with a wink.

Scara gave him a long, sharp look. "If you don't find the mint in ten minutes, I'll throw you under the waterfall for real."

The traveler was worried that you would end up killing each other. Surprisingly, you are always cursing each other but you have never gotten physical.

Perhaps it helped that the traveler made it clear to the Wanderer that you were the strongest in your world. Scara is not stupid, he doesn't pick fights with the stronger ones. Yet, he learned a lot about the kind of person you are.

"I'd like to find those artifact books before the traveler gets mad at me. I mean, Lumine/Aether can even cry!" [Name] said with an overly dramatic air, leaning forward slightly as she stared at Jean.

Jean just shook her head and sighed. Despite everything, a slight smile played at the corners of her lips, evidence that she did, in fact, find [Name]'s antics amusing.

"You never miss a chance to put on a show, do you?" Jean commented.

At the top of the stairs, Lisa watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Leaning against the banister, she looks at [Name]. “Hmm, if I were crying, would you comfort me? Honestly, I would love that.”

[Name] looked up at Lisa, eyes shining with provocation. “Ah, Lisa, but you never cry! You’re too strong for that.”

“Aha, really?” Lisa smiled and laughed softly.

When Traveler asked if you really thought Lisa was that strong or were joking, you just shrugged.

Honestly, Lisa could be really strong!... or it could be pure flattery too, who knows?

“What kind of bartender doesn’t like alcohol?” [Name] asked, arching an eyebrow as watched Diluc with a wry smile, fiddling with the dessert glass you had just finished devouring.

Diluc paused for a moment, the cloth falling onto the counter with a restrained sigh. He stared at [Name] with an expression that was on the edge of patience, his eyes narrowed. "I don't think you're the ideal person to judge me," Diluc retorted, his fingers touching the glass gently. "Being the psychotic for sweets that you are, I mean."

You made a dramatic movement of placing your hand over your chest, simulating an expression of exaggerated offense.

"Aaah, but that has nothing to do with it! I don't own a wine cellar!" You replied, turning your face away.

"If I work as a gravedigger, do I need to be buried?" Diluc said dryly, placing the glass back on the shelf with precision.

"That doesn't even make sense!" [Name] exclaimed, shrugging. "You're just making things up because you have no arguments." the sarcasm was clear in your voice, but there was also a subtle glint in your eyes that suggested you was enjoying the exchange.

Diluc let out a sigh, looking more tired than irritated.

"Tell me, [Name], why exactly is someone who clearly doesn't enjoy alcohol here in my wine cellar, filling my counter with candy crumbs?" he asked, taking a step towards the counter to organize the bottles with meticulous precision.

[Name] made a dramatic gesture with the hands, smiling teasingly. "Oh, it's nothing. I just like looking at your face and your red hair~"

Diluc huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at [Name] with a mixture of irritation and resignation. “[Name], don’t you have anything better to do than break into my wine cellar and distract me while I work?” he asked, his tone exasperated but low enough not to draw the attention of his employees.

“No, actually, I don’t,” [Name] replied, with a mischievous smile that contrasted with Diluc’s scowl. “Besides, you have to admit that company does lighten the mood of this place. It’s so… melancholy. It seems like someone here is carrying a lot of grief.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t bite at the provocation. He slung the cloth over his shoulder and grabbed a fresh bottle of wine to organize the shelves, turning his attention back to his work. “If you think this place is gloomy, maybe you shouldn’t be here. I’m sure Jean or Albedo would love to hear your unnecessary comments elsewhere.”

“But neither of them have that hair,” [Name] replied, plucking an imaginary strand out of the air and twirling his fingers theatrically. “You know, you could use a little more lightheartedness. Maybe I should bring you some sweets next time. Something that matches your hidden charm.”

“I don’t need a lightheartedness, and certainly not your sweets scattered all over the counter,” Diluc retorted, finally turning to face him. “Why are you really here, [Name]? It can’t be just to tease me.”

[Name]’s expression changed for a moment, the playful smile softening. “Maybe I enjoy your company, Diluc. It’s refreshing to see someone so… genuine. No matter how grumpy they are.”

Diluc was silent for a few seconds, his red eyes fixed on the you. He sighed, as if admitting a silent defeat, and went back to work. "Do whatever you want. Just don't leave any more crumbs on my counter."

[Name] laughed, leaning forward to support him with her elbows. "I knew that deep down you like me, redhead. You just don't know how to admit it."

"In your dreams..." Diluc replied, but the corner of his mouth almost threatened to form a smile.

You're honestly annoying. But he likes you. But he doesn't admit it.

"You really don't talk much, do you?" [Name] commented, leaning forward a little. "But that's okay, I'm good enough for two." Your voice was filled with a confidence that didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm also the type who doesn't have the patience for a long silence. In my world, being the strongest is something that comes naturally. No one dares to doubt that, and I can assure you that my power is something... unquestionable."

“You talk too much.” Xiao finally replied, his voice low and somewhat harsh, as natural of his voice. “And yet… you have no idea what it means to truly carry the weight of eternity.” He pause. “I am a Yaksha, you know. We are more than just strength.”

"You have this aura of mystery, this... silence one. I'm very good at noticing details. And you, my friend, are full of them." You say, your tone naturally laden with arrogance, but Xiao sharpens his eyes.

"Very presumptuous for someone young." Xiao says, but shakes his head in the end.

It may not seem like it, but he is not bothered by your presence.

You tend to talk a lot, he honestly doesn't mind. It may seem like he's not listening, but he is.

He cares about you. Even though you keep saying that you are the strongest in your world. He wasn't around to see your displays of power, so he doesn't believe it.

He knows your arrogance will get you into trouble. That's why he's always around.

“Thoma, it’s been a while!” [Name] exclaimed with a wide smile, your eyes shining with amusement as you saw Thoma’s blond head in the distance at the shop where the Kamisato Clan’s caretaker was buying some items for the day.

Your voice echoed through the street, carrying an unmistakable confidence, as if you had just met an old friend after a long period of absence.

Thoma, who had been distracted by picking out some ingredients for dinner, looked up quickly, immediately recognizing [Name]’s presence. He smiled back, his expression friendly and relaxed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of humor.

“Oh, ah! [Name]!” he exclaimed, raising one of his hands in greeting. He took a step towards [Name], with his usual welcoming smile.

"How have you been, Thoma?" [Name] asked with a mischievous smile. "Continuing your mission to solve all the problems in Inazuma, as always?"

Thoma, for his part, chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly, his eyes shining with amusement. “I try. But what about you? How’s life in Teyvat? Still enjoying your… ‘games’?” Thoma’s tone was friendly, in no rush to get serious about any conversation, but it was also a bit teasing. He knew [Name] had a tendency to make fun of situations and people, though he could also tell that behind that arrogance was something else, something more human.

“Ah, you know… Life is much more interesting when you can joke around with others. I can’t help but be amused by the situations you and your Kamisato Clan get yourselves into.”

Thoma laughed, his smile now wider, he had grown accustomed to this dynamic of teasing and teasing between them. "I know, I know. But if you need help with any problems, you know where to find me."

"I know," [Name] replied, smile turning into a more relaxed expression, but still with a glint of mischief in the eyes. "I just hope you don't get into too much trouble with your duties. I don't want you to be too busy to help me when I need it."

You two act like you've known each other for ages. It honestly surprises everyone around.

Thoma cares about you just like Xiao does, but he personally believes that you are capable of handling yourself even without ever seeing your displays of power.

You've known each other for a long time. A really long time. Like, since birth.

Aether knows you like the back of his hand. Your family has always been rich and famous in the world you came from, your clan being the largest. Yet, you know the twins by literally sneaking them into your house.

"Come on, come up!" A child [Name] insists at the small window of your room. Aether was crouched on the lawn and whimpered.

"I can’t do it! It's too high!" Aether says.

"Ugh, you crybaby!" [Name] grumbles.

You then start to rummage through your room looking for something. You grab a stool, quickly climbing onto it and leaning against the window. "Give me your hand."

"U-Uhh, but what if I fall??" Aether says hesitantly.

"Hurry up!"

Even though he was scared, Aether closed his eyes tightly and grabbed [Name]'s hand.

"I won't let go. I'll never let go." [Name]'s words made Aether open his eyes, seeing those deep vibrant blue eyes, and a smile. Not malicious like usual, but honest. "See? You don't have to be afraid of anything."

You didn't really let go of him. You never let go of him.

And he couldn't be happier about it.

You two will find Lumine. And you all will go home, together.

“Tsk, this is ridiculous.” [Name]’s voice was cold, but filled with a quiet anger that made even Lumine feel uncomfortable.

You had always been the type of person to keep himself in control, but when your emotions boiled over, it was clear how unpredictable you could be. Lumine watched as your made impatient gestures, she can count on one hand the times she's seen you so upset.

“That fatui trash thinks he can mess with you? Good news, he CANNOT,” [Name] continued, voice a bit louder than usual, revealing a fierce anger that rarely displayed.

You was referring to Tartaglia, who had tried to approach Lumine with a sly smile, his intentions veiled, as always. Lumine didn’t respond right away.

She leaned forward a little, looking at him with a surprised expression.

“Why are you so upset about this?” she asked.

“Because no one has the right to treat you that way,” you said, still carrying an inner strength that could not be ignored. “I will not allow some piece of weak trash to think he can do whatever he wants.”

“You really need to stop getting so angry over that small thing.” Lumine says, but quickly shakes her head. "I can take care of myself, you know."

“I know you can defend yourself, Lumine, but sometimes the world needs to remember who’s really in control.” [Nome] spoke with renewed confidence, but this time it was more of a statement than a threat.

"You don't have to worry, [Name]. I can take care of myself." Lumine said in a soft but firm tone.

[Name] watched her for a moment, and for a brief second, the gaze softened. "I know, Lumine. I know." You finally murmured.

Like, yeah. No one messes with the ones you care about.