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crushmeeren · 7 months

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🍓Kirishima SFW & NSFW Headcannons

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+; continue scrolling or block if you aren’t into it

Warnings; daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, hair pulling, mentions of choking, throat fucking, pussy eating, vaginal sex, Kirishima spits into readers mouth and you swallow that shit happily, cream pie, sweet aftercare, sleepy sex

Note; I’m in love with Kirishima, I’ve been writing a lot of headcannons lately but I simply could not resist the urge to write about the overgrown puppy that is Kirishima. Enjoy this meal with me 🍓

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Eijirou who is the actual human embodiment of a ray of sunshine (he is the definition of golden retriever energy—you know if he had a tail it would wag non stop, definitely smacking the shit out of you)

Eijirou who you met for the first at the gym—you were uncomfortable & unsure of what you were doing when this mountain of a man with bright ass red hair came up to you so shy and explained how to back squat without hurting yourself (this fucker had the sweetest smile, despite his sharp teeth—but Jesus Mother Mary & Joseph—you thought you would fall to your knees just looking at him)

Eijirou who stuttered and turned pink every time you asked him to be your spotter whenever you saw him at the gym, until finally he asked for your number (you were gonna ask for his if he didn’t do it first—you definitely did not fist pump afterwards)

Eijirou who is a heart stopping amount of stacked, but is the biggest softie you have ever met, who gets overly excited to play with your dog-wrestling with him and cuddling him (you swear your dog now loves Eiji more than you, ever since you moved in together they’re two peas in a pod- much to your chagrin)

Eijirou who is really smart — okay maybe not top dog when it comes to book smart but he is street smart and exceptional at reading people, who always knows how you’re feeling even when you don’t say anything (it’s always a relief that he can tell when you don’t feel like talking)

Eijirou who is oblivious to how he looks, who has a shit ton of of instagram followers—not because he tries, no it’s because he started posting pictures of himself at the gym just for fun and unbeknownst to him everything he posts is like a goddamn thirst trap (he only realizes after you point it out because you’re starting to get jealous of all the comments but he always says he only has eyes for you)

Eijirou who almost never says no to you, who always goes with the flow, an easy smile lighting up his face, who lets you pick out the movie for date night more often than not (you make sure to pick something he likes anyways)

Eijirou who really likes cherry twizzlers, who has literal hearts in his eyes whenever you buy him a pack every Friday (he coos adorably at you when you hand him the bag saying you’re so sweet to me pretty girl, I love you so much! How did I get so lucky??), who shares them with you anyways

Eijirou who loves to wear athletic clothes—but also likes to dress punk?? (he’s very diverse), who has his ears pierced (two on each lobe), who looks otherworldly when he wears nicer outfits (you definitely make the joke about his clothes looking better on your floor)

Eijirou who is best friends with Katsuki, (you’ve shockingly been able to become close to him as well), who often plays video games online with his friends (Katsuki, Denki, Sero, also Izuku & Shouto), who likes it when you sit on the floor between his legs while he plays

Eijirou who purrs like a cat when you scratch his scalp whenever his hair is down, who lays his head in your lap while you watch TV so you can continue to play with his hair, who falls asleep halfway through the movie because he feels too relaxed

Eijirou whose presence is calming and friendly, who makes you feel safe, who everyone likes (you’ve never heard a bad word said about him—you’d curb stomp anyone who did)

Eijirou who has made you feel more loved then anyone else you’ve ever been with before, who fills your chest with a warmth so intense your eyes often sting with tears—who brings you your favorite food or drink out of blue, who makes you laugh so hard your stomach cramps (he’s the funniest motherfucker you know)

Eijirou who has become your other half, like a limb you didn’t realize was missing all this time, who becomes your husband, who becomes the father of your children, who you share a love with that only comes once every five life times (you know you’ll never love anyone else no matter what comes your way)

🍓NSFW Headcannons Below🍓

Eijirou who kisses you so softly, lips sliding with yours lazily as he lets out little sighs, thumbs slipping under your shirt to tease the smooth skin over your hip bones as you straddle him—until he lets his sharp teeth snag on your bottom lip, chomping into the flesh there, wrenching a startled gasp out of you (he sucks on it apologetically afterwards)

Eijirou who has a thing for letting you dry hump him (while you’re both still clothed), head thumping back on the couch cushion, fingers tight on your waist, flushing, groaning, eyes fluttering shut as he helps you drag your clit back and forth over his cock—dick throbbing painfully from the friction through his jeans

Eijirou who has a switch that flips once he gets to a certain level of aroused, who tosses you onto the bed effortlessly, caging you between his arms, who grips your jaw tightly —forcing it to pop open (he spits possessively into your mouth, telling you to swallow it baby girl, which you do gladly)

Eijirou who loves the feel of your hot, wet mouth sucking his cock, who gets you sitting on your calves on the floor, back against the mattress as his fingers hold the back of your head in place, so he can fuck your throat, who keeps one knee up on the bed next to your head as he thrusts, groin tightening when you look at him with teary eyes (he murmurs lowly baby girl s’good at sucking daddys cock aren’t you? —Your pussy drools)

Eijirou who eats your pussy from behind, soft tongue consistently licking at your clit, fingers stretching your pussy as your face is shoved into the sheets, ass in the air for him, your belly flutters warmly as he smacks your ass with his free hand (it doesn’t take you long to cum like this)

Eijirou whose cock is thick, and you’re talking thick thick, enough that he has to get you dripping before he can get his dick wet (but you love it, the stretch is almost an overwhelming pleasure)

Eijirou who has a daddy kink, who makes you beg for his cock when he has you folded in half—knees almost touching your ears, he teases your pussy with his tip telling you condescendingly you gotta ask daddy nicely if you want to be split open sweetheart (you absolutely do sob daddy please)

Eijirou whose chest gets slick with sweat (hair always falling from its spiky position when you start to go at it), whose moans raise in pitch when he can feel your nipples slipping over & over on his pecs as he fucks you, the sensation making pleasure blister through your limbs, pussy fluttering which makes Eijirou cry out

Eijirou who has a filthy deep stroke, who pants & whispers toe curling praise in your ear but fucks you like he’s trying to carve out your guts, you weave your fingers through his hair, tugging sharply as he moves, (pussy s’good to me sweet thing, daddy loves fucking you, such a tight little thing)

Eijirou who growls under his breath when he fucks you from behind, sliding his cock back in your pussy all the way to the root, forcing a choked sob out of you, who is brutal from the get go, pelvis smacking wetly against yours

Eijirou who makes you cum instantly, wailing please daddy just like that! when he threads his fingers through your hair, forcing your neck back at a sharp angle, activating his quirk just enough on his left hand so he can leave bruises on your hip (oh? right there angel? that was a big one wasn’t it baby, so good cumming for daddy — voice dripping in your belly like honey)

Eijirou who pulls you up into his lap, back against his chest, hand around your throat as he bounces you on his cock, who makes your back arch as he bites on your shoulder, whining lowly as he cums, whose cock you can feel pulsing as his sticky release fills you up (fuck daddy, love when you cum in me — that makes his eyes roll back)

Eijirou who has you limping to the shower afterwards, but he washes your body, rubs your lower back, who tells you how much he loves you as he carries you back to the bed in a towel, who makes you giggle as he pokes your ribs when you change into one of his large T-shirts

Eijirou whose face you pepper with kisses when he climbs into the bed with you, who lets you wake him up in the middle of the night to ride him sweet and slow, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, limbs heavy with sleep, who cradles you against his chest when you eventually fall back asleep

2K notes · View notes

angelshadowsinger · 3 months

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Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you.

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are!

･゜゜・��｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything.

Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears.

Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you.

The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you.

Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down.

In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;

You were in love with your best friend, Azriel.

He was in love with someone else.

And you were going to die.

—

Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult.

Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway.

Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun.

But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest.

You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there.

It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too.

He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too.

It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him.

But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen.

Because now, he had Elain.

Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman.

Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room.

The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound.

As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own.

But of course, that was not the case.

Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.

—

Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again.

The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece.

Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.

The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened.

A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state.

“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible.

But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.”

You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.

“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered.

The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else.

Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”

You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.

“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on.

Cassian was quiet.

You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability.

“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind.

You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.”

The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”

You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?”

Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”

You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.

“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.”

Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts.

“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?”

It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before.

Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.”

You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury.

And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you?

“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words.

Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you.

Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.”

You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.” Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low.

You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”

“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling. “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”

“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”

Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”

A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead?

Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward.

You had to go through with the procedure.

You had to forget Azriel.

𝘩𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!! 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 <3 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘛𝘚𝘗𝘍𝘠~ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯~

𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 & 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!!

⤷ masterlist

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angelshadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #my work #azriel x you #STSPFY series

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dabislittlemouse · 1 year

Text

ʚ DABI FLUFF ALPHABET ɞ

(A-Z)

Credits go to @snk-warriors for this cute idea. This one is totally fluff/sfw. Smut alphabet will come soon.

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Dabi loves going on walks with you, especially during the night. He loves to take you on empty peaceful places, like forests, beach, etc. Dabi also likes to stay home as well, watching movies as he rests his head on your thighs or your chest and eating snacks.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/ o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

To him you’re a ray of sunshine in his life, your beautiful eyes shining whenever you see him is what he loves the most. Your eyes show a million emotions that you don’t always express in words, and that’s where he realizes how much he is loved by you.

He admires your strength, your recklessness, your braveness to take risks and not caring too much what happens or what other people think.

Dabi admires the way so many little things make you giddy; pretty flowers that you found in the park, a butterfly that you were trying to catch, silly trinkets that you got in some shop. He can’t understand why such simple things make you so excited overall, but he loves the way you smile and jump around whenever you get your hands on pretty stuff. It makes him want to spoil you a lot.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Dabi will grab your face with both hands, get closer until your noses touch. “It’s okay baby, I’m here… shhh, you’re safe.. calm down love…take a deep breath”

He’ll hug you and make your head rest on his chest, he’ll encourage you to breathe in the same rythm as him, until you eventually calm down. He’ll place little kisses on your head and rub your back, if your hands are trembling he’ll grab them and squeeze them softly, letting you know that he’s here with you, he’ll keep you safe.

Dabi will hear you rant, will let you cry on his chest, will encourage you to let it all out, will try his best to understand you and make you feel better.

He actually gives some of the best advice ever and provides so much comfort for you. Chatting with him will make the burden on your chest feel less heavy.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Assuming he’ll be alive until he sees that day, Dabi wants to be in a small house far, far away from the city, maybe in a forest, or some farm. Just you and him, together in your happy little home, a peaceful life that he has longed so much for.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dabi is mostly passive, he lets you decide where to go, what movies to watch, what activities to do for the day. He simply goes with everything you want to do, no complaints. Even the most boring thing ever seems fun to him when you’re around. He shuts his brain off and just lets you be.

If he sees you’re unsure on what to do, then he’ll be “in charge” of decisions, he’ll give ideas, opinions, until the both of you have come on one final decision.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Dabi will forgive you, after a fight/arguements when you come apologize for the harsh tone you used when you were angry, he will forgive you, he won’t hold grudges against someone who he loves the most. He understands that you never mean to hurt him, and that’s what matters to him.

Getting into fights with Dabi would be rare, you go along so well with him that fights aren’t very common among you two. But if for some reason you end up fighting, the both of you will scream at each other, and I either see Dabi leaving the room and not coming back until midnight, or if you are the type who usually cries while being yelled at, he’ll feel extremely guilty and apologize over and over again while hugging you.

In the end you always talk things through and apologize deeply to each other, especially Dabi. Even in cases when he isn’t actually “guilty”, he still apologizes, because he doesn’t want to fight with you anymore.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Dabi is beyond grateful that someone like you is in his life. He never thought that life would provide him happiness, but you are a beautiful gift that he always cherishes.

He is not the type to always express it with words, but the way he clings to you and is extremely touchy, so overprotective, the way his pupils dilate whenever he is talking to you.

There are some cases where he actually feels like expressing everything with words, and he always mentions how lucky he is to have you, how beautiful you are for him, that you’re an angel on this earth, whispers to never leave him alone.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

The only secret Dabi hides at the beginning is his true identity. Once he trusts you, that won’t be a secret anymore.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You for sure changed the way he views life. You are a walking proof to him that life can also be beautiful. His mood has gotten better with time and you helped him a lot through his mental struggles and depression. The League has noticed too that Dabi has been in a better mood and not always so stern or harsh towards others.

You helped him see that he is worthy, that he is strong and beautiful, that nobody else can dictate his worth, especially not that piece of trash called Endeavor. You were a major help to boost his confidence/ self esteem.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Dabi is extremely jealous and possessive. You better not be “too close and friendly” with Tomura. He’ll start to think that you finally got bored of him, that you’ll abandon him like everyone else did. Dabi tries to push away these thoughts, he trusts you and he knows that these thoughts only come from the dark places in his mind caused by his past trauma.

You know how a cat hisses and growls when you try to get close and catch their toy or whatever thing they have on their mouth? That’s how Dabi is like whenever some stranger talks to you or tries to get close to you. He’ll put his hand around your waist, bring you closer to him while giving a death stare to those people, scaring them off. Nobody dares to talk to you, let alone mess with you. They’re scared of Dabi, he won’t hesitate to show his possessiveness.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Dabi is a very good kisser. He doesn’t have experience in the past, but with you suddenly his lips know the right way to dance with yours, like they’re made for yours. He also is a biter too, your lower lip will always be bleeding if he gets too rough.

Dabi loves deep sloppy kisses, with spit and tongue, loves to devour your mouth, literally eating your face.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It’s the hardest thing to do,, his hands might be trembling and he tries his best to keep calm. His heartbeats get faster and he feels an uncomfortable warmth on his chest, because spilling feelings isn’t an easy thing to do. His hand always scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“I guess I care about you too much, dipshit.. ” is something he’ll say while chuckling, making it known that he actually feels a lot for you and cares about you.

Those three words won’t be said at the beginning, don’t expect Dabi to actually understand that feeling very well so he decides to not use it first. He doesn’t want to put a label to his feelings, it makes him anxious.

Though he’ll definitely say them once some time has passed and he is more than sure that what he feels for you is love.

Marriage - Do they want to get married?How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He thinks labels are stupid, but sometimes he loves calling you his “little wife”, and he melts when you call him “husband”. It makes him feel so giddy, blushing and everything, he wants to throw up.

I imagine him proposing when he takes you out near the beach when the sun is slowly going down. He is so nervous, he is sure that you’ll say yes but still…

He’ll get you a Sapphire ring, fit for a princess like you.

He’ll go down on his knees, look up at you, kiss both of your hands, and then… don’t expect him to get a box out his pocket. He’ll keep the ring between his fingers like he’s holding a cigarette.

“Will ya marry me love? Be my pretty wife forever?”

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Princess, love, baby, babygirl, doll, sweetheart, sugar.

Dipshit, silly, idiot, worm, little shit (affectionate)

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others?

Dabi is extremely obvious when he is in love. He’ll look only at you, smile only at you, is very touchy towards you, everyone can tell that he loves you.

Touch is his love language, it’s way better than words, sometimes words aren’t enough to express the way he feels about you.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Dabi doesn’t brag, but he isn’t shy either. He’ll kiss you in front of everyone, keep you on his lap, hug you or tease you. He doesn’t give a shit.

But if only someone asks him about you though, he’ll brag about you like he married some queen. In fact, that’s what you are to him.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

WARMTH!!! His quirk is the best weapon against cramps when you’re on your period, he puts his hands on your lower belly, activates his quirk and makes you feel so relaxed.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy?Cliché or rather creative?

Deep down Dabi is a hopeless romantic. If he loves you, he’ll do anything for you, from the most simple things to the most major ones. Flowers are too often, little gifts as well, whatever makes that smile appear on your face.

I see him expressing his feelings better when he writes. Dabi writes small love poems for you, sings or hums songs to you.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Dabi is your number one supporter. He’ll do his best to make himself useful to you, to help you achieve your goals, even when you tell him not to.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

From time to time Dabi might try new things, but overall he prefers a certain routine.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Dabi is very empathetic, he understands you (especially if you’ve gone through the same stuff as him).

Dabi knows you even more than you might know yourself sometimes, he helps you understand your own thoughts and feelings when everything becomes a mess.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it's worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It’s the most important thing in his world. He considers it equal to his major goal in life to burn down hero society (maybe even more important than that). He knows that your relationship won’t mess with his goals, because you support him and will do everything to see him win.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Dabi loves taking care of you, fixing your hair, dyeing it, doing random hairstyles. On a casual day if his hands aren’t around your body, they’ll be on your hair, casually playing with them as you’re talking to other League members and not paying attention.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Very affectionate. The best cuddler is Dabi. It’s his favorite activity to do with you, he needs some soft moments in his life.

He kisses you a lot, he will suffocate you, because he loves you too much.

Yearning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

Dabi will text you all the time, or facetime you. Look at your pics/ videos, smell your clothes, sleep on them. He feels empty inside, he just can’t stay away from you!

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great length for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes. He’ll go as far as burning people to death and destroying everything that threatened the peace in your relationship.

Tags: @ko-konutty @shadowsandshapes @mostlyheinous @holydayaria @keiskake @mossy-opal @dabispreciouslittlebean @dabislittlesluttyprincess @todorokistoya @drownedbytears @syrenkitsune @awalkingshame @malewifetouya @arinexeisnotworking @vjohnson696 @sukunas-bitxh @stuckbetweena-and-z @cherryflavoredkissess @bakugoukatsukiwifiu

#B.writes #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi todoroki #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader

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aohisworld · 7 days

Text

BROKEN CD

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ when the world picks on Aohi, she crumbles gently, and Ri-ki’s there to put her back together, piece by piece.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ nishimura ri-ki x addedmember!oc. mentions of poly!ot7 x addedmember!oc, contains. cringe writing, angst (as always).

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: a little self-indulgent because I feel like poopoo honestly 😞 I apologize if this mini- drabble? fic? Is short, I really barely have any time to write to my pieces, and I can only offer you guys these small little fics 😭

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun.

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭No one’s a stranger to the familiar feeling of coming back down from a successful peak, the sudden feeling of clouded thoughts or the slow burn-out of your sociality or productivity being a familiar dull sting to your body and mind.

And sometimes you can’t understand just why you have to burn out, and with that comes along frustrations, anger, the tantrums inside your mind when nothing goes your way when you’ve already had a bad day.

Aohi’s world dulls to grey for a little while, the exhausting schedule and the upcoming recording for memorabilia took a lot out of her.

All she wanted was to sleep, maybe for a week straight, if she could, she’d hibernate like a bear. Aohi knows she can’t though, engenes would miss her too much.

Despite her frustrations with the slightly wrong tones or the wrong words being sung out, she trudges on, continuing to work, to rewrite, to practice.

She’s repaid by the loss of her voice, and recording’s been pulled back a week later due to the sudden situation. Aohi sits in her seat speechless when her manager explains it on the way to the studio.

“But then, why am I going if I’m being put on vocal rest?” Aohi’s voice croaks out. In a comical way, she sounded like a Justin Bieber when he was in his teens, cracking and going airy from time to time.

“I didn’t want you to come in either, but the studio was insistent on it,” Aohi groans, despite how hurtful it was on her throat. “Trust me, I tried to fight for a day off, all I could do was move your session to a later time tomorrow.”

“I can’t even do anything at the studio, the whole point of a vocal rest is so I could rest!”

“First off, stop yelling, don’t use your voice-“ Her manager looked up at the rear view mirror, shooting her a glance that told Aohi to fix her attitude.

"Second, just get through this recording, it'll be over before you know it.."

Aohi just rolled her eyes, feeling already irked that she had to come in today. Aohi stared out the window as she ended up tuning out her manager’s voice and locking herself inside her mind.

There wasn’t much to do for her especially when she had a sore throat, even if she could, Aohi doubts her current health would even be able to keep up with anything.

“Aohi, let’s go.” Her manager could be heard unbuckling her seatbelt, Aohi following. Aohi grabbed her phone and opened her car door, squinting at the bright sun.

Her instant response to the sudden rays was to put up her hoodie, entering the studio.

“Batsy!” Sunoo chirps, reaching for the girl before any of the other guys could call for her, and with her call, Aohi gravitates towards Sunoo, his arms taking her in like a cuddly bear.

“I missed you..” Aohi mumbled into his clothes, and Sunoo just hums and kisses her forehead, “gonna keep with the PDA or are we actually recording?” Xiulin amusingly spoke from behind the two.

And it would’ve been funny, if Aohi hadn’t hissed back at her. “Unnie, respectfully shut up.” Aohi replied with a hoarse voice, and Sunoo was taken aback by her sudden reply. Xiulin must’ve been as well, looking at Aohi with widened eyes.

Aohi’s furrowed brows seemed to soften after realizing the stunned faces across the room, and she sighs, pulling away from Sunoo.

“Sorry, unnie… i just… don’t feel well.” Aohi walks into the studio booth trying to rubbing her temple with a frown. Xiulin was still waiting out her aftershock as she just watched her dongsaeng walk away.

“What’s her problem?” Ri-ki pointed his thumb at Aohi inside the booth, looking towards the boys who looked equally confused. “I know manager-nim said she wasn’t feeling well… but she’s never snapped at me like that before.” Xiulin frowns at the booth door, rubbing at her neck in discomfort.

“It’s okay noona, I’m sure Aohi just didn’t feel up to the teasing, you know how she is..” Jungwon tries to ease Xiulin’s feelings, patting the older girl’s back to comfort her.

“We’ll talk to her, don’t worry.” Sunoo added, giving Xiulin a gentle and reassuring smile as the group trailed into the booth.

Aohi sat in one of the couches, trying keep to herself, quietly playing on her phone. The boys looked to each other, trying to figure out how to approach the girl without already irking her more than she already was.

“Heeseung-ssi, Xiulin-ssi, we can record your lines now.” One of the producers called the eldest of the hyung and maknae line to come in, and Xiulin glanced at Aohi, who glances at her and Heeseung.

Aohi quickly darts her gaze back onto her phone as she tries to focus on her games, trying to get the day to go by faster.

Xiulin sighs, looking towards Heeseung who was already waiting by the booth, he mouths to her as if to tell her, that the boys will handle it while they’re gone, and not to worry too much.

Jay decides to make a move towards Aohi, sitting beside her with caution. Aohi squirms at the sudden dip in the couch, but refuses to look up anyway.

“Batsy.. look at me, baby..” Jay encouraged, his hands gently reaching for her tense ones. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?.. we just want to help, Aohi, baby.” Aohi feels rather suffocated in Jay’s hold, and she knows he doesn’t mean to cage her in, but she feels like she can’t breathe.

Aohi shakes her head, trying to pull away from his hold, and Jay’s eyebrow twitches, his first indication that something was worse than just annoyance or tiredness. She mumbled something that Jay couldn’t decipher, he leans even closer.

Jay knew that even if Aohi was annoyed, she’d never turn down any of his hugs, even going as far to tell him that he’s the best at cuddling besides Ri-ki.

“Look at me, Batsy.” Jay reaches for her face, his gentle fingers barely touching her cheeks when Aohi slaps them away. “I told you to leave me alone!” Aohi’s voice croaks loudly, and Jake stands up from his spot in the room.

Her hand reaches to push Jay away, who seemed hurt at the way Aohi raises her voice at him. Despite being scolded by Aohi before, it never sounded worse like it did at this moment.

Aohi’s hand is stopped by Jake’s hand around her wrist, and her attention’s turned from Jay to Jake, trying to pull her wrist away from him.

“Let go!”

“Aohi, that’s enough! We’re just trying to help you!” Jake holds her tighter, and Aohi squeezes her eyes tight, letting out a sob. “I don’t want your help!” Aohi stands up from her spot, shoving Jake away.

Jake toppled over a few instruments, hissing at the impact. “Hyung!” Jungwon and Sunghoon quickly stood up, rushing to Jake’s side. Aohi’s breath hitches, and she sniffles, glancing around, Sunoo and Ri-ki looking at her with disbelief.

Aohi could feel her heart beating with intensity as she only looks for her only escape, running out of the room to the front door.

She has no idea where to run, but her legs certainly aren’t stopping, Aohi doesn’t register which way she goes, turning all sorts of corners, and the sun blinding her.

Soon enough, her body stops running, and Aohi has no clue where she is, she sits on a random bench, the area seemed deserted, some patches of weed growing through the brick path she ran down on.

Aohi brings her legs up on the bench, and she remembers that she’s left her phone at the studio with everyone else, and the air doesn’t do much to calm her.

She digs her face into her knees, and she could feel the familiar sting of tears in her eyes and she squeals into her knees, as if angry that she’s crying.

Aohi has no idea why she’s been so upset lately, maybe she needed to be alone for a while, or maybe Aohi felt like the world hasn’t been so nice to her lately. She’s tired, so tired.

Aohi just wanted to rest for a little while, and she can’t do that when her company wants her to go to these recordings despite putting her on vocal rest.

Aohi can’t afford to go home right now either, for one, she has no clue where she is and Aohi knows that she needs a ride to even get back to the apartments.

She only whimpers, and lets herself cry into her arms, pitiful sobs leaving like a lullaby from her lips. Aohi’s back shakes as her sobs continue, and she realizes that she can’t even stop herself or quiet herself.

And in an ironic way, the world sends a somewhat comforting breeze to her side, despite being certainly mean to her the couple of days, Aohi takes the breeze with gusto, sniffling as she’s blanketed with the wind.

Aohi cries her pretty little heart out in a deserted part of this random park, and she cries and cries until her eyes tire out, Aohi can feel the creeping tiredness loom over her as her eyes don’t fight the urge to close, to get sleep.

She just lets it happen as her eyes blanket her vision with darkness, and she sniffles once more, the need to sleep heavy and she doesn’t fight.

The sun’s starting to come down, and Aohi can barely register the muffled call of her name. Aohi could feel the approaching headache from dehydration, obviously from crying her eyes out the previous hours, but she looks up anyway.

“Aohi.. wake up, damn it..” Ri-ki curses, and he sits beside her balled figure on the bench, he runs his hands through his hair, sighing out of worry and concern.

“nini…” Aohi mumbled out, and her voice is still coarse, maybe even worse than it was the last time Ri-ki heard it. Ri-ki stops himself from softening at the nickname she calls him, one that she got from other fan accounts on Twitter, thinking it was adorable.

“Do you know how fucking worried we were?…” Ri-ki breathlessly spoke, and he gently placed a hand on her cheek, his eyebrows furrowed. Aohi whimpered, digging her cheek into his palm anyway.

“I’m sorry, nini…” Ri-ki curses under his breath, and he takes off his jacket, placing it over Aohi’s body, he felt the alarming heat of her body on his palm, he stands up from the bench and takes his arms under Aohi’s knees and supporting her back.

He lifts her up with a huff, carrying Aohi bridal style. “Don’t think just because you’re sick means you’re off the hook for running like that.” Ri-ki walks down the familiar path, the sun was going down and soon enough, he won’t be able to see the path out of the deserted park.

“You worried the fuck out of everyone… Jay and Jake were out in the cold for hours, you left your phone so we couldn’t even…” Ri-ki blinked his tears away, the worry and the thought that something could’ve happened to Aohi overwhelming him.

“We couldn’t track you down, and who knows where the hell you could’ve gone?…” Aohi, despite being too tired out of her mind and sleepy, felt guilty anyways, she felt stupid for running then, and she still felt stupid now.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t find you… hell, what would we tell the engenes? you hate disappointing them..” Ri-ki grits his teeth, it takes a little while for them to regroup with the others, and Ri-ki had gone silent from walking for a bit and he finally walks out to a familiar path, seeing the boys and Xiulin waiting anxiously by the van.

“You found her!" Heeseung sighed in relief, jogging up to the two, Aohi seemed to knock out on the walk, and Heeseung reaches to check on her.

"She's burning.." Heeseung curses, and he walks to the van and opens the door, "Let's get her home before she gets worse." Sunoo agrees, nodding as he climbs into the vehicle, helping Ri-ki climb in with Aohi in his hold.

"Careful.. she's going to bump her head.." Sunoo whispers, placing his hands on her head, looking at Aohi with worry in his eyes.

The boys and Xiulin are silently driven home by their staff, and they all apologize to the staff member for keeping them waiting as Ri-ki, bowed, before walking up to the apartment.

"Ri-ki-yah.. I can carry her.." Sunghoon offered from beside him, and he shakes his head, just continuing to walk up to their dormitory, which Jungwon opens for the youngest.

"Wait! You should bring her to our dorm, I can't take care of her from your dorms.." Xiulin voiced, and the boys turn to her, "Noona, don't worry about it, I'm sure you're tired, me and the hyungs will take care of her." Ri-ki shoots their eldest girl a reassuring look, and Xiulin can't help but sigh.

"But-" Jay shakes his head, asking Xiulin not to fight them on it, "You can trust us, Xiu, don't worry." Xiulin softly frowns, but she couldn't go up against seven boys, even if she wanted to.

"Okay, just.. make sure she gets some rest..." Xiulin reaches over and places a small kiss on Aohi's burning forehead, a quiet goodbye as she recovers in the boys' dorms.

The boys and Xiulin part from the stairs, and Aohi's brought into the boys' dorms, they all have separate rooms now, the countless complaints from singer to manager had worked, and given them some sort of privacy.

Ri-ki makes a quick move to place her onto his bed, tucking her with record-breaking speed, trying to keep her warm, feeling Aohi shiver all throughout the car ride.

Despite his worry, he still feels sour about earlier, knowing Aohi wasn't feeling well, and her mood was not best, did not excuse the fact that she ran off, and for hours they couldn't find her.

"I'll go grab a rag for her fever.." Sunoo whispers from beside Ri-ki, patting the youngest's back in comfort before leaving the room. The rest of the boys seemed to follow after Sunoo, quiet excuses pouring from all of their lips.

"We'll get dinner started, make her some food.." Jay and Jungwon walked out together, and Sunghoon runs his hand through his face, "We'll give you some space.." Heeseung pulls Sunghoon with him, who seems hesitant to leave Aohi's side.

"How could you be so reckless, batsy?" Ri-ki whispered, his tone scolding. For once, he was babying Aohi without any complaint. Well, not that she could anyway. "I thought something had happened to you.. and I wouldn't of been there..."

Ri-ki sat by her side for a while, he repositioned to the ground, gently rubbing his thumb against Aohi's palm. A calming gesture for both of them. He quietly watches Aohi's sleeping figure, and despite the underlying cringe from him, feeling creepy for watching her, he couldn't help but worry, truly.

"...I would've lost it.. batsy, I need you," Ri-ki whispers, and it seems like every time they were by themselves, he starts to speak in Japanese, like he's at his most vulnerable with her. "I need you like water, my love.." He continues his sentence, hoping she'll awake for a little bit.

Like a miracle, Aohi twitches from her sleep, and she lets out a quiet groan, her eyes fluttering from her nap, and she's faced with the familiar ceiling of Ri-ki's room. She calls for him with a broken voice.

"Nini..." And Ri-ki makes a move, sitting up on his knees to coo at her silently, "I'm here, lovely.." He feels Aohi's hand squeeze his, and he feels himself relax. Ri-ki is relieved, comforted by Aohi's presence.

"Why.. would you go look for me..?" Aohi croaks from her spot, looking at Ri-ki with a hurt expression, and he's almost confused on why she would ask such a question. "Why wouldn't we?.." Ri-ki tilts his head, his thumb makes comforting swipes at the back of Aohi's hand.

"You could've gotten sick.. stupid.." Aohi tries to flick up at Ri-ki's forehead, and he shakes his head, making her drop her hand. "I don't care about getting sick, I care about finding you." He replies, and Aohi sighs, turning her head from Ri-ki to the wall.

"I hate when you say stuff like that.." Aohi whispers, and Ri-ki is confused, sure, his words would fluster the girl, but her? Hating such words from him when she was as affectionate as him?

"Why? You and I both know it's true," Ri-ki responds, and Aohi makes a move to almost throw a slight action of defiance. "And that's what I hate about it, I hate that you're willing to break your back as long as I'm with you.."

"And it's the same for the other boys, and I love that you love me so much," Ri-ki listens, despite his dislike for where the conversation was heading, "and I love you all the same, if not more, but I hate that you'd disregard your own well-being for me.. I wish I wasn't that important to you.. any of you."

"How could you say that?" Ri-ki asks, standing up from his spot and sitting on the bed, and Aohi sits up from her spot, "Ri-ki, how could I not? Hell, you gave me your jacket even when you knew it was cold.."

"You're always bending over backwards for me, and I wish you'd be a little more concerned with yourself." Aohi looks towards him and Ri-ki furrows his eyebrows. "You're the same way."

Aohi stays silent, "It's the way I am.." Aohi fiddles with her fingers, looking down at her lap. "And so what? You think we should just take and take, and you get nothing in return for yourself?" Ri-ki assumes, and Aohi looks to argue, to deny, but words don't come out of her mouth.

Ri-ki waits for a reply from Aohi and when she doesn't seem to speak, he continues. "What's the point of us dating you if we'll just be selfish while you break like this?" Aohi still doesn't reply, and she knows there's nothing she could say to fix her words, and what she meant.

"Are we even your boyfriends that way?" Aohi finally moves from her spot, "Of course you are! I just don't want you to be so consumed with being with me that you just.." Aohi brings her hands to her face, "It feels like you have to take care of me all of the time, and I'm just.."

"I don't want any of you to help me because it's not your job, I should be able to do this myself!" Aohi sobbed, and Ri-ki feels angrier than before.

“if you didn’t want any of us to help you when you’re crumbling like this then why are you still dating us?!” Ri-ki yells, and it’s the first time in a while that Aohi had heard him so loud.

Aohi blinks at him and for once she’s surprised of the way Ri-ki stared at her with angry tears. Ri-ki was angry at her.

“Are you angry at me?…” She whispers, and Aohi doesn’t miss the way her voice quivers as she asks this to Ri-ki who turns away from her.

“You don’t know how much it hurts when we see you like this… when I see you like this.” Ri-ki sobbed, his fists grab at his hair, and Aohi makes a move to stop him, knowing it’ll hurt.

“I feel like the worst fucking boyfriend when I see you fall apart like dust and I can’t help you.”

Aohi doesn’t say a word more, unable to reply. Her tears cascaded down her cheeks and she pulls Ri-ki into her arms. “I’m sorry.” She repeats like a mantra.

And it seems like Ri-ki breaks alongside Aohi, and she starts to think that maybe the world was a little too cruel on both of them, or maybe she was being too cruel on him, on all of them.

how could she fix this now?

"I'm sorry nini... I didn't mean to make you feel like that.. I just... feel awful and I've been too cruel.." Aohi holds Ri-ki tightly, and she could feel her hoodie starts to dampen with the boy's tears.

"I'm so sorry... I feel like the worst girlfriend to you... you don't even know nini.." Aohi hugs Ri-ki like she could never let go, and she knows she would never.

"Then help me know, I want to, let me understand, let me help.." Ri-ki begged from her, and Aohi feels worse than she already did.

Aohi places a gentle kiss on his forehead, continuing her apologies. Ri-ki seems to cry for forever he felt like, he just couldn't stop, and his fingers had gone red from how tightly he held Aohi in his arms.

"You don't deserve such a cruel girl like me.." She whispers, lifting Ri-ki's face, wiping at the streaks on his cheeks, and with a quiet voice, Ri-ki speaks, "I want you anyway, I'll always want to be with you, even if you don't."

"How did I score someone like you, hm, nini?" Aohi laughed through her own tears. "I don't know, but you're never getting rid of me." Ri-ki replies, before taking Aohi's cheeks in his hands and laying a gentle kiss on her lips.

The two's lips intertwined like perfect puzzle pieces, Aohi's hand reaching to cup Ri-ki's in a warmth he'll never deny. Aohi thinks that she could never get used to how warm Ri-ki's lips were, always comforting her in ways she could never do herself.

The two pull away, and Aohi almost chases after Ri-ki, already missing him so close to her.

"...I love you, so much." Aohi spoke after a while, using her hoodie sleeve to wipe at her nose, and Ri-ki laughs, grabbing a tissue from his bedside, "Don't wipe it on your hoodie, batsy.."

"I really do love you though, you know that right?" Ri-ki smiles, and nods, wiping at Aohi's tears. "aigoo... you big baby.." Ri-ki kisses at her nose, and Aohi squeals at the ticklish feeling.

"You cried too! I'm not the only big baby!" Aohi retorts, gently slapping Ri-ki's shoulder, the two continued to giggle for a little before they quiet down, the only evidence of their silly behaviour being their smiles.

"Don't ever be scared to crumble, we'll be here to pick you back up... just like you are for us.." Ri-ki hugs her tightly one more time, and Aohi's never felt as loved as she was with the boys, and it makes her realize how much she could never actually live without these boys.

"So.. how does soup sound?"

"Sounds lovely, nini."

"Good, you're going to have to apologize to Jay-hyung and Jake-hyung, they've been sulking since this afternoon." - "Oh... about that.."

#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑶𝑯𝑰!#enhypen #enhypen 8th member #enhypen added member #enhypen addition #enhypen au #kpop added member #kpop oc #kpop addition #enhypen female member #enhypen fem oc #enhypen ot7 #enhypen x oc #enhypen x fem oc

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hibiscuswrites · 3 months

Note

If you have the time, could I please request a HC/would include of Ray accidentally dialing the wrong number and it ends up being his future SO? Like maybe he’s in jail and they start talking by accident and it’s a super slow process but they begin to trust each other and end up meeting/falling in love? 🌺

This idea fucked. me. up.

He was just trying to call his boy

Blow off some steam

Shoot the shit before his time ran out and he had to go back to his cell

He was scratching at the paint on the phone while he waited, hearing the line click and expecting to hear the deep voice of his friend

But instead its a much softer voice

One he's never heard before

"Hello?"

And his brows knit because who the fuck is this?

He doesn't have to wonder long though

"Uh, hi. Ray was it? Yeah uh, you have the wrong number. Sorry. I didn't want to hang up before the call connected so you wouldn't waste your time calling again and again. Not sure who you're trying to reach but...this isn't them."

Your laugh is awkward yet...endearing

Soft and light

Such a contrast to what he hears in here

Not to mention, he hasn't had a woman laugh in his ear in quite some time

Even if it's through this shitty phone

He chuckles himself and leans against the wall

"Yeah, I guess not. Tony could never sound so beautiful."

You laugh again and Ray smiles on instinct at the sound

Shocked that you haven't hung up yet

You knew he was an inmate

The collect call always tells you ahead of time

So that meant you stayed on the call and accepted anyway

Just like you said, so he wouldn't waste his call time

And the thought is so selfless that he doesn't wanna hang up

He expects you to though

So he lies

"Well, they don't really let us call another number once we dial. We only get the five minutes with one number. If they don't pick up or we get cut off, tough shit. So maybe we could talk for the next...four minutes and 20 seconds?"

It's a shot in the dark and he's 100% expecting the line to click

"Oh, well...ok. Not sure what you want to talk about, stranger."

You laugh again and so does he

"What's your name?"

The silence stretches for a bit and Ray winces, feeling like he fucked it up

"Nevermind, it's all good. I'll call you Sunshine, since that's how your voice sounds."

He knows it is ridiculous

Spitting game to a girl he doesn't know and will never speak to again, but it's enough to pass the time

Your laugh is sweet like honey when it passes through the receiver and even though he has no idea what you look like, he can almost see you roll your eyes

"Smooth talker, I see."

"I try."

The rest of the call goes by the same, him flirting gently and you laughing until the automated voice signals that the call is going to end in 30 seconds

And against his better judgment, he calls again the next day

And you pick up again

The days pass like that, his light flirting and you entertaining him

He asks what you ate today and you tell him in elaborate detail to where he can almost taste it

Asks what the weather is like and your words are so vivid, it paints the picture for him to where he feels like he can see through your eyes

He longs and yearns for your voice and talks

Soon enough, you've been talking every day, him getting your name and stopping with the flirting once he realizes that he's actually into you

And the days turn into weeks

Weeks into months

You send him a picture of yourself, praying that doing so isn't a mistake

And he sends you one back of himself

You write letters to each other

Video calls when he can

He has another inmate paint a portrait of you and sends it as a gift

And before either of you realize, his release date is coming up

He extends the offer to see if you'd be willing to meet him, and even though he wants to, he wouldn't be hurt or offended if you refused

Proud and understanding of your apprehension

So he offers to meet in a crowded public place if you're willing and you are

Both of you sporting each other under the bright sun in the local farmers market

Your eyes brighter than he ever could've imagined

Your smile enough to make his heart feel like a puddle of warm butter

He stands before you and stuffs his hands into his pockets, itching to touch you but not daring to

"Hi, Sunshine."

And the twinkle in your eye as you gaze at him is enough to convince him that punching the number in wrong that day was the best mistake he's ever made

"Hi, Stranger."

General taglist

@titty-teetee @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

Ray Merrimen taglist @effie365

#🌺 anon #headcannons #ray merrimen #den of thieves #ray merrimen x reader #pablo schreiber

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heretherebedork · 8 months

Text

My favorite part here is that while Boston starts out playing innocent, like he has no idea, like this is all just something so easy that he did and that's over and now everyone can be happy, right?! Right!? That's all! No big deal!

But it's all a lie. Just a lie, lie, lie, lie.

This, right here, is so important. Because Ray has fully accepted that Top and Mew are in love. He has. He had to. He knows that Mew loves Top and for all that Boston accuses him as wanting to be the rebound... Ray will actually go out of his way to insure that can't happen when he outs all of this in the bar. He goes out of his way to not set himself up as a rebound.

I love how Boston changes tactics here. He's just trying to figure out what keeps this quiet and what gets Ray on his side (or at least gets him under Ray's skin so he can make this stop) at least enough not to bring this up to Mew. Boston is just trying to figure out which manipulation tactic will work. And he jumps between them so fast.

Only to realize that Ray is on the attack and that his tactics aren't working because, this time, it's not about hurting Ray. It's about hurting Mew.

Boom. The smile. The truth. Well, as much of the truth as Boston ever uses. Boston is going to drag Ray down to his level and he is going to force him to face that he is just as bad.

Boston goes for Ray's jugular every single time. He knows his weakest spot and he has no hesitation to attack right where it'll hurt the most, where it's most likely to make Ray stop and shut down.

But he really misjudged this one. He pushed too hard and too far.

And what he did here is set Ray up to raze the ground and burn it all done. Because if what he does doesn't matter and makes him evil... then he'll do it all.

Boston dug this grave all by himself and he doesn't even realize that when you push someone down to rock bottom... you have to fall too if you're gonna rub dirt of their face.

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Text

swimming into you . bob

PART ONE : he's so pretty (when he goes down on me)

pairing ; bob floyd x female!reader

synopsis ; things between you and Bob are strictly business: he’s your backseater, and that’s all there is. Until he offers to help you let off some steam and you find out just how pretty he looks between your thighs…

wc ; 6k

warnings ; 18+ only; explicit language, angst, panic attack, reader definitely has PTSD, mentions of past character death

note: this has no smut which might be a surprise after the first part, sorry. but this needed off my chest, so... idk. i hope you enjoy it anyway, please don't be disappointed

desertsagecelestial aka sol i STILL owe you my life

Your life is a downward spiral, a maelstrom that pulls you ever deeper towards rock bottom, a rollercoaster on an eternal decline, a plane mid-crash, a…

“I swear to god, Spec, you’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” Phoenix says, squinting at you over the rims of her sunglasses. “And I know Hangman personally.”

You can’t answer because you’re staring at those Ray Bans, and it’s making you think of Bob’s glasses in that bathroom, lenses fogged up, metal pressing against your naked skin, makes you think of sliding them up his nose, and then you’re thinking of his fingers and his tongue and his voice against you, and…

“Bro, are you dissociating?” Phoenix has tilted her head sideways. “Do I need to get you a doctor? What the hell is going on?”

It’s a sunny day, but that’s not surprising in California. You’re in the common room, lounging on nondescript beige couches. Outside the glass front, somewhere in the sky, Rooster and Hangman try and fail to shoot down Maverick. The radio crackles with the static of their comms, spitting out their taunts in endless circles nobody listens to anyway.

The other pilots are on standby in the hangar, and Bob is… god knows where. You hate that you’re so attuned to his every move now you notice even when you don’t know where he is. Part of you wants to write it off as the blind loyalty that comes with flying a two-seater, but you know that’s not true.

For a moment, you just look at Phoenix. Then you say, “Do you think Bob is good in bed?”

She blinks at you. A moment passes, then another, then…

“Specter, what the fuck?!”

You shrug. “I’m just asking.”

“Jesus.” Phoenix rubs the balls of her hands across her eyes like her head is about to split apart. “Why would you ever ask that?”

Because he ate me out in the Hard Deck’s handicapped bathroom, and I think it broke my brain, permanently altered my body chemistry, changed my actual life…

“Just… I don’t know. I was wondering.”

“Well, stop wondering,” she suggests. Then she gives you a suspicious look. “Did something happen between you two?”

You turn your gaze to the window, to the contrails like smoke signals on the canvas of the skies, to the roaring of engines that’s become your lullaby, to the sight of Bob crossing the airfield. Something in your chest hurts. Everywhere you look, he’s already there.

“No,” you say. “Nothing happened.”

The first time you met Bob, you looked right past him. There were bigger fish to fry here and bigger things to look out for, and Hangman was grinning at you and saying something stupid, so you walked by him without even realizing he was there.

He’s got a habit of that - flying under the radar.

“Yo, Specter.” Phoenix draped herself around you, pulled you against her chest. You were both giddy to see each other again, to fly together once more. “This is Bob. He’s your new backseater.”

You don’t remember much. Remember only that he wore glasses and was smiling at you with something eager, something hopeful about his face. Remember looking away immediately, nodding once.

“Don’t try to get in my way up there,” you told him, and then you turned away to beat Hangman at darts.

Ignoring the way his face fell. Ignoring Phoenix nudging you. Ignoring the sinking, tumbling, crashing feeling in your chest.

It was the beginning of the end, and you knew even then.

Sometimes you think Rooster knows.

He’s always been kind to you, kind enough to keep you hoping at the same time it tells you not to dream too much. He’s kind to everyone, anyway.

“Why’d you wanna be a pilot?” he asks, waving down a bartender and putting both your drinks on his tab.

For a moment, you think about telling him the truth. All my life, I’ve been dreaming of flying away. All my life, I’ve been dreaming of escape.

It seems too much. You’ve never told anyone.

So you just shrug, take a swig of your beer, and say, “I like the thrill.”

Rooster laughs. “I know what you mean,” he agrees, winks, knocks his bottle against yours.

And just like that, the door is opened again. You dream the dream a little longer.

Part of the Rooster appeal, part of why you suspect your crush is so persistent, is that there’s no way it’ll ever happen. All of the thrill of the fall, with none of the fear of the impact.

“We need to talk about it.”

You’re fastening your helmet as you stride across the runway towards your plane. Maybe if you walk fast enough, you’ll be able to shake him.

“No,” you growl, but it’s diminished by the fact that you’ve been struggling with your clasp for a good minute. Your fingers are shaking too hard for you to get a steady grip.

Bob hastens his steps and catches up with you easily. His shoulder rubs against your own, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Specter,” he begins, but you cut him off.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Floyd.” It doesn’t matter how angry you sound. It doesn’t matter how the irritation boils and burns in you. Inevitably, inexplicably, your mouth always begins to form the Big Boy anyway, and then you’re back in that bathroom, back with him, and in your head, you pull him closer instead of pushing him away, and something about it makes you feel like crying. “It doesn’t matter.”

You stop by the plane. Bob’s lips purse, and he looks down at his feet, shoulders pulled almost all the way up to his ears.

“I just think…” he begins, then stops himself.

Payback and Fanboy walk past, getting to their own aircraft, and they’re laughing and chatting—jovial, easy, light-hearted. You envy them. You can’t remember the last time things didn’t feel heavy to you.

Only that’s a lie too. You do remember. It was with Bob Floyd’s face buried in your pussy and your mind somewhere off in the stratosphere.

“Shit,” you curse, frustration coursing through you, fingers still fumbling with the damned clasp, and fuck it all, you just want to fly, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to feel, you just…

Bob knocks your fingers out of the way and closes the clasp for you. Suddenly, he’s so close you can smell him again—your chest burns.

“Specter,” he says, voice soft, “we need to discuss it.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“You promised we wouldn’t talk about it,” you whisper. He seems to want to say something else, but you can’t. You just can’t do it. The fear is there, and it’s making your head spin. “Please, Bob.”

Something about those words is choked. Raw.

He looks at you for a moment, brows furrowed, eyes gentle, and then he nods. Steps away. Doesn’t say anything else.

You climb into the plane and wonder when, oh, when, did it all get so complicated.

Phoenix looks at you like she thinks you’re going to fall apart right where you sit. You hate it.

“You can talk to me, you know?” she says softly, leaning across the table in the mess hall, deep enough her chest almost ends up in the mashed potatoes. “You don’t always have to keep everything inside, Spec.”

It’s not true. That’s your first thought. You can’t talk to her, can’t talk to Bob, can’t talk to anyone. No one, you know this, is going to understand you now.

Your second thought is that you’re a horrible person. Phoenix is kind and genuinely wants to be your friend. She’s been extending hands across canyons for years now. But you just can’t take them. Too afraid you’ll drag her down into the drop with you.

“I hooked up with Bob,” you say, even though you should be telling her something else.

She obviously doesn’t know what to say to that. Opens her mouth just to close it again. Then finally settles on, “Why?”

Part of you wants to say you were the one who told me to let off steam. But this one, you can’t blame it on her. Can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug.

But you do know. That’s the problem.

You think of him on his knees in that bathroom. You think of him at your back in the air. How he breaks you apart. How he puts you back together.

“You know,” Phoenix says after an incredibly long time. “I always thought you had a crush on Rooster.”

It makes you laugh, even though it isn’t funny. Not even a little. Not even at all.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, so did I.”

“So, Bob,” Hangman says, grinning in a way you can’t describe as anything other than villainous. If he, too, had a mustache, he’d be twirling it right about now. “Who do you prefer flying with: Phoenix or Specter?”

This was a horrible idea. Evenings at the Hard Deck should be barred for you from now on.

“Oh, come on,” you groan, going for nonchalance even as something inside you goes taut.

Bob looks decidedly uncomfortable, twisting his beer bottle around in his hands, fiddling with the soggy label, not looking at anyone.

“Uhm.” He shrugs. “They’re both good.”

Hangman’s having none of it.

“Nah, nah, nah, none of that diplomacy shit, Floyd. Gotta pick one.”

Coyote, always the shit-stirrer, claps a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Yeah, bro. Who’s your best girl?”

Before responding, Bob casts his eyes down towards the floor, clears his throat. His glasses are riding low on his nose again, and you sink your fingernails into your palms to stifle the instinct to reach over and push them up for him.

“I guess… well, Phoenix is more consistent. Specter always… she’s a…. she’s a li…”

“Say it.” The words just burst from you before you can remember deciding to say them. Bob looks up then, eyes wide and face open. Your voice is venomous, and you feel like a rattlesnake about to strike. “A liability. That’s what you wanted to say, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Bob and you just stare at each other.

“I didn’t say that,” he says, voice gone soft. He’s going translucent as you speak, blending back into the chaos of the crowd.

“You didn’t have to.”

Everybody’s staring at you, but you keep your chin held high.

“I’m going home,” you say, and then you leave.

“You’re going too steep.”

Bob doesn’t have much hope that you’ll listen to him. You never do, apparently, unless he’s got you pinned to public bathroom doors.

It’s like a fever dream to him now, that night. Impossible that he was ever so close to you when all there is between you these days is distance and feelings tangled like thickets of thorns. When you won’t talk to him and won’t look at him, when it doesn’t matter what he says or asks.

Unsurprisingly, your answer is almost instantaneous. “We’re fine.”

The first time Bob met you, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

You were beautiful, in your uniform, under the bar lights. Beautiful and bright and brilliant and as decidedly out of his reach as the moon. You didn’t even look at him twice, not even after Phoenix introduced you. Drifted into his life and out of it like the specter that gave you your callsign.

And Bob never believed in love at first sight, still doesn’t, but there was something there, something beneath the thin veneer of arrogance you wore, you still wear. Something just under the surface, he thinks nobody but him sees—something he wants to keep as his secret.

You’re brilliant. The best pilot he’s ever met (even if half his friend group would balk at the idea), determined, clever, cut-throat. Stubborn to a fault. Witty and funny and always ready to stand up for yourself. The complete opposite of him.

Most of the time it’s admiration and curiosity, and then sometimes, it’s something else. When you slip from untouchable Ice Queen to something softer, when you lose yourself in the sky, in a book, in his touch in a bathroom at the Hard Deck… when you feel like nobody’s looking, that’s when Bob thinks he might love you.

Bob is a pilot. He gets up into that sky, and sometimes he deludes himself into thinking one day, one day, he’ll fly high enough, stretch far enough, and then finally, he’ll reach that moon. It’ll never happen, of course. The moon stays firm, beautiful and bright and brilliant, and achingly, eternally lonely. Never his to have.

The plane keeps climbing, steady, steady, steady, and Bob can barely breathe.

“Specter,” he chokes out. “Come on, girl.”

And then suddenly, abruptly, tipping like a pendulum, the plane falls. It’s an almost artful arch at the beginning, a ballerina angling her body towards the ground in a jump, and it leaves his stomach hanging somewhere above his head.

Then something changes. You keep falling.

“Specter, time to pull up,” Bob says, twisting to try and find Mav. Where is he?

There’s no answer.

“Specter,” he repeats, thinking you’re ignoring him for another reckless stunt, for another moment of you trying to recapture glory.

Still, you don’t respond, and that’s when he realizes something is horribly, terribly, awfully wrong.

“Specter!” he calls a third time, and now there’s a note of panic creeping into his voice he’s sure the others can pick up on over the coms. “Specter, you with me?”

The ground keeps hurtling closer. You keep silent.

“Bob.” That’s Mav’s voice, over the comms, right in his ear. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Bob gasps, and he’s breathless, he’s chafing, he’s… “She’s not… Specter!”

“Is she in g-Loc?” Rooster asks.

Rooster, Bob thinks. He twists, searching the horizon for his friend, but he can barely see anything. His vision has gone blurry.

And you’re still, still, still spinning towards the ground.

“Specter,” Bob says again, and he’s never known fear like this before. Not the first time he flew on his own. Not when he and Natasha had to punch out. Not when Mav and Rooster went down. Not ever. “Specter!”

And then he’s just saying your name, your real name, your first name, the one he’s said a million times in his head and never out loud, straining against all the buckles as if he can reach you, stretching out his arm over a distance impossible to breach.

“Bob!” That’s Rooster again. “Bob, you gotta punch out, you gotta eject now!”

I can’t leave her. That’s all he thinks. I can’t leave her, I can’t leave her, I can’t…

And Bob isn’t religious, never has been, but he’s saying, “Please, wake her up, please, God, I’ll do anything, please wake her up, please….”

You come to with a gasp like tires screeching on the asphalt, like a choir of angels or something, and then you’re pulling up, you’re getting the plane back on track, you’re…

In his ear, you’re saying, “Sorry. I… sorry.”

Bob sobs.

He knows you won’t acknowledge it before you land. He knows you’ll play it off, smile about it, laugh like nothing happened.

But he saw the tremor of your hands. He heard the fear in your voice. You can’t hide because he’s seen too much of you. Because he knows you, even if you don’t want him to.

“Specter,” he says, racing after you across the runway towards the hangar.

Everybody’s there, standing in a crowd near the doors. Pale faces, drawn with a panic that should be familiar by now, that’s part of this job. A panic nobody ever gets used to.

“I’m fine,” you say. You’re smiling, but it’s strained, and it’s a lie. He knows it is.

And Bob is angry. Angrier than he’s ever been with you because it’s not fair, not fair that you’re shutting him out, always shutting him out when all he wants is to hold you, be there for you, love you…

“You almost died!” Bob calls, voice rising, and he’s pretty sure there are still tears on his face. At least his cheeks feel wet.

Everybody’s looking at him. He can feel their eyes on him.

Usually, it would be enough to make him want to draw his head all the way between his shoulder blades, but not right now. Not with that feeling still simmering in his belly. Not with the feeling of that plummet still in his bones and the echoing silence of the cockpit in his ears.

You stop. For a moment, you gape at him. Then you say, “You would have died, too.”

He’s shaking his head before you’ve finished, frantic, saying, “I could have punched out, you were in g-LOC, you would have died, Specter, this isn’t funny, this isn’t a game, this is real….”

“I can handle myself,” you say, but something about your voice is chafing.

“I think what we just saw,” Rooster says, face solemn, arms crossed in front of his chest, “proves that even you can’t always handle yourself, Specter.”

By your hips, your hands clench and unclench into fists. Your whole body seems to pulsate to a rhythm nobody but you can hear, shoulders heaving, head nodding up and down.

You’ve always stood apart from them, even as you stood right next to them. Never letting anybody in.

I can help you, Bob wants to say. You don’t need to carry it alone.

But you’re shaking your head, pulling the helmet against your chest. Stand on that runway, a step from him, a million miles from him.

“I’m fine,” you insist one last time. Voice like a wind chime. Face like a ghost.

And Bob thinks it might be time to let the moon go.

A week later, Hangman goes down.

Birdstrike, both engines on fire, ejectejecteject, static on the radio, fire streaking across the sky, then the parachute opening and the wind howling and him floating, light as a feather, towards the ground.

You’re out of the room before you can hear how it ends. Stumbling through the hallways of the base like a sleepwalker, like a toddler, like someone on the verge of a terrible thing.

It’s growing in you, something you can’t name, something that mounts and mounts and…

In a corner, next to a water fountain, you crumble like a ragdoll. Fold yourself into a neat square of limbs, knees pulled all the way up to your eyes, face pressed into the space between them.

The panic flares into your body like electricity, tingles down your spine and into your legs, tugs at your hands and feet. And your chest is full of it, of that anxiety and that memory, so full the feeling crowds against your ribcage, threatens to snap the bones. There’s no room for oxygen.

I’m going to choke, you think. I’m going to…

“Hey.”

You know it’s Bob without looking up. You couldn’t do it anyway, even if you tried. Your muscles won’t listen to you, not now when your body belongs to the anxiety.

“It’s okay,” Bob whispers. He’s crouched in front of you, you know this because you can see his shoes through the gaps between your knees. Angled like a V, straining towards you. “He’s fine. Hangman’s fine.”

It should bring relief, but it doesn’t. You shake your head, forehead still smashed against your knees, and your skin tugs against the patellas.

No, you think. I can’t do it. Not again, not again, not again. Please, god, make it end, just make it stop, I can’t, I can’t, I…

“I can’t,” you say, and you don’t know what you mean.

All you can think about is the crash. The gravity pulling at your chest. A canopy exploding above you. The pain of that dislocated shoulder. And then the emptiness, the aching, endless emptiness of the after. The guilt, the grief, the fear, the fear, the fear.

“Can I touch you?”

Bob’s voice is so soft, even with the underlying current of firmness. Just like it was in that bathroom. And it should be an oxymoron - for someone to be so tender, for someone to be so unyielding. But it’s not, not with Bob. Bob, who seems to contain true multitudes.

You nod because you can’t find your voice.

He draws you into his arms, right there on the floor. Hands on your back, tugging you against his chest, urging your head into the space below his chin. He’s so warm, and he smells nice, and he’s everywhere.

“Easy,” he whispers. “It’s alright. You’re okay.”

And then it’s just him. The steady beat of his heart instead of the screaming of warning systems. The smell of his aftershave instead of the smoke and the gasoline. His fingers pressing into your spine instead of the straps cutting into your shoulders.

Bob holds you together until you can do it yourself.

You draw back, slowly, almost reluctantly, and the moment his touch is gone, you miss it like something intrinsic to you. Miss it like a limb.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him. You can’t look at him.

Bob exhales.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “Can you… explain it?”

You suppose you should. Suppose you owe it to him after these weeks. After everything you’ve put him through.

“It… it scared me,” you whisper. It takes a lot to get that out, to admit that there’s anything, anywhere, that could scare you.

You don’t want Bob to know. You want Bob to think of you as someone above things like fear, someone strong and brave and whole. But it’s just all too much. You’re eroding, crumbling, tumbling off the tightrope you’ve been walking for so long.

If someone like Hangman, someone brilliant, someone fantastic, someone who burns brighter than life, can go down… then what about you? What about Bob?

“The rest, too.” At your questioning look, he elaborates, “Explain all of it to me.”

You could keep pretending you don’t understand him, but you’re too tired. Something about the panic has made you fuzzy, has blurred your edges, and you just want it to be over. You just want to be rid of everything clogging up your chest.

You want to feel again what you felt that night in the bathroom with Bob. You want somebody to carry the burden with you, so you won’t feel it dragging you beneath the surface of the ocean all the time.

“I killed her,” you say finally. The words are barely more than a whisper, but they burst from somewhere at the very core of you. Something you’ve kept hidden from view for years.

Bob pauses. Stares.

“... What?”

“I killed her,” you repeat, voice watery, hands shaking. “My last backseater. I killed her.”

He opens his mouth only to close it again—shifts his weight where he’s still sitting on the ground. Your knees are almost touching.

“Spec…” he begins, but you don’t let him finish.

“Everybody always said it, you know? That I was a wildcard, that I just… did whatever I wanted without thinking about others. Everybody but her. She’d always say, oh, you just don’t understand her, she’s brilliant, she knows what she’s doing, she….” You have to stop yourself, have to suck in a breath that sounds like you’re drowning, like your lungs are filling up with water. “And then one day we had a fight. She said that I… that I didn’t listen to her up in the air, that I always trusted myself more than I trusted her, and she… she called me a liability.”

Something in Bob’s eyes shifts, something like understanding flutters across his face, but the dam inside of you has broken. The river rushes without stopping.

“So I decided to prove her wrong. I wanted to go right, but she told me to go left, and I did. We got into a jet stream. I lost control of the plane. We had to eject. I made it, and she didn’t.”

You pause then. Blink against that horrible, unforgiving, brilliant sun outside the window. Your cheeks are wet.

“She was my best friend, Bob.” Your voice breaks, and you fold in on yourself, deflate. “She was the only one who ever believed in me. I knew her since we were eighteen, we did everything together, I only started flying two-seaters so I could fly with her, and you have to understand, I would have… if I could have changed it, if I could have died instead of her, I would have, I wouldn’t even have thought about it, I… And I know I’m not a… not a good person, I know I’m selfish and mean, and I hurt people all the time, and I know I hurt you, but I just… ” You trail off. Your voice is barely more than a whisper. “She was my best friend.”

It’s not nearly enough to explain what she meant to you. It’s all you have.

Bob doesn’t answer for a long time. When you finally find the courage to look up at him, you brace yourself for the inevitable: shock, disgust, disdain.

You find none of it.

Bob looks at you with a tenderness on his face that punches all the air out of your lungs.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” he asks, voice soft.

It’s almost helpless, the way you can do nothing but shrug your shoulders.

“It’s not…” You can’t look at him anymore, afraid you’ll do something stupid, afraid you’ll kiss him or tell him something you won’t be able to take back. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Bob’s brows furrow.

“Of course I care,” he says, as matter-of-factly as if he’s chatting about the San Diego weather. “I care about you, Specter. I always have.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It tugs at you with ice-cold fingers, even as warmth spreads through your stomach. And it scares you, hearing him say that. He shouldn’t care about you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long, long moment. “I’m sorry for… at the Hard Deck, I think I needed somebody, and you were there, and it… I used you. I’m sorry for it. I made a mistake.”

When you look at him next, something on Bob’s face has changed. Some window that was previously thrown wide open is shut. He looks down towards his shoes, glasses sliding slowly, slowly towards the tip of his nose.

“Up in the air,” he says finally. “I get it now, I think. Why you don’t listen to me. But I… Don’t you trust me?”

Hearing him say it hurts somewhere at the very core of you. In the grand scheme of things, in the great failure of your life, Bob is probably the person you trust most.

“I do,” you whisper, shaking your head. Folding your fingers in your lap and biting your lip so hard the sting distracts you from whatever is going on in your chest. “I just… I trust myself more. I have to trust myself more.”

Bob is quiet for a long, long moment. Then he nods.

“I understand,” he says, but it sounds like he wants to say something else entirely. “Can we just… let’s be friends, Spec. Please.”

And he sounds tired. The kind of fatigue that goes bone-deep, that travels over days and nights and weeks, the kind of fatigue you carry with you wherever you go. You know how that feels.

It’s a horrible thought just how much you’ve hurt Bob, and so you’ve never allowed yourself to think it. Have brushed it off and brushed it away, under beds and under carpets and into handicapped bathrooms with broken locks. Have pretended you couldn’t tell in the cockpit, pretended you didn’t see it in the mess hall when his face fell after another scathing remark, another dismissal.

All the way, you told yourself you were doing it for him - it’s not good to get close to you. You’ve never learned how to build things, grow things. All you know is how to ruin them.

So you say, “I don’t want to be your friend, Bob. I want to be alone.”

Behind the sheen of his glasses, Bob’s eyes are wet.

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” he says, finally.

And then he gets up, walks away, and leaves you behind on the floor, a town buried beneath a landslide, a meteor crater, a canyon of sand and rock, and the lone survivor clawing his way over the edge.

“Nat says you have a crush on me.”

Rooster gives no greeting, simply slides into the unoccupied seat by your side with those words. He’s broad enough that he dwarfs the rickety chair, the Hawaiian shirt so out of place in the beiges and grays of this military base.

A week ago, maybe you would have been embarrassed. Now, you can barely muster a shrug.

“What’s it matter?”

Rooster raises an eyebrow. The television room is deserted save for the two of you - some movie is playing with the volume all the way down, but you haven’t even been paying enough attention to tell if it’s a romantic comedy or a slasher.

“It matters,” he says.

You shake your head, staring down at the packet of gum in your hand. The whole room smells like mint.

“I wasn’t ever going to act on it,” you say, “that’s why it doesn’t matter. It’s just… there. It doesn’t change anything for you.”

Rooster is quiet for a moment. And then he says, “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Hm?”

“The way you think it does,” he elaborates as if that clears it up. “You think you can just walk through life and not affect others. You think if you’re just mean and closed-off, if you never let somebody in, you won’t matter to them. That you won’t hurt them. That then they can’t hurt you. That’s not how it works, Spec.”

You exhale. It feels a little like he’s just pried open your chest, pulled all your most private, darkest thoughts into the world.

“I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s like this.” Bradley leans forward, sun-tanned hands reaching for you across the gray, gray expanse of the table. He doesn’t touch you, but he leaves his hands palms-up, an offering between you. “There are people here that love you, Spec. Even if maybe sometimes you don’t deserve that love. And you have the power to hurt them, just like they have the power to hurt you. You’re already in it. You’re just pretending you’re not.”

You grind your teeth. It’s too much. You can’t do it.

Eject, eject, eject, your mind is screaming at you, but it’s like you can’t find the cord.

“Bradley…” you begin, without knowing where you want the sentence to end.

“And you don’t have a crush on me.”

He says it like it’s a fact. He says it like he knows you better than you know yourself.

You’re beginning to suspect he might have a point.

“I think I know when I have a crush,” you say quietly.

“No, you don’t. Otherwise, you’d know you’re head-over-heels for Bob. Otherwise, you’d know he’s loved you since the first time he’s seen you.”

You think of Bob - Bob on his knees at the Hard Deck, Bob’s voice pulling you from the deepest, densest darkness of your life, Bob silhouetted by the unforgiving sun as you splintered into shards of glass right in front of him, as the contents of your life spilled across his feet and drenched him in your night.

It feels like being pressed into the seat at take-off - anticipation, fear, relief… You’re on the verge of something.

“Specter.” Rooster leans low across the table, his face in your field of vision. Kind eyes, kind mouth, kind face. The sort of kindness you don’t deserve. The sort of kindness that rips holes into your life and your resolve and your heart. “You don’t really want me. You just want to want someone and not be afraid they’ll hurt you. You just want to want someone without it being real. Because then it won’t hurt.”

I already know this, you want to tell him, but you can’t. Something about hearing it from him, something about realizing you’re not half as complex as you always thought you were, is strangely reassuring at the same time it makes your stomach churn.

“And you’re scared to want Bob. Because that would be real. Because that could hurt.”

Bob Floyd, who is so much kinder than you ever deserved. Bob Floyd, who has your back. Bob Floyd, who loves you, even when you don’t know how to love yourself.

“It already does, though,” you whisper, your voice impossibly small, your eyes burning. “It already does hurt, Rooster.”

And Rooster smiles. The sight of it plants a hope inside you you didn’t think you were capable of anymore - a sapling fighting its way through concrete.

“That, Specter,” he says, “is how you know it’s real.”

Bob is crying when he opens his door.

He stands there in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, without his glasses, hair no longer slicked back but curly and soft, and you remember sinking your fingers into it, remember wanting to ask what conditioner he uses, remember…

“Do you love me?” you blurt.

Bob blinks and opens his mouth. His cheeks are wet.

“I…”

You don’t let him finish.

“Because I don’t know if I love you. But I know that I like you. And I know that I’m scared, Bob, I’m so fucking scared. Every day of my life, I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll die because I trust you, and I’m scared that you’ll die because I don’t trust you, and I’m scared that maybe I could love you, and I’m scared that you’ll hurt me or that I’m always going to keep hurting you and I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do with all this fear, Bob.”

And then it’s Bob, the WSO. Bob the pragmatic. Bob the fucking best boy you’ve ever met.

He nods, says, “I know.” And then he takes a deep breath. Goes on, “You don’t need to know any of that stuff. You don’t even have to not be scared. Spec, fuck, I’m scared. I’m scared of how much I like you, and I’m scared of how much you’re hurting all the time, how tightly you keep that all locked up. I’m not asking you not to be any of those things. I’m just… I’m just asking you to talk to me. Let’s figure it out together.”

When he says it like that, it seems almost easy. Simple. Logical.

“For the record,” you say, voice a ruin, and you’re pretty sure you might be crying too, “I don’t think it was a mistake. What we did at the Hard Deck, I mean. I think it… I think it may have been the best decision of my life. I don’t make a lot of those.”

And Bob smiles. Steps to the side and opens his door to you.

“You wanna come in?”

You do.

In his bedroom, with his arms around you, it’s almost enough to pretend you’re whole again. It’s enough to know you’ll get there someday. To a point where you’ll know how to grow things instead of ripping them out of the earth. To a point where maybe, finally, you’ll deserve that love Bob hands out so freely.

In his bedroom, with his arms around you, it’s a little like drowning. It’s a little like flying.

#bob x reader #bob floyd #top gun maverick #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #bob top gun #bob fic #top gun fic #top gun imagine #mine #writing #f: hsp

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andreas-river · 11 months

Note

How fun would it be if Simon’s significant other went missing on a mission. How fun would it be if he had to obey his orders to stay behind, knowing that his person is still out there.

How fun would it be when they finally come back to him, bloodied and scared but alright. I imagine him just wrapping them in his arms and never wanting to let go.

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

TW: mention of injury, angst, hurt/comfort, light mention of sex, female body description, fluff.

A/N: i love angst. And thanks for your request Anon, sorry for making you wait that much, but i hope you will like it!

════════════════════════════

To say that Simon was angry was an understatement. He was furious, to the point that not even Soap or Price could get close to him, reacting like a dog kept in a cage, showing his fangs and growling aggressively at anyone, locked up and unable to leave these walls to search for you.

They were in a safe house not too far from where the last mission had taken place, surrounded by a deep forest, potential enemies, and too many variables that could complicate the situation and make it worse.

Price had repeatedly told him to get some rest, that all he could do was wait until the next morning. But for the first time, he had lost his patience and his temper, like a bomb with an unknown timer.

It could have gone off at any time, even as he sat alone at the kitchen table, sipping tea that was now too cold to taste good, his mask barely raised to his lips, his gaze lost ahead, his mind wandering too quickly to have a logical direction.

You were the center of his thoughts, he could still smell your skin on his, your fingers playing with his hair, his lips worshipping every inch of skin, from your lips to the soft skin of your breasts, from your belly to your thighs, remembering exactly how you felt, how you were on him.

And you wanted to feel him on you as soon as possible, limping across the dirt road that led to the safe house. It was barely dawn, the shy rays of the sun finally illuminating the outline of the house you could see in front of you, still too far away for your breath that begged for mercy.

You never imagined that you would find yourself like this, but the situation had escalated so quickly that splitting from the rest of the team was the only chance of survival you had, realizing too late that the radio had been destroyed by a bullet that was fired way too close to your skin.

You kept walking, one hand holding the bleeding side of your tight and a gun in the other, finally reaching the doorway and almost losing it, your head spinning so fast and not feeling the ground under your boots, you put the gun away to knock on the door, but it opened before you could get any closer, lifting your eyes and staring at the man in front of you, familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.

You couldn't even open your mouth to say anything before he jumped on you, wrapping your body in his own, hugging you tightly and taking your breath away, too stunned to realize that Ghost was hugging you.

It was a strange feeling, his muscular arms wrapped around you, his face hidden in your neck, radiating warmth in your cold body. You knew you could get used to it.

"Lt - oh shit, you're alive!" you hear a familiar Scottish accent and manage to turn to him and smile weakly, but Ghost still hasn't left you.

You watch as Soap goes into the safe house, probably to call the others with a grin on his face, amused by the way Ghost was clinging to your body. Leaning on him, you finally let yourself relax, exhaling a sigh of relief, exhausted but happy between safe arms.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost x f!reader #cod #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #simon riley #request #request open

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quiltedgold · 2 years

Note

reader being saul's temporary secretary or assistant? and he's obviously got the hots for reader, but they tend to zay he's got to try better than that. that changes when he's drunk in his office after a long day, both of them Ray to get home, and when he tells reader to start closing up shop and they tell him yes sir, he calls them a good girl (which he doesn't realize goes straight to their crotch c: )

i went a little taxi gone wild with the drunk thing, hope you don't mind! i am such a sucker for intoxicated hookup fics, literally whenever i'm drunk i'm thinking "man if only saul goodman were here i would hop on him so quick😔" this one also features a cheeky reader who very much knows what they're doing to excite Saul but gets a kick out of denying him lol. thank you very much for the request dear anon, i hope you enjoy <3

Closing Time - Saul Goodman x reader

wc - 1.3k

warnings - smut, sleazeball saul bc duh, they/them prns for reader, fembodied reader, alcohol, boss x secretary

When Francesca took two weeks’ leave on account of her fractured kneecap, Saul worried at the thought of having to find a replacement on such short notice. Then, like an angel sent from heaven, you arrived at the door that very same morning, inquiring about a secretarial position. He hired you on the spot, thanking his lucky stars for small miracles. It didn’t hurt that you were a nice piece of eye candy, absolutely stunning in business casual and sporting a sweet smile and “innocent” look.

However, Saul quickly realized you weren’t as naive as you looked. One afternoon he dropped a pen in your path, hoping you would bend over to pick it up and put your ass on display for him. Instead, you looked at the pen, then back to Saul with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re going to have to try better than that, Mr. Goodman,” you tittered before striding out of his office.

He picked up the pen himself, face burning. Rats. Of course you weren’t going to be that easy, he’d been blinded by his first impression of you–the sweet, unassuming young secretary, shocked that an older man would show interest in them. He would just have to go about his pursuit in a different way.

This didn’t stop him from eyeing you. Some days you showed up in short skirts or especially tight tops, teasing him with peeks of your cleavage or slivers of your smooth upper thigh when you crossed your legs as you took notes during client meetings.

Whenever he tried anything, no matter how innocuous–inviting you to join him for your lunch break or inviting you back to his place at the day’s end–you responded the same as before: You’ll have to try harder than that, Mr. Goodman.

And he could tell you were dragging him along, playing with his affections like a cat bats at a ball of yarn–you often bit at the cap of your pen while looking him right in the eye through hooded lids, or stretched your arms when you knew he was watching, buttons pulling taught against your chest. Sometimes you noticed him adjusting his pants after an especially flirtation-packed encounter, which you’d acknowledge with a little giggle and a toss of your hair.

It drove him crazy.

After one especially long day filled with interactions with some of his more unpredictable clients, Saul sought refuge in his office and knocked back a few glasses of scotch, relishing the loosening of his tense shoulders.

“Sweetheart, would you come in here?” he called, tugging at the knot of his tie.

You appeared in the doorway, hands on your hips. It was obvious he’d been drinking, and his lips always got looser under the influence. Not that you minded the nickname, but you could at least put on an air of righteous indignation. “Yes, Mr. Goodman?”

“You can start closing up shop–thanks, darlin’. Good work today.”

“Yes, sir,” you turned to leave, just catching his reply.

“Good girl.”

It was offhanded, you could tell he wasn’t really thinking about the words he’d just said as he took another noisy sip of his drink.

But you stopped in your tracks. The simple phrase sent a flood of warmth to your core. Had he really not said that to you before? Clearly not, based on your body’s reaction.

“What are you waiting for? You want a drink or something?” Saul asked jokingly, expecting silence or your usual rebuttal. This was just another one of his propositions.

Yet…

You turned back around and strode towards his desk. “Yes,” you said decidedly. “I would.”

His eyes widened, but he sat forward and grabbed a glass for you, tipping the decanter. “Lucky me, I get my secretary as a drinking partner. Say when.”

You waited until the glass was three-quarters full. “When.” Then you plucked the glass from the table and downed it, wincing a bit at the malty flavor. Hell, up until now you’d only known the cheap liquor of college parties and family holidays. But, the liquid quickly warmed your stomach, sending a wave of relaxation to the very tips of your extremities. You leaned over the table, waving the empty glass slowly in his direction.

Saul chuckled. “Woah there, champ, no one’s timing you. Here–” he gestured for your glass, which you gave and he filled back up.

Instead of accepting the offered cup, you strode over to his side of the desk.

“You know,” you began. “I really shouldn’t be drinking on the job. And especially not with my boss.”

Now closer, you could see his lined face begin to flush. The alcohol’s influence, of course, but also your body’s proximity. Not a coincidence that you’d worn the shortest shirt and tightest shirt that you could get away with today.

“Believe me, I’m not tattling,” Saul said, putting his hands up in a “you got me” gesture, but his eyes were fixed directly on your chest.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of anything,” you hummed, tapping at the arm of his chair. “But still. Maybe it’d be better if I have a story in case someone asks me about it.”

Emboldened by the alcohol now coursing through your system, you lowered yourself onto his lap, one heeled foot keeping yourself grounded. You swore you could see the stars exploding in his eyes; you knew this was what he’d wanted since day one.

You put a saccharine voice on, thickening it with innocence. “Oh, but I swear, I didn’t want to drink it. He practically poured it down my throat,” you purred, placing a hand on his chest.

“So that’s your angle? Sleazy boss got you drunk to cop a feel?” Saul asked, eyes darkening, but now he brought the glass to your lips, which you parted immediately. “He sounds like a real piece of work.”

You smirk. “He is.”

Saul tipped the glass’ contents into your mouth, scotch splashing across your tongue and down your throat as you swallowed as much as you could, the excess bubbling over your lips and soaking the front of your shirt. His other hand held your jaw in place, fingers a little too rough against the soft of your cheek.

As he withdrew the glass, you made a big show of licking your lips to catch the leftover drops, then captured your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for him to make the next move.

Saul patted your cheek, the warm metal of his ring knocking against bone.

“Good girl,” he said lowly. His hand slid up the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His thick fingers knotted in your hair, tugging ever so gently.

“Thank you, sir,” you replied with a sharp intake of breath at the tug.

Upon hearing the title, he let out a groan and pulled you towards him, mouths meeting messily. The taste of malt liquor mingled on both of your lips as you panted into each other, high pitched keening from you and small whines from the back of his throat.

His other hand snaked down to grasp at your ass, collecting a generous handful and using it to hoist you closer to his body, his hips jerking up to roll against your thigh as the kiss deepened.

“You’ve been–killing me–all, hah, all week,” Saul moaned through the kiss. “Your fuckin’--your body, the looks you give me, the–the goddamn pen biting.”

You laughed, which turned into a whimper as he worked a hand under your bra. “I told you–you were gonna have to try harder.”

“Well, Jesus, shit–If I’d known all that meant was getting drunk and–callin’ ya a good girl, hell–” he groaned as you ran a hand down his stomach and palmed his erection– “I woulda done it way sooner.”

You kissed him again to get him to stop talking–he was cute, but more so when he knew when to shut up. All you really wanted to hear at the moment were his overwhelmed whines as you worked at his cock.

You had, what, one more week here? You’d already wasted the first with petty flirts and pretend prudence–you hoped Saul was okay with you rescheduling his meetings, because you were going to use the rest of your employment wisely.

#saul goodman x y/n #better call saul fanfic #saul goodman #saul goodman x reader #jimmy mcgill x reader #jimmy mcgill #better call saul

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goblinwithartsupplies · 2 months

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Juno's Point.

For the first time, Juno gets furious, - how dare this lustful bastard!? How dare he impose himself on the grieving groom, how dare he!? Isn't he the god of justice and honor, shouldn't he represent the highest morality!? Why is he acting so disgusting!? He did not save Jason, although for him it would have been as easy as asking a nymph to give him nectar - just one white-hot lightning and a vile chimera infamously enhanced by Hecate's magic would have been destroyed and Jason was alive.. But Jupiter never took care of his children, - Jason's death cry never sounded. This creature bit into his throat too quickly. She trashes their bedroom as when she found out about Beryl Grace's newly rounded belly and silently sits down amid the chaos she caused in a torn dress and with shaggy hair. The nymphs, timidly trying to restore order, run, flashing their heels when she screams at them. Soon everyone will find out that their sovereign seems to have taken a mortal lover again. Jupiter comes in amazingly on time, Juno is silent, just sits next to a broken mirror and combs her hair, Jupiter ignores her and just goes to bed. He is too busy fantasizing about the young body of son of Neptune, Juno would rather turn the boy into one of her peacocks than let Jupiter even touch him with the tip of her fingers.

For the second time, Juno is next to her mother. Rhea refused to change when the Roman Empire came, she remained Rhea, an endlessly loving and faithful mother of her children even when they became different. Juno is crying on her mother's lap, soiling her white linen tunic with tears, grief for Jason eats her nonexistent heart, she was so bad only when Jupiter hung her over chaos. maybe that's why the gods refused to fully love their demigod children? because it hurts too much to lose them. Rhea comforts her with her infinitely gentle voice and says that this is the truth of life, mortals are dying and they must accept it. Part of Juno's consciousness, with a touch of dark humor, draws a parallel between her and some mortal child who lost a pet for the first time. Jason was, in fact, her beloved, devoted and affectionate puppy. When she returns to Olympus, Jupiter greets her in their bedroom with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. maybe grief made her too sensitive, maybe she just longed for love, but this simple gesture melts her like snow in the rays of the sun in spring. They are entwined in a loving embrace in their bed as husband and wife, Juno prefers not to pay attention to his detachment, she feels desired again, and this dulls the grief and that's enough.

The third time, Juno looks and wants to intervene. Perseus is grieving just like her, the goddess is sincerely surprised that he is still alive. Perseus comes to work with trembling legs and a thick fog of pain in his mind, Jupiter is waiting for him as usual and Perseus pounces on any source of comfort. He asks for hugs, simple intimacy and warmth, but for Jupiter it's like a red rag for a bull, he kidnapped and possessed a mortal princess, just because she was swimming in the river where he saw. The wind roars, Juno feels anger boiling inside, no she won't allow it, no no no and once again no, let her husband pursue mortals, but leave Jason's grieving fiance alone. But to her amazement, Jupiter obeys Perseus, does not demand anything in return, there is not a hint of arousal in him, he does not crave his body. They hug, really just hug, - Perseus presses his back against Jupiter's chest, crying into the crook of his elbow, Jupiter presses his lips to the top of his head, his hands gently rest on his shoulders. It looks strange and gentle, pure, there is a strange closeness in them, a strange closeness, not like the closeness of lovers or father and son, but it is a tender and affectionate closeness, similar to love but not being it. Jupiter is not interested in Perseus as a beautiful body warming his bed or as a lover, Juno realizes, But he feels something gentle for him, while remaining loyal to me, a Perseus is still faithful and mourns Jason. Juno decides to give the son of Neptune his mercy, let this closeness with Jupiter comfort him. She would not harm him or the children if this strange union bore fruit.

Hey, hello! could you please rate and voice your opinion about my letter - beginner anon.

This is honestly perfect. I’m intrigued about the idea of a platonic relationship causing kids. The way Juno is protective of Jason even when he’s dead is so sweet

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #percy jackon and the olympians #jercy #jason grace #Jupiter pjo #juno pjo #pjo asks #anon ask

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devyuence · 8 months

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another controversial take: every character is developing at the expense of topmew's

this is going to be an itemized rant and my thoughts are messy rn but sue me, i guess. feel free to raise brows but if you can get to post rants, i can too.

1. boeing should've been introduced episodes ago (not in the latest ep). as much as i liked raymew closure aka ray realizing that mew is not in love with him no matter what, boeingmew would have made even more sense. but then again, if we never had that raymew scenes, ray will not have that character development, progress with sand, and sand's character development.

2. as much as daddy dan (lol) is a plot device for boston to realize or act on his feelings with nick, mew's revenge played a part. he 'somehow' became apologetic, it's evident on his face during the confrontation scene, for stirring up things in his friend group and arguably starting to value things that he used to be so nonchalant about because he is moving away.

3. now that points one and two are established, can you see that the other pairs except topmew are progressing? not only their relationships but the characters are progressing, having arguable character development idk, or developing.

do we have the word "progress" on topmew as a pair?

do we have the word "progress" on top and mew as individual characters?

zero. nada. zilch.

it's like the writing team thought: "ah, in episode 5 onwards, let's develop everyone else except topmew. tone it down aka cut the scenes because people will hate them. tone it down because mew should not overreact in the burning of drawing scene. tone it down. tone it down until the scene drown and disappeared like titanic. tone it down until it goes down the drain."

apologies. i love mew and i am his number one defender but his character in the recent eps is stagnant and the latest one? ooc at that. at the same time, i feel bad that he is straight-forward and knows what he wants but becomes a stagnant character going back in circles. it's like everyone around him starts to have character development or redemption but he is reduced to, according to some viewers, an annoying brat. yeah, this is what happens when you toned down book's crying during his confrontation scene with top showing how he loved top so much as well as not showing more scenes that mew is really hurt and felt betrayed. he didn't have a proper breakdown aka crying scenes on his own but instead jumped on revenge era. the things are not grounded. people cannot sympathize with him because they do not fully know top and mew. they lack screen time to show who they are as individuals and as lovers. but that's just me.

what pisses me off the most is that he becomes a stagnant character and in the process, top is also hindered to progress. i mean, you know that at the beginning, i don't like top but he made his way on my fave list.

top was considered by others as someone without depth (at least that is what majority says no matter how much people explain top's nuances anyway). he is boring, bland, playboy, someone who is smug. i mean, when every character in the show gets to cry out loud and scream their hearts with proper build up except one or two, you will find them boring. book mew crying his heart out in the confrontation scene but was toned down? force top crying about him and mew at the silent disco while discarding the scene where he tried to find someone new but he cannot because he loves mew so much? like why are other emotional and crying scenes have proper build up and more nuanced but top, this is coming from a not-so-fan of top before, and mew do not have?

it's funny because top is reduced to mew's ex or lover (what are they anyway rn?), who (mew) happens to be reduced as a plot device for the character development or redemption of ray and boston, which had a domino effect on sand and nick's character.

ah. my lovely top and mew, especially my favorite, mew. i'm sorry that you are reduced to this which could have been fixed should people have more backbone and your characters have been thoroughly discussed in the writer's room.

anyway, i had low expectations on this show because as much as i liked the director, expectations lead to disappointment. now, im not expecting anything from this show. topmew is barely salvageable and is hanging by a thread. and if we don't see top's trauma next episode but more of NC scenes (i'm okay with it but to use it to appease fans is not), i'm sorry but... heh.

you know what is funny? for topmew to be based on real people, lovers at that, only to be reduced as plot devices and have a terrible state aka stagnant in the recent episode is peak comedy.

#ofts #only friends the series #topmew

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plantsarepeopletoo · 10 months

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Control, Mew, and Top

So I got the idea of control from @dewtu post here and the idea of mew's mugshot from @sunshinechay post here Thanks @rocketturtle4 for the posts and the talk (along with Midsomer from the discord)

Music playlist here

I think Mew likes to be in control. Of himself, of his emotions, of the situation. Top is a schemer, doing everything to give Mew a storybook romance.

Mew

I love how Boston isn't even in the light, he's uninterested, aloof. The next scene he wonders away from the group as soon as Ray suggests they help him with actually running the hostel for the project. Support my ass.

Mew is shadowed here, even though we see parts of him, like his mouth... We know what he says about himself, but I'm not thinking we get the whole picture from him yet. Also, I think he uses the glasses as a way to shield himself from the world.

"I read books a lot, that's why I'm wearing specs." Which could be he's ruined his eyes from reading, but also we know he reads books to feel things he's never felt before, go places he's never been, and this:

He is using reading to buffer himself from feeling the real thing. We know he is afraid of himself. "You know what I'm afraid of? I'm sensitive, If I have sex with you, I'm going to be so into you." He goes on describing how he'll be addicted and it'll turn out bad. He knows Top only wants a one night stand.

So the glasses can be a sort of symbol of that separation of him, his emotions, and the world.

Back to the quiz night at the bar:

Side note the song saying "It's one thing what you promised, but it's another to deliver, You don't want it now that you got it, to hell with it" nice. None of Top and Mew's songs are romantic.

Mew refuses to drink, giving what he wins to his friends. He wants control of his emotions and what is happening, which we see through out the night, Top thinks he is scheming his way into Mews room but realizes quickly that Mew knows what's going on. And Mew stops as soon as he feels like this situation and his emotions are getting out of control. So, he chooses Ice Cream. Top asks for a cuddle, and he allows it, but is still in control.

Mew's freak out goes along with the song that is playing "Check for pulse" Specifically, "You will hurt the ones you love, and they will hurt you right back. Sing along, Sing along, our love is a heart attack, You better check for pulse" Mew is afraid of this exact thing happening. Again, "I don't want to cry alone in my room"

Another thing about Mew being in control, he thinks he knows how to read people, we get him saying it twice.

Makes me think he's got Top's number. He knows what Top is doing.

Top

This whole time Top thinks he's in control, the bathroom scene with Boston and Top

"I also want to date him, he's interesting" Man never doubts for a second that he's got Mew under control.

Also song playing is Hate Me here it's just saying "hate me" over and over so... yeah. Doesn't feel good.

Cue Spying game with the lyrics "We're both lost, out of date, bitter stargazers, Pretty much similar, Homeless heartbreakers. I don't wanna hear your thoughts, You don't wanna feel my skin, You just wanna dream of sin, Sickness floating in our veins, Players in a spying game"

"I'm going to be there to comfort my friend" is met with a rolled eyes. The amount of contempt Top has for Boston. Man thinks he's got the situation down.

Enough that when he grabs the mic, he just assumes no one will stop him. Doesn't care about Sand, or anyone else. He's in control.

So we've got Mew who thinks he knows how to read people vs Top who wants get what he wants.

This smile at the end though. is it Mew falling for Top or is it Top falling into Mew's control. Who's world is ending.

#Only friends #Only friends the series #Ofts #only plant for your thoughts #only friends meta #omg I need food and water. Here's to hoping this even makes sense to anyone.#This show is ruining me already. I'm not going to survive.

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take-everything-you-can · 5 months

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1. Eddie convincing you to join the mile high club 2. You and Eddie using your hands to pleasure each other in the back of a movie theater 3. Eddie fucking you in the back of his van during lunch break (school or work, whichever), the rocking of the vehicle and the LOUD moans he's drawing from you making it abundantly clear what's going on. When you two finally finish, get yourselves cleaned up and put back together, and emerge from the van there's a round of applause and cheering from those near enough to see and hear what was going on. Eddie's all kinds of smug, and rightly so. 4. Eddie knocks you up without even trying, and despite him wearing a condom and you being on the pill - and it's twins. Meanwhile, it gets out all over Hawkins that Jason Carver is both impotent and infertile and that 'his' kids are really Billy Hargrove's. Jury is still out on whether Billy and Jason's lady had an affair or used a turkey baster. 5. More Eddie adjacent than Eddie, but... based on this pic of Joel Stoffer (Wayne Munson)... https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMjFlOTY2YTUtMWFhNC00M2Q4LThhZDktMDlkZWZmMTMzNzk2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzQ2NDgxMQ@@.V1.jpg -- Wayne is Eddie's actual biological father. Wayne and Eddie's mom had a drunken one-night stand at some point while Al was in jail yet again. Maybe revenge for Al screwing another woman? Anyway, Eddie's mom ends up preggers with Eddie, and she and Wayne both know it's really Wayne's kiddo but for her safety have to pretend it's Al's. 6. During Steve and Nancy's wedding reception, you and Eddie sneak off to fuck in the women's dressing room. Eleven catches you two when she returns to the dressing room to change her heeled shoes for sneakers because her feet are hurting. She hears what sounds to her like someone fighting, and uses her superpowers to rip the doors off the hinges. It doesn't take her long to figure out what's really going on, and she finally understands what Max meant by 'happy screams'.

Thank you for sending so many thots babe #6 I'm not gonna touch on cause anything involving the kiddos in walking in on Eddie or R during smexy time gives me the ick butttttttt. 1-5 I got you babe

1. The second you step into the airport that man is on you ! The second you jokingly ask him about it and see how stuff his posture goes you know what been brewing behind those brown eyes! But the second he steps into the bathroom after you and realized how small his space to move was he hates it instantly and vows that it's only ever happening that once. Yet Everytime you are on a plane together he caves and fits himself back into the tiny bathroom.

2. Thank God the movie theater speakers are loud and ominous as you got him in to see Jennifer's body. But as that lighter flickers over her tounge Eddie starts to shift in his seat as he sees you clench your thighs repeatedly against the popcorn in your lap. So he offers a helping hand one you take without hesitation and offer your own in return meeting his fingers with strokes that are locked in a battle to see who can get who off first.

3. Not the small crowd I'd be so proud yet so incredibly embarrassed if that ever happened to me like yesssss go off queen but no no no ....... You pretty just ask Eddie to take you home and instead he takes you to his house to get your mind off of everyone that was outside the van he lovingly tells you that they won't remember it in a few days time but when he goes down on you you forget instantly.

4. THAT RIGHT THERE 👌 yeah I can see Eddie being a fertile myrtle ... He's just cocky enough boast not knowing that his sperm can withstand gama rays!! I fully believe he is in it for a big family !

Also the Jason story arc is so good I'm fucking dying 😂😂

5. I can't say much here cause I have a baby ficlet similar to this in the works except more fluffy with a different kind of angst for my angieverse but Annie you really pull at my heart strings with this one

6. Stancy is not my endgame but to each his own if Steve ever does settle down with whomever he choses I fully believe eddie is sleeping with a bridesmaid best believe and that's all im saying lol

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie anon #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things

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fullscoreshenanigans · 1 year

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Love the way the anime adapted this bit of the exchange between the trio in chapter 27 and chapter 28 where Ray reveals he hasn’t experienced infantile amnesia.

You can feel the profound weight of a lifetime of suffering and loss on his face as he grapples with trying to keep his emotions out of what he’ll say next, because he never brings up how what happened in all the years prior made him feel, not even when Emma provides him with an opportunity where she prompts him with speculation about what it must have been like seeing dozens of their siblings off and being powerless to do anything about it in episode 5

(Chapter 181.1)

when she remembers how shaken up Ray was when they were younger (even going so far as to say "but…Ray is never happy" in the "NER in Bird Cages" short story in the first light novel, though in perplexity as opposed to being passive-aggressive about it) and now finally has a devastating answer as to why.

But Ray never explicitly colors his recollections with emotions when discussing them with Emma and Norman, how what was happening around him and what he and Isabella did made him feel, and only displays the full anguish of what that did to him when he's speaking with Emma on the night of January 14th. While the two knew Ray intended to kill himself to serve as a distraction for them to escape, Emma never knew how deeply he internalized his self-loathing and the belief that he deserved to die for his actions and inaction until that eventful night, otherwise she would have asked one of the other kids to go talk to him, if not just have said “fuck it” and did it herself, Isabella's watchful eye be damned. She would not have let him suffer to that degree so long on his own; it goes against every fiber of her being.

Ray keeps all of that inside though, because he doesn't want their pity. He doesn't believe he deserves any when he actively chose to become Isabella's informant and which children would be shipped out early due to his experimentation with the trackers, least of all from the two people who are firmly categorized as genuinely good and worth saving in his mind. He loves them enough to squash down his humanity and die for them.

Yet there’s also that desperate (and what he considers selfish) desire to not be alone in this anymore.

I imagine among the vast array of emotions he was experiencing on the day of Conny's shipment was a guilty sort of excitement at being able to talk with them about the truth of the house, though he would never admit to it during this time because he deems his wants as irrelevant and unworthy.

But even after so much is out in the open between them now—how he tried to poison them against Don and Gilda and the other children by implying one of them was a traitor, how he experimented on at least one other child to ascertain how the trackers functioned, how he’s been Isabella’s dog for half his life—they still care about him and believe in him, and are earnestly reaching out to connect with him.

In a raw and selfish moment—because he's been steeling away his heart for years so that his resolve doesn't crumble—Ray gives in to those wants and reaches out to meet them. (There’s the argument that he’s desperate and willing to concede almost anything to strengthen his credibility with them so he can get his plans back on track and secure his end goal, but I like to think it’s mixed with this too.)

There's more focus on Norman than Emma during this part, likely as a callback to the tense confrontation they had during episode 5 where Norman was very cool and trying to quell how hurt he was by Ray’s betrayal and deceit. Now he’s taken what Emma said to heart, and it led him to the realization that Ray was willing to suffer in silence and die for them, willing to poison his relationship with them so they would distance themselves from him and so his death would cause them less grief.

(Chapter 29)

This is also after Norman’s fully committed himself to dying for Emma and Ray (and the other Grace Field children) and lied about what he plans to do the following day, so there’s this need for as much honesty between them as they can give because he hates leaving off on such terms. Unlike the time where he instigated a confrontation between them and went in combative in the event Emma was wrong, here he’s approaching Ray with a genuine desire to understand him. He wants to give him a chance to vent, know more about the him that he kept under such rigid constraints for so long, and to try and internalize what Ray’s saying to draw strength from the next day as he walks to the gate. This also why he verbalizes Ray’s struggle of six years of collecting parts for the deactivator and the focus switches to it as a physical manifestation of Ray’s hardships and love he holds in his hands (with the anime altering the manga's order of events so Ray gives him the tracker before discussing his memories of Grace Field Headquarters to facilitate this).

The lighting leaves such an acute awareness in Norman’s eyes and such a haunted look in Ray’s while the former is more illuminated and the latter is in shadows. I love that Norman holds Ray’s gaze during this entire exchange and doesn’t look away even during the brief bit of silence, letting Ray know that no matter what he says, he won’t shy away from sharing the weight of his reality. He wants to understand him after he spent a lifetime of not being able to be honest about the things that hurt him the most. There’s layers of tragedy to that, one being that they’re both still holding back at this point, but there is some progress on the front.

Likewise, how Ray’s eyes are obscured when he reveals he’s always known, and the way Norman doesn’t suppress his reaction as the light shimmers in his and the skin around them and his brow crinkles in muted grief. He vowed to himself not to look away at Ray’s suffering, but just like he quickly realizes the implication of Isabella being at the gate and how that’s reflected on his face in episode 1

the gravity that’s implicitly woven into those three words is heartbreaking, and it strengthens his resolve that he's making the correct choice. Ray has carried this burden for so, so very long; now it's his turn to bear it (though the perceived cost is unfathomably cruel to expect of anyone, least of all an eleven-year-old).

And on Ray’s end, we have the perspective flip of this reflection:

Because he remembers the years of Norman’s love and kindness when all Norman understood about the situation was that one of his two best friends was sad.

While he won't give up all his secrets to him and Emma, in this moment where they're on the precipice of potentially losing Norman if anything should go awry, he exposes another painful layer of his past.

It's a double-edged sword though, because while it does bring them all closer together emotionally, Ray assumes that by additionally appealing to Norman's logical side with the information he can provide him about headquarters, it'll convince him that hiding out in the forest for a few months is a viable option. In actuality, Norman's already made his final decision.

#The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #TPN S1 #TPN S1e05 #TPN S1e09 #Escape Arc #Full Score Trio #Norrayemma #Noremray #TPN Ray #TPN Norman #TPN Emma #Pre-Canon #TPN 181.1 #Emma #Norman #Ray #TPN Meta #FSS Chatter #Long Post #just some little changes that have a big impact on making the viewing experience enjoyable. to me.#recycling this from discord so some people might see it twice sorry </3 #big thank you to all the animators who worked on that frame of Ray in the shadows they are my heroes that shot fucks me up so bad _(:△」∠)_#the gif version of Emma looking down when commenting on how tough Ray's experience was #would not upload without being dithered to hell and back with my rudimentary gif-making knowledge #so still frame it was lol #also now you can see how bad my edit on that Ch181.1 panel is to fit along the left side of that last pic

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