#words: 1186

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[atlasthegreatest]

Mine / Daniela Avanzini x Gender Neutral! Reader

Daniela had a habit of stealing her partners shirts, liking how big they looked on her. But when Y/n tried to steal one of their girlfriend shirt to get back at her, they didn’t knew how much it would affect her.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive. Possessive Daniela. Fluff. Established relationship.

Word count: 1186

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

It had become a running joke between Y/n and Daniela—how she had slowly, sneakily stolen nearly all of their comfiest oversized shirts.

It started with a faded band tee that mysteriously vanished one night and reappeared on her Instagram story two days later. Then it was Y/n’s university hoodie, favorite flannel, and even that sleep shirt they swore nobody else wanted. Daniela would just grin when confronted, swimming in fabric, sleeves drooping past her hands, and say, “What’s yours is mine, right?”

Y/n didn’t mind. If anything, it was kind of cute. Okay, really cute.

But today, they decided to get even.

The sun filtered in through the bedroom window as Y/n rifled through Daniela’s closet, finally pulling out a tight, cropped tee with a rhinestoned butterfly on the front. Y/n was not Daniela’s size—but that was the point. The shirt clung to their chest, their midriff fully exposed, and the sleeves barely reached their biceps. Y/n looked at themselves in the mirror, smirked, and called out: “Revenge is served.”

When Y/n stepped into the kitchen where Daniela was eating cereal at the counter, she choked.

“Is that my shirt?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Sure is,” they said smugly, spinning dramatically. “You’ve taken all my clothes. I figured I’d borrow one of yours.”

Daniela stood, mouth slightly open as she took Y/n in. Her expression shifted—first shocked, then amused, then… possessive.

“You’re not going outside like that,” she said flatly, stalking over.

Y/n blinked. “Why not? You go out in my clothes all the time.”

“Yeah, but your clothes don’t turn heads like this.” Her eyes raked over her partner before narrowing. “Absolutely not. Nope. Mine.”

Y/n grinned. “Getting jealous, Avanzini?”

The Latina woman crossed her arms and tilted her head, stepping into Y/n’s space with that smug smirk they knew too well. “Maybe. Maybe I don’t want people checking out my partner in my shirt looking like they just walked off a fashion thirst trap.”

Y/n leaned forward, brushing their nose against hers. “So what, I stay home?”

“No,” she said, curling a hand around Y/n’s waist. “You wear something less distracting. Or I’m not letting you out of the apartment. At least not until I’ve had my turn admiring.”

Y/n laughed as she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to their cheek. Then another, just under their jaw.

Y/n may not have won the shirt war—but judging by Daniela’s flustered glare and tight grip on their hips, they won something.

Daniela wasn’t playing around.

Y/n tried slipping past her, still in the too-tight butterfly crop top, but her reflexes kicked in. One second they were reaching for their keys, the next the Latina had one arm around their waist and the other tugging down the hem of the shirt as if that would somehow make it less revealing.

“Daniela,” Y/n laughed, trying not to trip over the woman as she herded them away from the door like a flustered sheepdog. “It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, it’s serious,” she said. “There’s a breeze out there. You’re going to catch a cold. Or worse, attention.”

“I always catch attention with you around,” Y/n teased, giving her a wink. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

The Latina woman narrowed her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not jealous,” she insisted, even as she fumbled to hand Y/n one of their shirts from the laundry basket. “I’m… territorial.”

Y/n snorted. “Right. And this shirt is your territory?”

“No,” Daniela said, pulling them closer by the waistband of the tiny crop top. “You are.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by a quiet warmth between the two of them. Daniela’s fingers brushed their side gently. “You look hot,” she admitted, soft now, lips brushing their temple. “Too hot. I don’t want to have to fight people at brunch.”

Y/n leaned into her, their forehead resting against hers. “So I change?”

Daniela shrugged, still close. “Or we stay in.”

Y/n laughed, pushing her lightly. “You’re the worst.”

“But I’m yours,” she said with a grin, walking off with Y/n’s keys in one hand and their pride in the other.

And when Y/n finally gave in and changed, Daniela wore that tiny butterfly shirt around the apartment the rest of the day just to rub it in—looking unfairly good, humming to herself, and reminding them again and again that two could play the possessive game.

Y/n just wasn't sure if they wanted to anymore… because she always won.

Bonus Chapter:

Later that evening, with a takeout order half-eaten on the kitchen counter and music playing softly from their shared speaker, Y/n found Daniela curled up on the couch—still wearing their hoodie and her victorious butterfly crop top underneath, peeking out when she stretched.

Y/n walked in holding two mugs of tea, watching her flick through a playlist, her curls messy and her makeup long worn off. The tension from earlier—the playful tug-of-war, the jealous teasing—had melted into something quieter. Something that hummed under their skin.

“Okay, fine,” Y/n said, handing her a mug, “you win the shirt war.”

Daniela smirked. “Obviously.”

Y/n slid in next to her, wrapping an arm lazily around her shoulder as she leaned in, resting her cheek against them. For a while, it was just the soft clink of mugs, her humming faintly to an SZA song, and their hand tracing the curve of her shoulder over the fabric that used to be theirs.

“I liked seeing you in it,” Daniela said quietly, not looking at them. “Too much, probably. That’s why I freaked out.”

Y/n tilted their head toward her. “Too much?”

Daniela looked up at them, eyes tired but soft. “I know I joke about being possessive, but… when I saw you like that, wearing my stuff, looking like—” she laughed breathily, shaking her head, “—like you, it kind of hit me. How stupid in love I am.”

Y/n’s heart thudded.

“And also,” she added with a grin, “I didn’t want to spend the whole day glaring at people staring at you.”

“So the solution,” Y/n said, setting down their mug, “is to keep me indoors?”

“Exactly,” Daniela said, looping her arms around Y/n’s neck and pulling them in.

Y/n’s lips met hers like muscle memory—soft, warm, certain. One kiss turned into two. Then three. Soon, the hoodie and butterfly shirt were somewhere on the floor, replaced by her laughter against Y/n’s skin and their hands gently tracing the path of her ribs.

Time slowed in the amber light of their apartment. No teasing, no games—just warmth, whispers, and the hush of love that had long since stopped being casual. When they pulled the blanket around both of them later, tangled and flushed, Daniela whispered, “Don’t think this means I won’t steal your shirts again.”

Y/n grinned, brushing her curls back. “You can have them. Just don’t be surprised if I keep the next one you leave behind.”

Daniela kissed their collarbone. “Deal.”

And in the quiet afterward, she fell asleep with her hand on Y/n’s chest, her shirt long forgotten, and her heart laid bare.

[egypt-museum]

Detail of Ramesses girdle which is woven from linen and decorated with rows of ankh signs, a hieroglyph used to write the word for ‘life’.

New Kingdom, 20th Dynasty, ca. 1186-1155 BC. Now in the World Museum, Liverpool. M11156

Read more

[andy-15-07]

A Thanksgiving to Remember

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1186| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The aroma of roasting turkey, sage, and cinnamon hung heavy in the air, a comforting blanket woven with the promise of Thanksgiving. Y/N, perched precariously on a kitchen stool, stretched to reach the top shelf of the pantry. “Do we have enough dried cranberries?” she called down to Pedro, who was wrestling a particularly stubborn butternut squash on the counter.

“I think so,” Pedro grunted, finally managing to halve the squash with a satisfying thwack. “But maybe grab another bag just in case. You know how my family is about their cranberry sauce.”

Y/N chuckled, grabbing a step stool and peering into the depths of the pantry. “Tell me about it. Remember last year when Aunt Maria almost started a brawl over the last spoonful?”

Pedro grinned, the memory clearly amusing him. “Oh, she’s a force of nature. But her cranberry sauce is legendary, I’ll give her that.”

Y/N found the cranberries and hopped down, placing the bag on the counter. “Right, cranberries secured. What’s next on the culinary agenda?”

“Mashed potatoes,” Pedro declared, brandishing the now-halved squash like a trophy. “And you know my rule – no lumps allowed.”

“Your rules are legendary too,” Y/N teased, bumping his shoulder playfully. “But I have to admit, your mashed potatoes are pretty spectacular.”

“Years of practice,” Pedro said with a wink. “Now, are you peeling or mashing?”

“Peeling,” Y/N replied, grabbing a peeler and a bowl of potatoes. “But you’re on gravy duty. Your mom’s recipe is a closely guarded secret, and I’m not about to mess with tradition.”

“Deal,” Pedro said, already gathering the ingredients for the gravy. “But you’re in charge of the stuffing. I still haven’t forgiven you for that oyster incident a few years back.”

Y/N shuddered dramatically. “Let’s never speak of that again. This year, it’s a purely vegetarian affair. No surprises.”

The kitchen filled with the comfortable rhythm of chopping, stirring, and the gentle hum of conversation. They worked side-by-side, a well-oiled machine honed by years of shared Thanksgivings.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, “are you excited for everyone to get here?”

Pedro paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Of course. It’s always chaos, but it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it. Although,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I’m a little worried about Uncle Carlos and his political opinions. He and your dad are going to clash again, I just know it.”

Y/N sighed. “Tell me about it. I’ve already warned Dad, but you know how he is. He can’t resist a good debate.”

“Which usually ends with everyone shouting and someone storming off to the living room,” Pedro finished. “Ah, family.”

“The best kind of chaos,” Y/N said, smiling. “But seriously, I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“Me too,” Pedro agreed. “It’s nice to have everyone under one roof, even if it’s just for a few days.”

They continued working, the conversation flowing easily between them. They talked about their families, their work, their plans for the future. They laughed, they teased, they shared quiet moments of comfortable silence.

As the afternoon wore on, the kitchen transformed into a symphony of delicious smells. The turkey was browning beautifully in the oven, the mashed potatoes were creamy and smooth, the stuffing was fragrant with herbs and vegetables, and the gravy was rich and velvety.

“Okay,” Pedro said, wiping his hands on his apron, “I think we’re almost ready. Just need to set the table.”

Y/N nodded, grabbing the tablecloth and heading towards the dining room. Pedro followed close behind, carrying a stack of plates.

They worked together, quickly transforming the dining room into a festive space. The table was set with their best china, gleaming silverware, and colorful napkins. A vase of vibrant fall flowers sat in the center, adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

“Looks beautiful,” Y/N said, admiring their handiwork.

“Indeed,” Pedro agreed. “Now, all we need are the guests.”

Just as he finished speaking, the doorbell rang.

“They’re here!” Y/N exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Pedro grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Let the chaos begin.”

The house quickly filled with the sounds of laughter, greetings, and the clatter of suitcases being dragged through the hallway. The aroma of Thanksgiving dinner mingled with the scent of perfume and cologne, creating a heady mix that was both familiar and comforting.

Family members arrived from near and far, each one bringing their own unique energy to the gathering. Aunt Maria, true to form, immediately took charge of the kitchen, offering unsolicited advice on the gravy. Uncle Carlos, as predicted, cornered Y/N’s dad in the living room, their voices rising in the heat of political debate. The children, fueled by sugar and excitement, raced through the house, their shrieks of laughter echoing through the halls.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Pedro and Y/N moved through the crowd, greeting their guests, offering drinks, and making sure everyone felt welcome. They were the anchors of the family, the glue that held everyone together.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dining room, everyone gathered around the table. The turkey, golden brown and glistening, took center stage, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and all the other traditional Thanksgiving dishes.

Pedro stood at the head of the table, carving the turkey with practiced ease. Y/N sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

“To family,” Pedro said, raising his glass.

“To family,” everyone echoed, their voices filled with warmth and gratitude.

The meal began, a symphony of happy chatter, shared stories, and the clinking of glasses. Even Uncle Carlos and Y/N’s dad seemed to have reached a truce, their political debate temporarily forgotten in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed and intimate. The children, their energy finally waning, curled up on the couches, falling asleep amidst the soft murmur of adult conversation.

Pedro and Y/N found a quiet moment to slip away from the crowd, retreating to the porch to enjoy a breath of fresh air.

“It’s perfect,” Y/N said, leaning her head against Pedro’s shoulder.

“It is,” Pedro agreed, wrapping his arms around her. “Just like every year.”

They stood in comfortable silence, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the house, a comforting reminder of the love and connection that bound them all together.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, turning to face Pedro.

“For what?” he asked, his eyes filled with love.

“For everything,” she replied. “For this, for us, for family.”

Pedro smiled, gently cupping her face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

They shared a long, tender kiss, a silent promise of their love and commitment to each other. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of family and the magic of Thanksgiving, they knew that they had everything they could ever need. They had each other.

[woncheolisms]

kinktober 2023 -> day 28

double penetration - kita shinsuke x reader x miya osamu

word count: 1186

warnings: smut, swearing, kita and reader are in an established relationship, fluff towards the end

kinktober masterlist

You liked to believe you knew your boyfriend, Kita Shinsuke, pretty well.

You had met as mere kids in diapers. You had grown up with him. You knew of his careful routine, his vigilant schedule. You knew how caring he was, how wonderfully attentive. His love for his profession, hours and hours put into his precious fields, to earn a living for himself and you, his loving, doting housewife. All of these qualities, and more, were what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Kita would ever suggest something like this.

You stared into his burning gold eyes with tears in your own, mouth dropped open, struggling to breathe. He reached for your face, careful thumb brushing over your wet cheek. You inhaled deeply as your body was jostled forward again, your stare with Kita breaking as your eyes squeezed shut and a low groan sounded from behind you.

“Go slow, Osamu.” You heard Kita say. “She’s hurtin’.”

A huff from the man in question. “I thought ya said ya prepped her for this.”

“Apparently not enough.” Came the reply.

It took another few minutes before Osamu was fully buried inside you, both men finally filling you up to the hilt. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shaky and broken.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You heard your husband’s voice, gentle and doting in your ear. You felt his hand run through your hair where your head rested against his shoulder, trying with everything in you to undo how tense your muscles were. You weren’t used to this. You and Kita enjoyed a very vanilla sex life. It wasn’t even until one month ago that Kita had started playing with your ass, experimenting by prodding it, then entering, fingering, fucking.

You had loved it.

“Shinsuke,” you lifted yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on Kita’s chest. You felt your back brush against Osamu’s front, felt his breath hit the back of your neck as your movement caused both men to shift inside you.

“You okay, baby?” Kita intertwined the fingers of his right hand with your left, the other running slowly down your side for comfort.

You nodded. “Feels- feels good.”

Kita’s lips turned up slightly in a smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Kita shifted his hips then, just enough to change the angle of his cock in your pussy, causing you to whine. Behind you, Osamu groaned.

“Don’t do that, Kita-san.” His voice was so strained it caused worry to stir in your chest. “She’s clenchin’ round me so tight. I’ll cum too quick.”

Your cheeks burned at how crude he sounded, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so preoccupied with how stuffed you were. Growing up with Kita meant growing up with Osamu too. He was your friend. And now here he was, buried balls deep in your asshole.

“Move, Osamu.” Kita finally said, before holding your hips tight with both hands, planting his feet steadily on the bed, and thrusting up into you.

You cried out and Osamu groaned, immediately following suit. You felt the breath get knocked out of you, eyes rolling up as both men began moving in earnest.

The sounds filling the air were nothing short of filthy, wet squelching that caused your body to heat up in embarrassment, yet somehow made you even more horny. God, you had never felt like this before. Never for one second were you left empty. If Kita pulled out, Osamu thrusted back in, and when Osamu left you, Kita filled you up. You couldn’t breathe with how shot every nerve in your body was, eyes crossing when Kita quickly found your sweet spot, making you yelp and arch back, once again making soft contact with the sturdy torso behind you.

Osamu’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against his chest. His teeth grazed the side of your neck before leaving a tiny bite on the skin.

“Watch it,” Kita choked out. “No marks.”

Osamu’s lips replaced his teeth then, moving up to nibble at your earlobe. Throughout all of it, neither men even slowed their pace. You felt your body jerk and jolt, manhandled by these two men as they used you for their pleasure. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“F-fuck.” Osamu groaned into your ear. “F-feels so good, Y/N-san. Yer tight as anythin’.”

The undulating of three bodies felt heavenly. Touches felt on every part of you at any given time. Your holes ached, as if protesting the intrusion, the carving of big cocks inside your tight insides. Kita’s hands ran over your thighs, soothing any ache that formed with your position, while Osamu’s big hand ran over your front, groping and squeezing your breast with eager motions. Kita’s noises were low and consistent, small groans leaving his lips every few seconds. Osamu was louder, whining and cursing in your ear as if he was losing his virginity all over again.

You were so turned on you couldn't think straight.

You felt a familiar thumb find your clit, clenching hard when Kita started working it in tight, hard circles. You wailed at the feeling, almost trying to push away from it. It was too much. It was all so overwhelming-

“I’m gonna cum,” you weeped, eyes catching your husband’s while your nails dug into the arm Osamu had wrapped around you. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby.” He replied, tugging you down onto his body again and holding your hips still as both him and Osamu picked up the pace. You screamed and cried as your orgasm hit you full force, briefly whiting out your vision and making your body twitch and jerk all over. You heard Osamu moan, low and loud, before he buried himself in you to the hilt and warmth spread inside you. Kita was next, thrusting a few more times before he came as well, groaning and huffing in your ear.

You fell limp onto Kita, wincing when Osamu slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down to where you and Kita were still joined. Kita made no move to do the same. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, turning you both to your sides.

You heard Osamu mumble something about a shower before pattering out of the room, leaving you in the warmth of your husband’s arms. You let your eyes fall shut.

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded, hugging him tighter. You felt him lay a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I take it that you’ll wanna do that again?”

You giggled and looked up at him, grinning sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”

He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it off your forehead. “You shoulda’ seen yerself, baby. Pretty little thing, moanin’ and cryin’ on our cocks. Ya looked like ya were gonna pass out.”

You groaned and buried your head into his chest again, feeling it vibrate with his laugh. A smile tugged at your lips when you heard the shower turn on in the next room.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats s @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[madhattervanessa]

Chance

Summary: How did these two even meet? Well, it all started in a coffee shop.

Warnings: look, they are weird and they flirt weird but it works for them

Words: 1186

A/N: I typed all of this in like barely 2 hours bc I was posessed by the idea of these guys and I missed them so this is what you get instead of the next thing in the series lmao

Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

next Part

-

“I’ll have your coffee done in a minute, go on and get dressed.”

“Thanks, Trish.”

“Oh and don’t forget to put up your flyers before you leave!” You smile nervously and wave back at your colleague behind the counter as you shoulder your bag. 

After putting some of your smaller flyers down on the counter for customers to see, you turn towards the windows with one of your posters. After putting one up to face the outside, you take another poster and turn it to face towards the inside of the café. As you tape it to the glass, the door opens and closes.

You briefly hear Trish greet the customer as you tape that last corner down.

You feel like you’re being watched.

When you turn to leave, a giant, hulking man is blocking your way, dark gaze staring at the flyer you had just stuck onto the window.

“Oh-!”

You furrow your brows as your eyes do a quick flick between his eyes, to his face mask, back up, then over his body.

“Uhm.” You turn your head sideways a little, half expecting another harrowing experience with a guy from the nearby military base.

When his eyes finally meet yours, the intense gaze makes your breath stutter.

“Do you do the veteran evenings-”

“What the fuck is your problem-”

You both shut up and you feel your cheeks heat in both irritation and embarrassment.

And then his eyes soften. 

“I’m sorry,” you both say, in unison again, and you feel yourself flush, this time. He has a nice, deep voice that cracks a little as he speaks, as if he had been yelling all night. Or drinking. That thought efficiently leads your train of thought away from developing any kind of positive feelings, too fast, for a man you do not know.

So you just stare at him, as he stares right back at you.

“You a veteran, then?”

You nod and steal a look over towards the counter where Trish is currently talking to another customer. She glances your way.

“I really have to get going.”

“Alright.”

He doesn’t move and you huff before you move past him, not bothering to tuck your elbows in so as to not nudge against him.

As you leave, you swear you can feel him looking at you, but when you try to catch him, he is currently making Trisha smile at the counter.

-

He’s back just two days later, infuriatingly towering over the counter in front of you, just minutes after you’ve opened the café.

“Hi.”

You just blink at him.

“What can I get you?”

He doesn’t look at the menu behind your head, just holds your stare.

“Two black coffees, one oat milk latte and a cappuccino. All large. To go.”

His voice sounds a little softer today. Like a warm, gruff hug. 

You type in his order.

“That’s 11.20£.” 

He puts the change you give him back straight into the tip jar and you give him another glance before you go on to start working on his order.

As you look up while steaming the milk, you catch him typing away at a phone that looks tiny in his large hands.

He wears gloves but you can see the hint of old tattoos peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his thick hoodie.

Before you can go down the rabbit hole of admiring the tanned skin of his wrist or his thick arms, you turn your gaze back to the task at hand.

You assemble the drinks quickly, already putting yourself in the mindset of the inevitable rush that would be running through the door in about half an hour.

When you glance up at him again, he is watching you, again.

You find yourself noticing the blonde lashes framing the dark brown of his eyes and smiling back up at him.

You cringe and grind your teeth as you put the coffee cups into the cardboard holder.

“D’you want some chocolate coffee beans or biscuits?”

“Little of both.”

You put them into the divots of the cups’ tops, before gently pushing the cupholder towards him.

“Here you go. Have a great day.”

“You too.”

-

“What the fuck.”

Coffee-Guy just keeps loading the washer as you gape at him, your own basket still pressed against your hip.

When he is done, he finally gets up and meets your eye.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t really ‘ave the time to bother, love.”

He almost sounds like he is smiling underneath the black mask he wears.

You glare at him and pointedly start loading up the washing machine furthest away from him.

When he speaks again, you are convinced he is on the phone with someone.

“How was your day?”

You scowl into the wide maw of the washing machine as you stuff the last of your clothes inside.

“Hey.”

You can feel your ears perk and you turn, the tone of voice activating something slumbering inside of you, commanding you to look at him.

“What?”

He is leaning against the machine he had loaded up.

“I was talking to you.”

You blink and rub the back of your neck before you close the door of the washing machine and turn towards him.

“Uhm. My day ways…good. I guess.” He hums in acknowledgement. You clear your throat. “I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“Not around much with deployment ‘n all.”

“I see.” 

He fidgets with the stickers on top of the washing machines. You pour some detergent into the washing machine and put some coins into the machine to be able to start washing.

“I like your shirt.”

You look down and frown. You’re just wearing a plain black shirt and as you look up, you catch the quirk of his brow, as if he is waiting for you to catch on to a silly joke.

“I bet, this stuff is really your style. Just your color, as well.”

He huffs out a chuckle. You smile, despite yourself, and push the Start button on the machine.

“Yeah, exactly. Looks good on you, too.”

You collect your basket again and prop it up against your hip again.

“I know.” You take another calculating look at him. “What’s your name?”

“Simon.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Simon. You better not be stealing any of my clothes. I count my panties.”

“Understood, Ma’am.”

-

It’s 5 am when you step outside of your apartment.

Just like clockwork, a minute later, your neighbor’s apartment door opens and he steps outside. Except, this time, instead of walking right past you, he stops just in view as turn your keys in your front door lock.

“Can I walk you to work?”

“I’m just getting coffee.”

He hums but doesn’t walk away.

“Can I walk you there and buy your coffee for you, then?”

You finally turn and let your keys fall into your tote bag.

“Fine.”

You meet his eyes.

“No funny business. Just coffee.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It escalates to a ritual after a week.

After being gone for two months, he returns and takes you out for brunch.

-

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open and always appreciated

[runnning-outof-time]

K, congrats on 3.5K and I was wondering if you can make something about “Why’re you looking at me?” and it’s Tommy or John having a crush? AAAAAAA

Thanks for sending this in, E!! @writers-hes I’m sorry it took me so long to write!! I just had to go with Tommy for it because (if you haven’t noticed already) he’s my fave to write for! The thought of this made my giddy haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Strictly Business

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smoking, drinking

Word Count: 1186

Summary: When a business associate doesn’t show, Tommy and (Y/N) make the most of a dinner…and try their best to keep their true feelings under wraps.

“Do you really need me here?” (Y/N) asked for the umpteenth time as she sat down across from Tommy at the table they’d been led to. She didn’t expect to be dining at some posh establishment today, but for Tommy Shelby, she’d drop her plans and do just about anything if he asked it of her.

Yeah…not the best mindset logistically thinking, but what can she say…she was smitten with him. Problem was that he hardly gave her the time of day with it came to that. Strictly business. That’s what they agreed on.

“I do,” Tommy nodded, fishing a cigarette out of its packet so that he could perch it between his lips and strike a match to light it. He cleared his throat then as he crossed his one leg over the other and sat back, looking around for the person he’d be meeting.

“Guess that’s that then,” (Y/N) commented, more so to herself than anything, as she grabbed the napkin and draped it over her lap. She then began to peruse the menu because hey, if she was going to have to be in this fancy establishment, she was going to sample their wares.

The waiter came over to their table moments later and (Y/N) took her time to chat with him, asking him what he recommended, what was popular, and what would pair well together. She must’ve took around ten minutes trying to figure out the dish she wanted to order. Once she did, the man turned to Tommy. He kept it simple, ordering a whiskey.

“You’re really not ordering anything?” (Y/N) asked him after the man left.

“I figured that if I got hungry, I’d take something from your plate,” he answered honestly, a grin teetering on his lips.

“Bold of you to assume anything will be left,” she countered, her grin matching his.

Tommy just pursed his lips at her statement, trying to stop his grin from growing bigger than it already was. He then accepted the whiskey from the waiter and brought it to his lips, thankful he had it to hide what he was really feeling. Strictly business.

Time passed as the two waited for the business associate to show up. Nothing much was said, but nothing really needed to be said. Tommy and (Y/N) had become accustomed to sitting in silence, and more often then not, they found it peaceful. It was comforting in a way.

About a half hour had passed now, and there was still no appearance of said business associate.

“Is this man coming?” (Y/N) questioned, her brows furrowed.

“He said he would be,” Tommy dismissed her question, sipping on his third whiskey. The fact that he was sat here instead of out making sure everything else was running properly kind of irked him. The only reason he wasn’t marking it as a complete bust was the fact that (Y/N) was there.

“At least we get a meal out of it,” she commented as the waiter brought her dinner out. She smiled up at him as a thank you before surveying the delicious plate of food that was placed in front of her. A wider smile grew on her lips as she looked back to Tommy. “Well…at least I got a meal out of it.” She couldn’t help but correct herself, her teasing statement making Tommy roll his eyes at he fought his grin back.

(Y/N) dug into her dinner, making sure to make an exaggerated comment about how absolutely delicious the food she chose was. She was enjoying her dinner so much that she momentarily forgot he was even there with her.

Which is why when she looked up to see his eyes focused on her with the slightest smile dancing on his lips, she thought her heart was about to jump out of her body. She’d never seen Tommy look at her in that way. It was almost as if his eyes were twinkling, the shade of blue present in them just about making her breathless.

“Why’re you looking at me?” she broke the silence. While she didn’t want to ruin the reverie that had been created the second their eyes met, she had to say something or else she might have combusted on the spot.

“Hmm?” he simply hummed, and (Y/N) wanted to groan. He’s purposefully making this hard on me.

“Why’re you looking at me like that…like you just were a few seconds ago?” she repeated her question.

“What was I looking at you like?” he asked, his brows now raised.

“Don’t make this tough for me, Tommy,” she huffed, her heart going at about a mile a minute. His expression didn’t change. (Y/N) huffed again. He’s really gonna have me spell it out to him. “You were looking at me like…I don’t know, like you were dreaming or something,” she tried her best to explain it.

“I wasn’t dreamin’,” he shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Well you looked like it,” she shot back, sending him a glare that a smile was trying so hard to break through. Tommy lazily shrugged off the conversation, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. (Y/N) shrugged also, focusing - well trying to focus - on her meal once more.

“I was watchin’ you,” he stated after a few minutes had passed.

“Oh yeah?” (Y/N)’s eyes shot up to match his once more.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out slowly before continuing, “I enjoy watching you. Brings some quiet to me mind.”

“Oh yeah?” she answered with the same question she asked before, although her voice was softer this time around.

“Yeah,” he nodded again, leaving it at that, even though he wanted to say so much more to her. He wanted to tell her just how much she had helped him since he met her. Tell her how he couldn’t get her off of his mind, even if he tried. Strictly business.

The conversation ended there, and (Y/N) tried her best to focus back on the meal in front of her. Something was burning in her mind though, something that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.

“Tommy…?” she spoke again after a few more minutes had passed.

“Yeah?” his eyes were on her in a second. They never really left.

“There was never someone coming to this dinner, was there?” she just had to ask him.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he answered with a vague statement, although his eyes told her a different story. See what Tommy didn’t know was that (Y/N) had gotten pretty good at reading his eyes. She’d never call him out on the truths he brushed over though.

Instead she pursed her lips to hide her smile. “Strictly business?” she checked with him after a few beats of silence.

“Strictly business,” he answered with a nod, ending the conversation there. His answer was short and succinct, but his eyes told her differently.

*tags in reblogs so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ROLES REVERSED.

tangerine x fem!reader — fluff/ comfort

summary. as the eldest daughter, you’re used to taking care of others. tangerine notices, and wants to be the one to care of you.

requested by @sdddoobydoobydoo here <3

word count. 1186

warnings. couple blood mentions. no established relationship

As the eldest daughter, you're naturally gifted with traits that stem from your role as the second parent: the ability to help and care and nurture and understand and peacekeep in ways most will never.

You appreciated your broad span of empathy, loving how easily and seamlessly you could help others. But it was tiring, and yet, it all you've ever known.

It was normal for you to sit on the back burner when it came to getting care, always being the one to give and never receive. It was why Tangerine took your interest more than any other guy before.

It was like all he wanted was to tend to you, love and care for you - do things for you. Something about him was so unlike the other men in your life; they'd let you exhaust yourself for them, let you work yourself silly, but that was not Tangerine. That's not the man he is.

He noticed how you seemingly always knew what to do, all this infinite wisdom and knowledge swirling inside your poor, tired mind. Anytime he was snappy, you'd assume he was hungry - heading into the kitchen to whip something up for him, or if you were public, always offering to buy him lunch. Anytime he stopped past yours, all battered and bruised, you'd fetch things from around your house to patch him up - wanting to mend him as fast as possible. Anytime he had that distant look in his eyes, you'd always sit him down - suggesting that he talk his problems over with you.

You always seemed to know what he needed - what anyone needed. And while he appreciated your simple, loving and, albeit, persistent gestures, he knew you needed the same treatment. Maybe even, more so.

He wanted to give you that care you give to everyone else, though he didn't want to step over the romance line. Well not yet, anyway.

Tangerine was over yours for the evening, the casual hangout designed for dinner. He had previously made you promise to keep it small, to not go overboard with the food. Though, when you started cooking the meals, you could not seem to stop - all the prior dishes making you question if it would be something he even liked at all. So, in your mind, preparing four different meals to choose from would be a safe bet.

"Sit down, would'ya? Stop faffing," Tangerine calls out to you in the kitchen, his arse parked on a dining seat you had previously directed him to.

"I'll be five minutes, ten max— shit... think we're looking at fifteen."

"You gonna let me help you?" he questions, getting ansty from his unhelpful sitting. He wanted you to let him help. "Give me something to do."

"Got it all covered," you call out, poking your head through the door to see him. You were frazzled, and you took on more than you could handle.

His head tilts softly, a faint tut of his mouth letting you know he didn't buy your lies. "Oh yeah?" he entertains your fib, eyes playful. "What was that all that swearing for then?"

You look down at your bleeding finger and subtly move to hide it - putting it out of Tan's view. "Dropped my teatowel," you shrug. "Pasta is almost cooked— so uh, that's good. Okay, then. Just pick at the bread there. Will be done soon."

You head over to one of your cupboards and search for something to stop the bleeding, a plaster hopefully. But all you can find is a lonely, crumpled-up one in the crack —all your others going to Tangerine's cuts and scrapes— and you sigh. Picking it up, you attempt to unwrap it, but your bloodied finger makes you lose your grip.

"You alright?" Tangerine asks, his stealth-like walk peeking up on you from behind. "What you doing?"

"Yeah," you hum, looking at him over your shoulder. "Just waiting for this water to boil," you partially lie, nodding to the pot on the stovetop.

"You're a shit liar," he scoffs in his usual way, walking to get closer to you. "What have you done?" he asks, voice reaching a pitch that can only indicate worry, his eyes glued to your finger.

"It's just a cut. It's fine— it'll stop in a minute," you deflect, acting casual as you fiddle with the wrapper, still trying to open it.

He shakes his head and inhales harshly, reaching for the plaster in your hand.

You protest, tightening your grip. "It's alright, I got it."

He shakes his head again, clearly displeased. He loosely holds under your hand, guiding you towards the sink, where he directs it under the water - trying to stop the bleeding quicker.

"Seriously, it's okay. I'll put—"

"Just," he interrupts, tone pointed, though it holds no malice. "Let me help you for chrissake."

You close your mouth with a snap, his comment halting any further dismissals.

He holds your finger under the warm, flowing tap, watching the water turn slowly from a soft orange and back to clear. He's quiet, silently taking care of you in the ways he's almost longed for. The moment when you finally allow his help - all of it feeling like a small step forward.

He reaches for a piece of kitchen paper and wraps it around your finger, drying it with his gaze focused down.

"Why won't you let me help you?" he asks quietly, his question cutting through the comfortable silence. It sounded like it was weighing heavy on his mind.

"What do you mean?" you question, unsure what he meant.

He glances up to look at you, head cocking to the side. "Come on," he chuckles faintly. "You know what I mean."

"I do let you help."

He's amused, or so you think. He was too hard to read. "Hardly… I want to do things for you. I want to help you. Why won't you let me?"

You pull your hand away and hold the paper compress by yourself - feeling embarrassed from his mild ridicule. "I always have it covered, that's all," you shrug. "I don't need help."

He could tell you were shutting yourself off, though he's adamant not to let that happen. "I ain't gonna disappoint you, you know that?" he says, words firm, but they were filled with something far softer: unexpressed, repressed love. "You look after everyone else... I want to look after you."

A soft frown-like smile lines your lips, and you finally look up to meet his eyes. He really meant it.

"Just give me a piece of cucumber to cut or a towel to fold— something," he attempts a joke - trying to lighten the mood. "Just let me be useful to you, yeah? Let me in."

You nod, even more progress.

"Good," he nods back, a faint grin spreading across his face. He reaches for the plaster, opening it as if it were nothing and grabs your hand - carefully holding your finger. "Now let's cover this fucker up before it gets all over your pretty top, hm?"

so independent reader coded

[noctunis]

This is a stupid request so iUEOE IF U DONT LIKE IT ITS FINE but . A cloud x reader where Cloud, even after months from the start of their relationship, keeps getting a bit flustered, all blushy, whenever he gets kissed? ITS STUPID ITS LILE. IT COULD BE A DRABBLE TBH CAUSE ITS YEAH. BUT YEAH . Sow wy.

red kisses 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

cloud strife x fem!reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

ughhh this request was so cute!! i made it into a fic instead because i just had some ideas :) hope you guys enjoy 💕!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kissing, cloud gets flustered, intended lowercase, tifa teasing cloud for having a big fat crush on you, reader is referred to as clouds girlfriend, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1186 words, 6519 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“shit!” you yelled, ducking under the rapid gunfire on the shinra infantryman. your hand reached for your sword before a gloved hand came to stop you. eyebrows furrowed, you looked back at cloud who just shook his head before pulling out his buster sword and stepping out into the gunfire, using his weapon as a shield from the bullets as they ricocheted off the metal.

you watched in awe as he cleared out the group. you knew he was always good at his job but seeing him in action never failed to make your jaw drop.

“hey, you comin’ or not?” he called out for you, his extended leather clad hand beckoned you after the coast was clear while numerous infantrymen laid on the ground unconscious below him. snapping out of your thoughts, you peeked your head out from behind the storage container and jogged your way towards him, beaming.

“my hero.” you extolled, leaning closer to lay a quick chaste kiss on cloud’s cheek before skipping over towards a metal door, eager to continue your mission. he made a noise of surprise, hand ghosting over where your lips had touched his face as a shade of pink tinted his freckled skin. his eyes followed your footsteps as he turned around and caught up with you, quickly following behind just in case you were caught off guard. you couldn’t help but smile as you heard him pitter-patter after you.

you definitely noticed the faint blush on his cheeks when he returned, and thus began your journey to flush cloud whenever given the chance to.

more time had passed, and cloud had actually gotten to know you. even if you never let him forget that one instance on the mission to the mako reactor.

and here cloud sat— in a bar stool at seventh heaven drinking the strongest of whatever tifa’s got while she talked about the newest mission avalanche was planning. she cut herself off mid-sentence, noticing how cloud continued to swirl his drink around while his eyes stayed glued to the ripples created in the glass, mind clearly elsewhere.

she put her arms behind her back as she leaned forward and tried to get his attention. “cloud?” she called, causing his eyes to peer back up at her. he made a small ‘hm’ sound in response.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” she asked, inquisitive smile still painted on her face as usual. resting her arms on the wooden bar countertop, she watched as cloud contemplated to say what was really on his mind right now. he exhaled through his nostrils as he took another sip of the red liquid in his glass, “nothing.”

tifa’s brows raised as she finally understood. “so,” she began, “thinkin’ about your girlfriend, huh?”

“what makes you say that?”

“every time she’s around you, i never hear any of that ‘hard-ass’ complaining you’re always doing, as wedge would call it.” she grins, now knowing she hit the head right on the nail. “it’s like she placates you.”

“‘m just tired, that’s all.” he huffed, throwing his head back and downing the liquid as a weak attempt to try and hide the growing blush that grew across his face.

tifa simply laughed, standing up straight and greeting marlene as she walked in through the double doors with her dad, squealing about whatever new things she found today. always so excited to explore even in the slums of midgar. he placed a few coins on the bar counter as a payment for the drink, walking out of the bar and praying that tifa didn’t notice the money on the counter in hopes that she wouldn’t try and sneak it in his room like last time.

as for your new “mission” of trying to fluster cloud, it grew harder for him to ignore as everyday you’d press a kiss to his jaw or his hand or even the tip on his nose. he started to take his behavior into consideration after what tifa said. did he really act all that different around you?

your goal started making more progress as time went on and your relationship got more serious. often, your invites to your place ended up just being a torture chamber for him as you had managed to root yourself deep within his brain. he couldn’t get you out, and although he acted like he didn’t care, it haunted him. you were everywhere around him. but maybe, he thought, just maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get close to someone.

he’d look at marlene and his mind would think back to you. the way you’d sit with her and talk to her about her weird dreams where she’d become a dolphin or something like that. barret would throw a glare at him and all cloud could think about was how you mentioned how barret scares the absolute shit out of you. you were everywhere, your presence, your perfume, your—

“hellooo—?” earth to cloud?” your hand came into view, once again snapping cloud out of his thoughts. he hummed.

“space out there?” you smiled at him, and ugh, that smile. it made him feel obnoxiously warm. he never got used to those butterflies that would travel along his stomach, even if you guys had been together for a while.

he huffed as he looked away, lolling his against the soft pillows you had on your bed. “yeah, uh.. yeah.” he finally said, eyes trailing off as he narrowed his eyes at shinra’s public service announcement that broadcasted on tv. cloud let out quiet groan at the man’s face and turned it off, the remote dropping from his hand and onto the blanket as he turned back to you.

“you always seem to glow, cloud. did you know that?” you blurt out, finger tracing the taut muscles of his arm.

“well.. maybe it’s just because of the mako—? SOLDIER, remember?”

“no, not like that,” you giggle behind your hand, “i’m just saying i think you’re handsome, cloud.” that makes him let out a small noise of surprise, stiffening as he’s unsure what to say next.

“oh.” he said, ears heating up as he looked away from your intense gaze. he crossed his arms, trying to avoid the way your head craned to try and see his face.

“and you’re so fit,” you lifted a finger up with each compliment you listed, just trying to get a rise out of cloud, “and intelligent, and sweet, and—“

“okay, i think that’s enough.” he must’ve been flushed right now, he though.

“and you’re just so breathtaking.”

“you are such a liar.”

you dramatically feigned offense, putting a hand on your chest as your jaw dropped. “how dare you assume such things about me? i am simply loving my boyfriend, is that such a crime?”

he scoffed as a weak smile made its way to his face, “you’re loving torturing your boyfriend, there’s a difference.” however, his eyes widened as he felt your lips press against his jaw. he gave you a pointed glare, “see what i mean?”

“oh hush, you love it.”

[route81]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Formula 1 RPF Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Characters: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, emphasis on the comfort because we all need it after that qualifying, Lando Norris Needs a Hug, Saudi Arabia Grand Prix 2025, Oscar Piastri is a Good Boyfriend, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship Summary:

“‘S just,” Lando begins, voice thick, “I can’t help but think…” He trails off. “Think what?” He keeps his voice calm, patient, nonjudgmental, just like Lando needs. “Were you happy?” Was he— what? His heart falls through his chest, shatters on the ground. “Lando, I— I’m not sure what you mean. Was I happy that you…?” “That I crashed.”

-

Or, Lando crashes in Q3, putting his championship lead at risk, and Oscar is there to pick up the pieces.

-

[beyondtheticklecloset]

Private Reunion (Blue Lock)

⚠️ Spoilers for the end of Season 1 of Blue Lock! ⚠️

Summary: After the second selection, Isagi takes Bachira aside for a private moment to confess his feelings.

A/N: Cards on the table - I've been wanting to write BachIsagi's first kiss scene for about a year now, and while rewatching the first season the last couple weeks I felt the urge come over me again. Originally I thought it would be when Isagi went to get Bachira back, but once I got there it didn't seem to feel right. Then the 4v4 game wrapped up the way it did, and there it was - the perfect moment (in my mind anyway). I hope you enjoy this fluffy first kiss scene! ^^

Word Count: 1186

~~~

It was over.

Isagi couldn’t believe it – in an instant, all of his plans and dreams for his time inside Blue Lock had shifted. He’d been completely prepared to go forward with his friends – Nagi, Chigiri, Barou, and Bachira. The five of them against whatever came next. He was so sure of that last play, been so proud of himself for making it there. But then…

Dumb freaking luck.

He still didn’t understand why he’d been chosen. Objectively, he was not nearly as physically skilled as his teammates had been. But Rin had chosen him, end of discussion, and now he was here with three people he barely knew, and…

Bachira.

Isagi’s eyes flitted up to his friend, locking onto the red jersey and #16 on his back. His brown-blonde hair that curled up at the ends. He felt his chest tighten. He had to remind himself to stay present and accept that what had happened, happened. He couldn’t change any of it. But Bachira…

Bachira, at least, was on his team once again. However it had worked out, his ultimate goal had been realized.

The five of them were retiring for the night; they had an important game tomorrow, but they’d all played their absolute hardest and were totally wiped out now. Aryu and Tokimitsu had already made it to the bedroom, but…

“Bachira,” Isagi said before he could lose his nerve, heart racing when the smaller boy turned to look at him.

“What’s up?”

“Can we…talk for a second? Out here?”

Those golden eyes blinked once, then brightened. “Sure.”

Once it was just the two of them in the hall, Isagi lowered his voice, though he knew the others wouldn’t be able to hear him through the closed door anyway. He took a breath, hesitated for just a moment, then gently grasped the other by the shoulders.

“Bachira, can I kiss you?”

Bachira’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t look alarmed. He was quiet for a beat before managing an odd, strangled, “What?”

Isagi took another breath. It was now or never. He’d already missed his chance once. Not this time.

“After Rin stole you from me, I realized I couldn’t stand to be apart from you,” he started. Bachira’s eyes remained wide, but now his breath caught and his expression seemed to shift from surprise to hope. Isagi plowed onward before he could lose his nerve. “Watching you walk away like that – it was the worst feeling. I hated that he’d taken you from me. And when you said you wouldn’t wait for me, I…”

He paused. Bachira gently placed his hands atop Isagi’s, encouraging him to continue without saying a word.

“This whole time, my only goal in catching up to Rin’s team was to win you back. I wasn’t even thinking of the selection anymore. I just knew I needed you.” Isagi shifted so he was holding Bachira’s hands now, gradually lowering them so he could give his eyes a reason to drift downward. “Looking back on it, I can see you were always so open about your feelings for me from the beginning. I was just so focused on soccer that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. But now…”

He glanced back up at him, and Bachira’s eyes were shining. He still didn’t say a word, patiently waiting for Isagi to finish.

“It didn’t go the way I wanted, necessarily, but I finally have you back, and I couldn’t bear the thought of going forward without telling you how I feel. I…I really, really like you, Bachira. I never want to lose you again.”

Isagi took a breath, his heart hammering. Bachira’s silence was so unusual, it made him nervous. What if he’d misread things all this time? What if his feelings had started to fade while they’d been separated? He sure seemed to enjoy playing alongside Rin out there during that match.

“S-So,” he stammered, voice lowering to a near whisper as he struggled to get the words out a second time, “can I ki—”

Bachira crushed his lips against Isagi’s before he could finish asking the question, taking him by surprise for only a split second before he melted, wrapping his arms around Bachira’s waist and holding him tightly, like he was afraid if he let go, he’d be letting him go forever.

Bachira’s arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair as he, too, pulled Isagi closer. Isagi stumbled forward until the smaller boy’s back was against the wall, and they were so consumed by each other they didn’t care about anything else in the world except for this moment, right here and now.

Eventually, however, they had to pull away for air, the both of them coming up gasping, then snickering at how silly they knew they must look.

“I was terrified he’d choose someone else,” Bachira admitted in a near whisper, never letting his arms fall from Isagi’s shoulders. “I wanted you so bad – I’ve always wanted you, Isagi. When he chose you I was so relieved I cried a little. I don’t know if you saw.”

“I didn’t,” Isagi admitted, holding him closer. “But that’s only because I was in shock, I think.”

“Now that we’re on the same team again, I want you to promise me you’ll never let us be separated again. I don’t want to play soccer without you, Isagi. You’re the reason I’ve made it this far.”

Isagi hugged Bachira close and buried his face in his neck. He was so happy – his heart so full – he thought he might explode like a firework. A million fiery, shining pieces falling down from the sky.

“I promise,” he said, his words muffled but no less meaningful for being spoken into Bachira’s shoulder.

And they stood there, holding each other close, and time seemed to stand still. They didn’t know when they finally let go, finally entered the room together, finally began to settle into their new reality. They just knew they were happier than they’d ever been before, and that they were finally – at long last – together.

Down the hall and around the corner, just out of their sight, Rin stood with his back pressed to the wall. He’d originally been coming back from the showers to grab his things for his wind-down routine, but one look at Isagi and Bachira making out in the hallway and he scrambled back out of sight. He didn’t intend to interrupt their moment, nor overhear their promises and confessions to each other, but he’d heard them all the same, and he couldn’t help but feel…something.

I knew he was looking for someone, Rin thought as the two of them finally finished their private reunion and headed into the bedroom. I just didn’t realize how hard he’d already fallen for someone right here in Blue Lock. I’m glad I chose Isagi. Not just for me, but for him, too.

He pushed off the wall a few minutes later, rounding the corner to the now empty hallway and walking toward the bedroom.

Maybe now they can both be happy again.

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty (slow burn) romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 4.2k💠 Released: November 3

Previous | Next | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Lowkey the ending of this chapter...idk like it's kinda not giving to me idk. Like it's ok but it's not at the same time. I'm probably just in my head😭 But anyways I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Also, the smut is coming very soon so don't worry....gotta love a lil "slow burn"😈

C.W: None

Tags: @nixalozt @lilthana @wakasaishot

↳ (Let me know via inbox or the comment section if you would also like to be tagged here for this story🩵). Enjoy guys!!

𝟔 || 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

The scent of old wood and a faint metallic hum filters through your foggy mind as you stir. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, met by the dim glow of muted blue and purple neon lights seeping through the cracks of a wooden ceiling.

You wince as you shift into a sitting position, a dull ache spreading through your limbs. Your fingers flex against the cold, hard surface beneath you. You're lying on a white floor.

"I'm gettin' tired of waking up in random places like some drunk..." You grumble under your breath, massaging your lower back with a hand.

As you move, something warm slips off your shoulders—a blanket quilt that must have been thrown over you while you were unconscious. Confusion gnaws at you. Simultaneously, you hear a small thud on the floor right next to you. You shift the blanket off of you, noticing that same purse from the first time you were here is next to you. 

You grab it, checking the contents like before. 

This time, it's different. Yes, there's a handy lipgloss and liner, but now there's an actual wallet inside. 

"Where the hell were you when that robot was all up in my face...?" You grit out, narrowing your eyes as you snatch the wallet. 

It's sleek, and actually metallic which is strange to you. Leather is usually the go-to for wallets back on earth. Metal is mind blowing. There's an ID inside, your picture and a citizen number like that cyber police bot was asking for. 

Citizen ID: 1186-25

It shows your status as immigrant, your sex, it even somehow has your birthdate on it too. 

How is this possible?! 

A slight unwanted panic begins to rise in your chest, but before it can fully take hold, the sound of muffled footsteps reaches your ears. Your head snaps towards the source—a door just beyond the workbench, cracked open with the words "Employees Only" etched into its wood in fading silver paint.

Then, the door creaks open fully now, revealing a tall figure in the doorway. For a split second, you tense up, but then you catch sight of his face—a kind face. The man standing there is older, though not elderly, with gelled back dark hair that has a striking silver streak running through the front. His lavender-colored eyes, oddly familiar, were filled with concern.

"You're awake," the man says, his voice low but gentle. He takes a step forward, hands raised slightly as if to show he means no harm. "You had me worried. I found you passed out in the back here, but there weren't any sign of injury, so I figured I'd let you rest."

You blink, the fog in your mind beginning to clear as you take in your surroundings. The room around you is small and cluttered, filled with what looked like old tools, spare parts, and strange devices you don't recognize. There's an unmistakable smell of dust and the faint hum of something electronic, though not in the modern, sleek sense you've become used to in Neon City. Everything here seems...dated, though not necessarily from your world.

"Where am I?" You ask, your voice raspy from the lack of use.

The man smiles softly. "You're in my shop. It's called 'Echoes.' I deal in musical instruments, sound systems, and the like."

"Is this...the underground?" You ask cautiously.

The man lets out a hearty laugh, "No, but I can see why you'd think so."

"So, I'm in Neon City?"

"Yup. You're on the Lower East side of the city." He nods, "You must've had a crazy night."

"I definitely did." You chuckle, recalling the events of the last time you were "dropped" in Neon City.

"Well, feel free to look around if you're feeling up to it. Take as much time as you need."

You smile lightly, genuinely appreciative of his thoughtfulness, then nod. "Thank you."

You stand and make your way out of the backroom, stepping into what was clearly the main area of the shop. As soon as you cross the threshold, your breath catches in your throat. The space before you is a literal treasure trove of musical artifacts—some familiar, some utterly alien.

Shelves line the walls, crammed with instruments and sound equipment. Old record players with intricately detailed designs, boom boxes that looked half-scrap and half-art installation, and microphones that seem to shimmer with a life of their own.

Curiously, you wander down an aisle, fingertips grazing the objects as you pass. A sleek, silver device caught your eye—it looked like a cross between a violin and a guitar but had no strings. Instead, it hums softly when you pick it up, vibrating beneath your touch.

"What is this?" You ask aloud.

The shopkeeper, who had followed you out of the back, smiles faintly. "Ah, that's a Virelax. It's a stringless instrument—well, stringless in the traditional sense. It uses sound waves to produce music. You control the pitch and tone by adjusting the frequency with your hands, like so." He demonstrates, running his fingers over the air just above the device. A soft, ethereal melody began to play, the notes shifting with each subtle movement of his hands.

Your eyes widen with a gasp. "Woooow!"

The shopkeeper chuckles. "It's one of the newer instruments in my collection."

You set the Virelax back down carefully and continue exploring, your heart filled to the brim with excitement. You come across a large, circular object with glowing blue orbs embedded into its surface. When you touch one of the orbs, a deep, resonant bass note echoes through the shop.

"Oooo! What's this one?" You ask, intrigued.

The shopkeeper nods appreciatively. "That's a Tymbrys. It operates on a similar principle as percussion but it's entirely digital. Each orb represents a different frequency, and you can create complex rhythms by pressing them in sequence."

"Ha, an electric bass..." You murmur with a grin.

Your fingers dance over the orbs, creating a spontaneous rhythm that pulses through the air. You grin, momentarily forgetting your confusion and the strange circumstances of your second arrival. For now, you're completely lost in the world of sound.

As you move further into the shop, something else catches your eye—a large object in the center of the room, partially covered by a thick, dusty cloth. There's something about its shape that tugs at your memory, something so familiar. Without thinking, you approach it and slowly pulled the cloth away.

You gasp loudly, your eyes sparkling with excitement. It's a concert grand Steinway & Sons piano!

The sleek, black surface is worn with age, but the instrument is unmistakably from Earth. The keys, though dusty, gleam faintly under the neon lights, and for a moment, you can almost hear the soft hum of music that had once been played on it.

The shopkeeper appeares beside you, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "That's an odd one," he remarks. "I found it many years ago, though I never could figure out how it worked."

You can't help the small giggle of amusement at his deep wonder of the instrument. "It's a piano," You inform, your voice soft with reverence. "It's from Earth; where I'm from. An acoustic instrument."

"Earth..?" He murmurs with furrowed brows.

"You can get real interesting with the keys—that's another name we call it. You just press down on the keys and there's—have you never thought to try it?" You ramble, thoughts coming out a mile a minute.

The shopkeeper chuckles at your burst of enthusiasm. "Of course not. I didn't know what it was."

"No no, I feel that. That's valid." You nod. If there was a strange object as huge and heavy as a concert grand piano, you'd leave it alone too.

"Can I...?" You trail off, pointing towards the pretty instrument. 

"Please. You're the expert." He raises his hands in surrender. Without another word you go and take a seat on the piano bench, adjusting your skirt as you do. You sit there for a minute, grazing your fingers along the keys before finally striking the first note, and slowly building a song.  As your fingers get accustomed to the new chord changes your heart makes up, some lyrics begin to follow after, meshing with the melody line you made.

The shopkeeper's eyes widen in awe as the music washes over him. "Incredible..." He murmurs under his breath. Nearly stumbling in the process, he goes and places his hand on the holographic panel by the front door of his shop. The door slides open, and the neon sign that say "OPEN" flickers to life.

The sound filters out for the outside world to hear. Almost instantly passerby's stop in their tracks. The citizens of Neon City are accustomed to synthetic, electronically produced music. The natural, acoustic sound of the piano is foreign to them—alien, yet captivating. One by one, people begin to gather outside the shop, peering through the windows to see where the strange sound is coming from.

As you play, more and more people gather until there's a large crowd, their faces pressed against the glass, eyes wide with wonder. Some even venture inside, drawn by the unfamiliar yet beautiful sound. Soon, the whole shop is filled with a crowd, all listening in rapt silence as you play. You aren't sure how much time's gone by when your hands finally slow to a stop, your right foot on the damper pedal creating a soft resonance from the last chord you played. And the, as you lift your hands from the black and white keys, a roar of clapping and cheers nearly makes your heart leap out of your chest. You turn around, just now noticing the crowd that's formed. There's strange looking phones out, recording still or just finishing up as others continue to cheer for you. 

Your cheeks warm from the praise. It's something you've never been able to get used to even after all these years of performing. It's crazy having so many eyes on you, so much attention. But it's heartwarming nonetheless. 

The people begin to disperse, going back to their regularly scheduled programs. You fiddle around haphazardly with the keys some more before the shopkeeper makes his way over to you with a warm smile. 

"Here," He says, handing you a small handful of what you could only equate to reddish pink, gem-like coins. "You put on quite a show earlier, something I've never seen, and I figure you need something to eat after that. Consider it a 'thank you' for...whatever that was." His expression softens, and his tone takes on a more serious note. "I haven't heard sounds like that in...well, I've never heard them."

You smile flattered as you look at the foreign currency in your hands. "Thank you, really. But... I don't want to take your money," You mumble, feeling both touched and conflicted. "I'll be fine."

The shopkeeper chuckles and shakes his head. "You're not from around here, right? Look, let me help out—it's no trouble, really. Just a couple credits for a bite. And who knows, maybe I'll see you around again."

After a moment's pause, you smile gratefully. "Alright...thank you so much." You clutch the "coins" in your purse, glancing back to give him one last appreciative look before stepping out onto the streets.

In the morning light, the streets look almost ethereal. The glow from the enormous holographic ads seemed less intense in the sunlight, more muted yet still mesmerizing as they pulse across towering screens. Large advertisements hover above the streets, holographic models and products being promoted by smiling faces and energetic gestures. A soft hum fills the air from the thousands of small mechanical parts working in perfect harmony throughout the city, powering its lights, transportation systems, and other technologies you could hardly recognize.

You wander down a broad avenue, marveling at the towering buildings that stretch up to meet a bright, cloudless sky. Many of the structures seem designed with metallic finishes, causing them to glint and gleam as the sunlight hits their polished surfaces. The streets are bustling with people of all different looks and styles. Many wear clothes embedded with tiny, flickering lights, some with holographic patching that changed designs as they moved. Others have more minimalistic but edgy styles, their eyes shielded by sleek, transparent visors.

Lost in the flow of the city, you let your feet carry you forward, absorbing each new sight. Vendors line the sidewalks, with food carts offering strange, colorful snacks that you can't even begin to name, and tiny drones buzz around, delivering parcels or providing live updates about city happenings. You feel yourself moving in tune with the morning vibe—a different rhythm from the nightlife you'd experienced, but captivating in its own way.

Eventually, your eyes caught sight of a small diner on the corner of a bustling intersection. Its design was a blend of sleek metal and soft, ambient lights, and a neon-blue sign flickered with the words "Circuit Diner." The place seems busy enough but not overly crowded. Through the large, clear windows, you can see customers seated in metallic booths with robotic waiters gliding past them, delivering plates of vibrant food.

Curiosity got the better of you as you push open the glass door, and the inside is even more entrancing than it looks from outside. The walls are adorned with minimalistic light strips that cast a soft glow, making the space feel both futuristic and surprisingly cozy. Screens play holographic images of abstract art that seem to move in time with a soft, ambient soundtrack playing in the background.

"Good morning, citizen," Chirps a robotic voice, and you turn to see a sleek, mid-sized metallic server gliding over to you, its faceplate reflecting your curious, semi-bewildered expression. "Welcome to Circuit Diner! May I recommend our most popular breakfast combination?"

You blink, unsure of what exactly a "breakfast combination" would entail here in Neon City, but nod nonetheless. "Uuuhh, sure, I'll try it."

"Excellent! Your order will be ready soon." The server says with a polite and chipper "beep" before gliding away.

As you wait, you take in the sight of other patrons around you. Some sat alone, scrolling on transparent screens projected from tiny devices worn around their wrists or in their hands, while others sat in groups, chatting animatedly about topics that sound damn near alien to you. You catch snippets about racing, new tech upgrades, trending styles, and names you don't recognize but file away, curious to learn more about this city that feels both familiar and otherworldly.

After a few moments, the robot server returns, setting down a tray with a strange yet appealing meal. The food looks almost too beautiful to eat—perfectly shaped and colored in a way that makes you wonder if it's meant to be eaten at all. There's a glass of ombre purple liquid that seemed to shimmer slightly, along with a small plate of neon-colored bites that look vaguely like fruit but don't smell like any you know.

Taking a tentative bite, you're surprised by the burst of flavors—sweet and slightly tangy, with a soft texture that melted in her mouth. You can't help but smile, savoring each bite and sipping the purple drink, which tastes like a refreshing blend of berries and mint with a hint of something you can't quite place, but it's amazing.

As you sit by the window, enjoying the quietness of your breakfast, you feel a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, an unshakable feeling that someone was looking at you. You glance outside, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat.

Wakasa stood there, just beyond the glass, his lilac eyes locked onto yours. A storm of emotions passed across his face—surprise, confusion, then something darker, almost like hurt or frustration. You can't look away, mesmerized by the intense gaze he had fixed on you, like he’d been searching for you without even realizing it. For a second, you forget where you are, that you're just two people in a bustling, neon-lit city; it feels like the whole world has gone quiet, leaving only the two of you in a strange silence.

Your heart began to race, and you quickly drop your gaze down to the table, hoping he didn't notice the flustered look on your face. But by the time you look up again, he's already pushing through the diner door, his steps quick and purposeful.

You watch, your nerves on edge, as he moves through the space with that effortless confidence of his, like he's barely aware of the way people turn to look at him. He scans the diner, eyes narrowing until they land back on you. In an instant he's at your table, his expression unreadable. A strange mix of irritation and relief, but his gaze is intense, like he has something he needs to say but can't quite find the words. You decide to speak your piece first. 

"Hey, Wakasa!" You smile brightly, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again-

"Are you serious? Where the hell have you been, huh?" He cuts you off, not at all interested in your little chit chat.

You're completely caught off guard, your face contorting into a look of bewilderment. He looks so genuinely upset, and you've never heard his voice come across so stern before.

"I-I was..."

"You-you were? Do you realize it's been three whole days? You had me out here searching for your ass thinkin' something happened to you! You got the audacity to be sitting here in your little cutesy ass outfit eating breakfast!" His words spill out in an uncharacteristic rant, frustration and annoyance evident in his tone. He shakes his head, glaring down at you as if you'd committed some grave offense.

You try not to laugh at the sight of him—the usually laidback, stoic man, standing in the middle of a diner, upset because he couldn't find you. It's actually sweet, in its own strange way. You can't help but mess with him a little.

"Well, yeah," You shrug casually, forcing yourself not to laugh too soon. "I mean, don't they say to always keep a man on his toes—"

"Don't play games with me," He snaps, his tone serious, though there was an edge of something softer beneath it. "You disappeared. Like a ghost. No trace, no word, nothin'. I thought—"

"Not you being worried", You giggle, hovering a hand over your smile, "Not you...caring."

You laugh out loud at the way his eyes narrow at you, his jaw tensing up as he tries to keep his annoyed expression. "You're pissin' me off..." He grumbles.

"I'm sorry! Ok, really, I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry." You reply, forcing the smile down so you can try and get serious. He only gives you a low grunt in response.

"You forgive me? Com'ere." You say softly, taking his hand and looking up at him with your best doe eyes you can muster. His scowl deepens, but it doesn't last very long. He sighs heavily, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

"Yeah, whatever." He glances at the seat across from you, then back to your beaming face. "You gonna let me sit, or am I just s'pposed to stand here while you finish eating?" 

You chuckle and scoot over, gesturing to the seat across from you. Wakasa takes a seat, still grumbling under his breath about how you're such a pain, but the relief in his eyes is unmistakable.

"You know," Wakasa starts, leaning back against his seat, "I've got a race later tonight. Pretty high-stakes one, too. How 'bout you come and watch me?"

Your eyes light up immediately, a spark of excitement unmistakable in your expression. "You want me to watch your race?" You couldn't even try to hide the enthusiasm in your voice. Last time he was so adamant about you not coming along to watch that kid Jaxon's race, now he actually wants you to go. 

"Yeah. I mean, you missed the last one," He replies, the corners of his mouth curving upward, almost like he's enjoying your reaction. "Figured you'd wanna actually watch a race this time." 

Another rush of excitement washes over you; after all, you'd heard Wakasa and even Benkei briefly talk about street racing and its wild world of high stakes and pride, and whatnot. So to be able to see Wakasa in action makes your heart race. You laugh lightly, "Yeah, for sure, sounds like fun. I'll be cheering for you."

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Why my name for that instrument (virelax) sound like a damn medication for people 60 and above with like 99 different symptoms that come with it😭💀 absolutely do not entrust me to name instruments🤡

[the-bi-space-ace]

A Quick Cuddle - Part 2 - Tech

Ao3 Link

Part 1 - Wrecker - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 3 - Hunter - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 4 - Crosshair - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Summary: Echo hugs Tech for the first time.

Words: 1186

Part of leaving the 501st to join with Clone Force 99 was always going to involve a sense of longing. Walking away from Rex that day had been one of the hardest decisions of his life. Regret wasn’t the word he’d use. He didn’t regret choosing to leave with the batch. It was one of the things that allowed him to move forward with newness and embrace what had changed without expectation of who he used to be. Regardless, he couldn’t help the way he missed people at times. Rex, Kix, Jesse, even Cody - who he saw more often than anyone else - all held space in his heart and their absence left him melancholic. 

The downness had been worse that day. His new squad was good company most days but part of him truthfully wanted a good night surrounded by the broadness of the 501st, people he knew and trusted already. People that already knew him. It would shrink as time passed, that he knew, but that didn’t stop the ache as he entered the cockpit. 

The only one sitting up, as he expected, was Tech. Tech was a constant. A variable that refused to change. He liked what he liked, said what he meant, and not a single moment went by when Echo didn’t feel completely and utterly accepted by him. Like another part of himself he found through sheer will and chance. Tech made his thoughts quiet so he thought it best to steal away in the cockpit until the urge to cry passed. 

Tech was sitting in the pilot’s seat, a box of trinkets on the floor by his feet, and a screw driver held in his hand as he drilled away into a machine Echo didn’t recognize. A new scanner, perhaps, or a new invention altogether. Often Echo didn’t know what it was that Tech was working on, simple that he was. He took a seat in the empty chair, leaning back into it and staring at the blue of hyperspace as it sped past them. He’d always liked the way it moved, the way he could stare at it for hours and get lost in its glow. Beside him Tech rummaged through the box, pulling out an object with wires hanging out of its metallic body. He had to smile as Tech talked to himself, yanking out a wire before digging his tool into the empty socket. One day he’d hurt himself doing that then go right back to it again. 

“What’re you up to?” Echo seemed to interrupt his squadmate’s thoughts as Tech jerked his head up towards the voice. He blinked then shook his head, finally opening his mouth.

“I am attempting to repair a power cell meant for one of the Marauder’s engines.” He pushed his goggles back up onto his nose. “My ship needs an upgrade and I have been far too busy to finish it.” He screwed something into the socket then cranked it to the side, several metal pieces falling out that were then scooped into his palm. 

“Our ship, Tech.” Echo reminded, although he knew Tech wouldn’t hear him, not entirely. The entire reason he came to the cockpit was for distraction and now he’d set off a bomb. The man next to him rambled, falling into full detail of the upgrades needed and how he was accomplishing them. Several claims of ‘unseasoned mechanics’ and ‘superior design’ were made that Echo just shook his head at. Something about Tech’s voice always soothed him. This early on he wasn’t expecting to latch quite so fast but there was something about him that calmed the racing thoughts, quieted the anxiety that rested in his chest. The noise was appreciated. After Skako Echo found himself craving company, attention, more than he ever had before. The change hadn’t exactly been welcome, he’d always prided himself on a certain level of independence, but that had shifted along with many other things he was still growing comfortable with. If Fives were here he’d say Echo was always a ‘clinger’ but that was more about teasing him than anything else. 

“Oh,” Tech held up his finger and  stood, drawing Echo’s attention.. He fished through the box then pulled out a gray square pad. A cord hung from it with a box at one end, a finished edge creating a plush box with little divots evenly spaced throughout. “Battery powered heating pad. I know your back hurts often and I thought, since we can’t continue having the heavier pain medication on hand, this would assist with your sleep cycle.” Echo looked from the little pad to Tech. He remembered him complaining about his back? He remembered the aches and the pains that plagued Echo each time he laid in one spot for too long. Not only that but he’d gone out of his way to create something that he could use wherever they were. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised but he couldn’t help it. The idea that he’d taken up some sort of space in Tech’s mind was… well… nice. It made a warm spot glow in his chest, bright and airy. A grin split his face before he could hide it. He stood to take it, turning it around in his hands to feel the fibers. The plush fabric felt nice against his skin, no scratchiness detected. 

“Thanks, Tech.” Echo shook his head, almost too overwhelmed to hide it. Words didn’t roll easily off of his tongue as his eyes started to sting. In an attempt to release the joy he felt he threw his arms around Tech’s neck, hugging him tightly. It felt like the right thing to do. The man seemed startled for a moment, rocking backwards then readjusting to account for Echo’s weight against him. 

“Oh, physical contact. I see. You’re one of those.” Tech’s statement didn’t sound judgey but Echo could see how he may have crossed a line. He’d jumped in a little too quickly, didn’t warn Tech, so he pulled away to put an arm’s length of space between them. And Tech was a words guy. He spoke, he listened, but he didn’t initiate anything physical with Echo yet. 

“I can let go if you want.” Echo started to drop his arms but Tech’s wound around his waist before he could step away, stepping forward to allow shared space again. 

“No, this is acceptable. Proceed.” Tech said as he burrowed his face into Echo’s neck. It was much snugglier than he anticipated, a prickling on his skin where Tech’s warm breath hit his neck. Regardless, a sigh of relief left Echo in a contented huff, hugging back just as tightly as he did the first time. 

Tech’s hugs were great. Perfectly snug enough to chase away whatever sadness he’d been feeling. It reminded him of the hugs Hevy used to give - very sweet and kind - but with a certain exactness that had him thinking Tech had somehow perfected hugs. Studied them, researched them. Something. Whatever it was, Echo wasn’t complaining. 

That warm spot in his chest grew as his previous melancholy drifted away. 

[starsfic]

Experiment 1186, or Bigger Bodies Bobby BearHug, notoriously had complications of sensory and mobility after the creation procedure. But when hearing and verbal issues continued to persist after initial attempts at correctional surgery, Bigger Bodies Bubba Bubbaphant took initiative through unprompted research into nonverbal forms of communication, discovering a process known as American Sign Language, or ASL for short.

Anon: Poppy and her Angel come across another VHS tape as they make their way through the factory. The contents therein depict a high-level company scientist in a heated debate with a lower level employee over company ethics. This is nothing new to the Angel, as they were that lower level employee, and they remember that argument clear as day. The thing that caught them completely off-guard was what happened after their past self on tape had left and was well out of earshot. If their former superior and another colleague's following exchange were to be taken seriously, they very well could've become involuntarily marked as the next Bigger Bodies experiment subject had the Hour of Joy not derailed everything.

"What are you doing? Why are those things out of their cells?"

Normally, the sudden voice of the Doctor would have every scientist jumping. Dr. Harley Sawyer had shown a willingness to "volunteer" those who displeased him for the next round of experimentation. The scientists knew what these involved.

Many were sick for days afterward.

But, right now, all of them were more focused on the three in the center of the room. If the scientist sitting next to the Bigger Bodies had heard the Doctor, they didn't visibly react. Instead, they slowly worked through signing something before patting their chest.

Experiment 1183, also known as Bubba Bubbaphant, nodded and glanced at Experiment 1186, Bobby Bearhug, who had been staring at the scientist. Slowly, she raised her hands and followed the sign that the scientist laid out, finishing it by pointing at the scientist.

"Yeah, that's me," the scientist said as they signed the words. "You did really good!"

"Thank you," Bubba said, following their cue and signing the words. It was a little harder, considering he didn't have fingers, but the attempt was made. "Is there anything else you can teach us?"

Dr. Sawyer cleared his throat and the scientist jolted, finally noticing him. "Not right now," they signed. "Maybe you can go and show the others? I'm really proud of what you both have learned so far."

Bubba nodded, his expression drawing into a blank one. As he got up and helped Bobby get to her feet, the scientist turned to their boss.

"What is this?" Dr. Sawyer repeated. Instead of the normal anger, however, he looked curious.

"Bubba heard about Bobby's struggles with her voice and hearing," the scientist said. Their hands were still. "He took it upon himself to find an alternative method of communication for her. I was impressed and decided to try and help."

"Without permission. Both of you." The look in his eyes was strange, caught between glee at his experiments doing something new and the fury at being left out of the loop.

"Yes," the scientist admitted. "Without permission. The methods we were using to communicate with 1186 were clearly not working and violating several parts of the ethics clause in the work contract-" Anger overtook the glee.

"That is not your role to decide, Angel." Dr. Sawyer snarled, looming over them. The rest of the scientists turned away, leaving their coworker to the Doctor's mercies. "You have introduced unusual variables to this project and the damage you have caused is unknown."

"Damage?" Angel sputtered after a moment of gaping at him. "Bubba and I want to help her! Hell, there are tons of kids in Playcare that have issues with communication and the staff are just lumps on a log-"

Dr. Sawyer raised a hand. "You are clearly angry and unable to communicate-" he said. Sadistic glee joined the anger at the expression on Angel's face. "I am cutting these sessions short. If alternative communication is viewed as needed, we will review-"

"You can't-"

"Leave. I'm giving you the rest of the day off to cool down."

Angel looked around, but nobody met their eyes. Finally, they groaned before turning and marching out of the lab.

Dr. Sawyer lingered, watching where Angel had just left. "Schedule the next procedure for August, when the marketing campaign will start," he said. "If Nurse Angel demands to follow their name," He finally turned to his desk and unfurled blueprints. "Then they'll be an angel-"

The TV went dark.

Angel, ten years older now, stared at the TV. It hadn't been a surprise to find one down here in the labs, their old workplace, but they didn't expect to find this tape. "Fuck," they finally managed.

"You remember that?" Poppy asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, I was so fucking mad-" But they hadn't expected Dr. Sawyer to plan on experimenting on them.

Fuck.

[yell0wsalt]

Fic: A Glass House

For @meljaymicrofics Day 8: All Good Things (Come to an End) by Nelly Furtado

Relationship: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda

Rating: M

cw: implied sexual content, mild angst with a happy ending, modern AU

that song is so sad I needed to turn it around today!

Summary: Mel was visiting the country of Ionia for work. Strictly that. But what if running into an attractive local made the time more pleasurable? She shouldn't. They shouldn't. Right?

word count: 1186

Mel knew she was running on borrowed time. That they were nearly reaching the end of their line. What they had going on was but an arrangement they set in place a little over a month ago, craving the presence of the other with a depth of intimacy far greater than spare glances when they would each be invested in their work. Even still when a certain fate is known, doesn’t mean it is any more palatable to bear.

She had been on a business trip visiting the country of Ionia intending to forge international relations with the people. Impeccable to come across a humble blacksmith who was helpful in showing her around town when she lost her way. When learning the way of the roads and the public works projects he was involved in evolved into wanting to discover what kind of strength the man held in his hands and rest of his body, Mel found herself falling under. 

She normally wasn’t like this. To be so bold, checking if their businesses intertwined while on her trip. She recalled him telling her his name was Talis. Jayce Talis. Checking the directory brought a smile to her lips. 

Seeing the man around her work would certainly be a sight for sore eyes. 

Matters between Mel and Jayce started off simply. Seeing what the other was involved in relevant to their projects during the day. If the nights ran long, sharing a meal or two together was a pleasure that warmed their insides with more than what was on their plates.

The step taking them over the peak to sharing a bed together managed to come to them easily. Maybe the extra drink or two they had didn’t hurt, but it happened to be a Friday night Happy Hour and drinks were half off. 

One would be a fool to say no.

Neither of them could say no to the other’s advances in touches.

And frankly didn’t want to. 

They lingered delicately, traveled to more daring spaces, quietly yearning to uncover what made the other squirm or turned their skin electric.

The following day brought on a swirl of emotions unbeknownst to Mel and Jayce before. The high of satisfying a deeply locked away craving they never realized before. One fulfilled simply by being in the other's presence.

Then there was the low of reality that incinerated such bliss.

Floodgates had opened, riding the waves until they would hit the wall, steadily building in accordance to Mel’s deadline to return to her home country. 

But neither of them wanted to think about that. Only the day ahead of them and what they could do together.

Jayce and Mel quietly agreed on not making anything between them official. A certain amount of emotional distance set based on boundaries of what they could and could not take. 

The first week turned out fair, putting their arrangement into practice. Conversation flowed easily and the air about them was comfortable. Time after hours both outside and under the sheets was too delightful to give up. Far beyond rediscovering intimacy with another warm body.  

When she was around Jayce, Mel was more than her work, her successes on paper, and the like. She would be able to let go of the well groomed composure and not fear rejection from Jayce.

And his passion for progress was admirable. Certainly attractive. Seeing and hearing of his own work and dreams she found first-hand capable of inspiring anyone he touched. 

Gods, she was drowning. Falling in a fire that gave her life. But what would come of her when the flame eventually extinguished?

The need to face the answer came faster than anticipated. 

Around six weeks into Mel’s trip, she told Jayce. 

“My work here is just about done,” she stated as they shared another late work night together over dinner. Her words didn’t feel like hers, like they came from a stranger’s lips. Detached and flat.

The clattering of a fork against the table rattled in Jayce’s ears. “Wait. What? But, I–I thought there was still so much more to do.” Eyes blown, they darted back and forth searching for clarity in Mel’s eyes.

Apparently, she was due to return by the end of next week. There had been talks amongst her and the other higher ups earlier in that day about the tentative timeline.

“Why? I mean why would you tell me this now? I along with the rest of my team likely would have found out within the next several days.”

Mel simply exhaled as her gaze became glassy, drifting to some far off corner of their space. 

When she turned back to him, what she said next set the glass house they built asunder.

“What if I wanted you to be with me tonight? Could you make love to me?” 

Even if it was just pretend?

Jayce’s reply is a kiss on the lips. A soft juxtaposition the way it simultaneously quenched yet fuelled the fire within. The one kiss on the lips turned to another and then another. Hands eager to move to intimacy best continued behind private quarters.

Bed sheets rustled as Jayce woke with a start. Briefly disoriented by the midnight hour, Jayce felt the side of his bed to be empty. 

Faintly warm, but empty.

“Did I startle you, Jayce?” Mel’s voice warmly grounded him as he found her standing by the bedroom window, looking over the view of the town.

“Not at all. Couldn’t sleep?”

Mel tightened the cinch of her robe. “In certain words. Having thoughts about…”

“Us?” Jayce supplied carefully.

Mel hummed.

“I…,” she internally sighed at the false start. “My mind has run in countless circles over what to say, how to say it, and it’s driving me crazy. I mean it’s part of my job to know exactly what the right words to say are, and yet when it– when it comes to this– I can’t.”

Almost immediately, Mel felt overwhelmed by Jayce’s strong arms wrapping around her torso. Iin that moment feeling him like this, when she could feel him under her touch as well, everything felt right. Felt clear.

“I…,” Jayce began cautiously. “I had been waiting on finding what the right time was,” he said all the while watching Mel’s brows slowly furrow to a question. “But I am finding there’s no real ‘right time’”

“What are you saying, Jayce?”

Mouth gaping like a fish out of water, his eyes widened, momentarily flustered. “Be right back,” he affirmed before darting off to another room, catching Mel’s stifled giggle in the background.

His return came with a gift for her. Not in the form of an engagement ring like she almost feared, but a promise ring. That even when considering time and distance, his heart would always belong to her and, if she so desired, her heart with him.

When Jayce's words lodged their way in her heart and the cross starred ring slipped on her finger, could Mel finally feel okay acknowledging the reality before her. 

A kiss that tasted of salty tears and hope for a good thing.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

a toast to gifted knife sets

by gotham_knight_watch Damian is brutal. Damian is efficient. Damian is a fool and a dreamer. Damian is four, asking his mother who his father is. It is Damian's first truly important lesson. He is four, and he learns family do not protect each other Words: 1186, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of A Toast To The Waynes ! Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Titus | Damian Wayne's Dog Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: mentioned - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Talia al Ghul's A+ Parenting, Found Family, Dark Batfamily (DCU), Mafia Batfamiy, Dark Dick Grayson, Dark Bruce Wayne, Dark Damian Wayne via https://ift.tt/l27vG3a