#my Fics

[boojangs]

Personal announcement: I'll be getting surgery within the next six hours and I just wanted to tell you guys that I love and appreciate you, and that I'll (hopefully) be back soon with all my updates. 🩷🖤

#happy pride my loves #let me escape this surgery with my life still intact awomen #my fics #personal

[bi-hop]

After a tiny wait, the third chapter of Only I See You (the way you wanna see yourself) is out in the wild. Read it! Enjoy it! Tell your friends about it!

Do it for Kabru!

#labru #dunmeshi uni au #laios touden #kabru of utaya #my fics #critics say this one is a peak entry into the modern laios canon

[kindlingkeen]

Keen!! No pressure or anything but will you ever write Jason&Damian-centric fics? hehe

Dick finds him on the top of the Old Gotham Cathedral at dawn. 

Jason hears the sound of boots touching down behind him and doesn’t bother to turn around. Nightwing has always had a different cadence to his landing than the Bat. It’s lighter, softer. He can never really suppress the bounce to his step.

Jason runs his hand over the head of the stone gargoyle to his right once more, the weather-roughened stone catching against his bare palm.

“I’ll be gone by tonight,” he says evenly. “I just had a few things to take care of while I was in town.”

“Hood,” Dick calls softly, “Jason, please.”

Jason hunches deeper into his hoodie. He feels naked without his leather jacket.

In front of him, the Gotham’s skyline stretches out. The buildings are bathed in the pink rays of the newly rising sun. For a moment, the city’s darkness, the poison-riddled grime that covers everything, fades away in the sun’s burgeoning glow.

“What do you want, Wing?” Jason asks irritably.

Dick’s boots scuff against the roof's slate tiles as he moves closer. Jason knows Nightwing can be absolutely silent when he wants to. His shoulders climb up higher, practically to his ears. He doesn’t turn around.

“Aren’t you going to ask about the kid?”

“No,” Jason grinds out, ignoring the way his stomach twists. His hand clamps down hard against the gargoyle’s head, his fingers digging into the stone. He feels one of his thumbnails crack and tear.

“He stabbed Tim.”

Jason snorts softly as he rolls his shoulders back slowly, letting his hand fall away from the statue to rest in his lab. “I warned you about letting him near weapons.”

“It was a butter knife!”

Jason huffs a breath out his nose, amused in spite of himself. He pretends not to notice when Dick plops down onto the roofline three feet away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the vigilante hunches forward, propping an elbow onto his knee with a sigh as he drops his chin into his hand. Even with Nightwing’s domino in place, Jason can feel Dick’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

“Jay, he’s refusing to speak in anything except Arabic. B is the only one who can understand him.”

The tilt to Jason’s lips falls away. “Don’t call me that. And the kid knows English. He’ll come around.”

“He’s not even five years old. He lost his mother. His home. He got dragged halfway around the world only to be left with strange people in a strange place.”

Jason glances over sharply, finally meeting Dick’s gaze directly.

“Does the Bat know you’re here, Wing?”

Dick grimaces. “He won’t stop asking for you, Jason. He cried himself to sleep last night, and the only thing he would say was your name.”

Pain lances through Jason’s chest as white-hot heat clogs his throat.

“What are you to him, Jason? You bringing him here—it’s more than just you owing Talia a favor.” 

Nightwing’s white lenses stare at him unblinkingly. Jason looks away.

“You still haven’t told me what you want, Wing. You can’t guilt trip me into something if I don’t know what you’re asking for.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Dick says softly, “Come home, Jason. Please, we need you.”

Jason surges to his feet, stumbling back a step before he catches himself. The scar across his neck throbs.

“The manor isn’t my home,” he rasps. “Not anymore. I’m not welcome there.”

Dick springs gracefully to his feet, following Jason’s retreat with measured steps as Jason continues to back away slowly across the roof.

“It is, you are,” he entreats, and then more softly, “please, for Damian. He needs you.”

Jason swallows, his throat working. He feels the echo of a warm weight in his arms, soft hair tickling his face, the fresh, clean smell of a baby wafting thickly through his nose.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Jason whispers, his voice cracking at the end. But he stops moving away.

He can see the knowledge that he’s won wash over Dick’s face a second before the man smiles tentatively. Jason scowls in return.

“One week,” he spits out. “Just until the kid settles in. And the Bat stays out of my way. Don’t start playing happy families in your head.”

Dick’s smile grows. “Sure, Jay, whatever you want.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jason grumbles. But he follows Dick off the roof all the same.

~~~

More details on this AU in progress here.

#the answer is yes anon #if that wasn't clear #but this one is a long way off from seeing the light of ao3 #jay and dami meet in the loa #post aditf au #baby dami #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #keen converses #tumblr drabbles #my fics

[somerandomdere]

Yan! reader x second female lead! darling

warnings: implications of suicide, slight angst, mentions of reader's obsessive behaviour, worried its too long so I split it into 2 parts I know I'm supposed to be working on requests but I can't get this idea out of my mind :(

You have reincarnated into a world of your comfort otome game, The Wind Falls. You played this game over and over in your previous life, not because the storyline was great or anything, but because of your favourite character, the second female lead, Aleena.

She's everything you'd dream to have in a girlfriend. Kind, diligent, loyal and warm. You just couldn't understand why the main character never chose her. However, no matter what choice you pick, you never ended up with her.

This caused you to obsess over her, filling your bedroom with her pics from ceiling to the floor, praised her in every forum you are in, psycho analysing her personality and micro expressions to everything about her. She was your comfort character, your warm home, everything to you. You wish someone like her will come to you in real life, so you could escape from this hell.

Every time you went home and got beaten up, you played your favourite scenes of her. Every time you got bullied at your school, watching her made you forget about your bruises and pain. On your darkest days, she was your light.

But you know she will never appear in real life, for such an angel does not exist in this society.

So you decided to go to her.

By jumping in front of a speeding truck.

"Fuck..." You opened your eyes, and found yourself in a classroom. The sun was blazing, the rays blinding your eyes. Your skin was sticky, and you were sweating all over. You feel your muscles aching, did this body run a thousand miles or something?

You lent another student's pocket mirror to take a good look at your appearance. You possessed the body of an athletic student. No wonder you were sweating so much. Fit, slim and muscular, this was the body type you were constantly praying to have in your previous life.

Maybe you can start over.

After returning the pocket mirror, you scanned the people in your class. When your eyes landed on Aleena, it felt like the world slowly came to a stop. Your angel was in the same universe as you, and she was even more beautiful than in the game! Dark, cascading curls fell over her shoulders and her long eyelashes fluttered as she revises her homework she had to hand up later on. You were in ecstasy, even drugs could never replicate this happiness and love you felt for her.

"Quiet down class! I have an important announcement to make. We have a new student who came all the way from the UK! Please introduce yourself!" You snapped out of it and returned your attention to the teacher, even though your heart was thumping.

A boy about the same height as you, wears a frown on his face as he introduced himself as Elias. He was dark, brooding, mysterious, definitely would be male lead of any novel he's in. And as you guessed, his name sounded very familiar. Elias, the male lead of The Wind Falls, also the character you play when playing the game. To be honest, to you, he looked really overrated. Your heart only belongs to Aleena and no one else.

Looking at Aleena, you could already tell she was smitten by him. Her pupils turned into a heart like something out of a cartoon, and she was blushing intensely.

But of course, as the second female lead, she never had a chance with him. His assigned seat was beside the snobbish, rich and tsundere girl, Angela, also known as the female lead of the game.

You realised you never had a chance with Aleena as you were just a mob in this game realm. Yet you wanted to see her smile. you didn't need her to reciprocate your feelings, as long she's happy, you're happy. And you will do anything to achieve this.

A few days later, Aleena tries to win Elias over with some home cooked food, but unluckily for her, Angela thought of the same idea. When Aleena was trying to muster up the courage to give Elias the lunch, Angela cuts in and with her usual arrogant look, sets down her 9 tier lunch in front of him.

Watching from afar, you could tell Aleena felt defeated looking at that glamorous lunchbox. You honestly wanted to permanently get rid of Angela so Aleena and Elias could have their happy ending. Elias, opens the glamorous lunchbox, and the food inside...was so unlike the outside. Burnt to a crisp, the food didn't look appetising at all. Nevertheless, Elias told Aleena he will eat hers another day and chose Angela.

You were boiling mad. Doesn't he see how much effort Aleena had put for him? Didn't he see her hands that were covered in band aids? Doesn't he know how early she must have woken up to prepare the lunchbox for him? While Angela dared to feed the one she supposedly loved with burnt food that was pretty much charred and could possibly cause food poisoning, Aleena gave her all and only gave the best to him. Yet he chose Angela over Aleena. He doesn't deserve her, you thought.

At this moment, Aleena runs out of the classroom, and Elias didn't even glance at her. Worried about Aleena, you chased after her.

"Hey...your lunchbox looked pretty good. You don't mind if I finish it for you right? It's bad to let food go to waste. Besides, I forgot my wallet today and I'm pretty hungry." You pretended to nonchalantly start a conversation with her.

Targeting her kind heart was foul play, but it worked. She gave her lunchbox to me her hand her hand her hand and we headed up to the roof together. As you ate her lunchbox, you could feel the warmth and love she had for Elias. All of Elias's favourite food, nice prepared in an elegant manner he would love you wish it was for you. As Aleena cried about how Elias will never look her way, you didn't want to discourage Aleena and wanted to resist the temptation to kill Elias, came up with a plan. You will set Aleena up with Elias.

There's a reason why you're a yandere. Anything for your darling

reference from the manga oneshot Make Heroine wo Katasetai! taglist: @suiana @forbidden-sunlight @allurilove @mightypossibly @hana-no-seiiki @yxami @maleyanderecafe @moyazaika @losersiren @faux-ecrivain @oct0bra1ns @lizzaneia-elizalde @misstycloud @purerae @puripurin @darling--core @heartfullofleeches @godnectar @yandere-writer-momo @lovverletters @loveydoveysunray also tell me if you want to be tagged. I got this idea from other writers :)

Guys, I'm working on part 2 of yandere actor x crew reader and some requests so don't worry! It's my break now, I finally have time to write.

Also, notice how I bolded every mention of Aleena because reader is obsessed with her. And they never bolded their own name because Aleena is much more important to them than anything else.

Also, I appreciate feedback! PLS PLS PLS GV FEEDBACK

#male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere cafe #yandere x you #yandere x darling #g/n yandere #my fics #somerandomdere's yapping #fanfiction #yandere fics #oc x reader #yandere reader #reader insert #gn reader #ok idk what to tag anymore #Make Heroine wo Katesetai #yan reader x oc #tw yandere #male yanderes

[izukuwus]

I don't think we can put this in the sports column (NSFW) - karasuno/reader

m.list - read on ao3

A/N: wrote this months ago. didn't edit it for ages bc I thought it would suck to edit. it didn't suck to edit it fucking rocked and I'm never questioning myself again hell yeah

Summary: You infiltrate Karasuno's volleyball club for the university paper and take to bed a few of the rumors you've heard.

Warnings: smut, orgy/gangbang, oral sex, fingering, handjobs, double penetration, spitroasting, creampies, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, uhhhhh marking, exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism, overstimulation, light dom/sub stuff (submissive reader), uhhhhhh there's. there's a lot going on here guys. I wasn't fucking around when I said karasuno gangbang.

Word count: ~7000

It’s the night before your first game since you started this little investigation, and you are pressed flat against the wall outside the gym, a hand firm against your mouth in a desperate attempt to not make a noise.

There’d been rumors, sure. And yeah, you were here to investigate those rumors.

Karasuno is such a good team. They’ve gotta be doing some crazy shit to be that close and play that well, though.

That had been the… family-friendly version of the rumors. The more salacious of them had gone into detail you’d blushed too hard to repeat—images of working out issues with clothes off and loud gasps and—

Okay, chill. You’re a journalist. This is nothing.

(Okay, you’re a journalism major, technically speaking. But you need to get used to these things. It’s not like you’ve never had sex before.)

You had enmeshed yourself in the Karasuno University volleyball team after picking up the scent of those rumors about a month ago. Most of the rumors, you thought, were too stupid to entertain. It’s not like they were actually partaking in witchcraft to win games. That would be completely stupid. You assumed, honestly, that they had just clicked. Yeah, it didn’t really seem like everyone got along—the freshmen were constantly at each other’s throats, the captain had his hands full reigning in half the team comprised of spitfires, and there was at least one guy who seemed to believe his job on the team was to piss off as many of his teammates as possible. The only ones safe seemed to be the seniors and the girls, of which there were three if you counted yourself.

So far, it had seemed to be that there was no version of the rumor that was true—no, there were no blood sacrifices, yes, they did sometimes sleep, no, there were no crazy orgies in place to encourage team bonding, and no, they did not seem to be some sort of micro-cult. Disappointing for your article though it was, they had welcomed you in with almost no resistance, and you had found nothing out of the ordinary. They were just… normal athletes. Maybe a bit more passionate than most, but… normal.

Except. Except.

Here you are, the night before they have a match, listening to wet squelches and distinct slaps and what is undoubtedly moaning, unable to figure out exactly who the moans are coming from except that there’s definitely more than two people involved in whatever’s happening inside that gym, and fighting back the urge to peek through the cracked door and figure out exactly what the fuck is going on. (Or, uh, who the fuck is getting it on.)

Fuck. Are they seriously… seriously fucking in the gym right now?

There’s the burning shame of having caught them. The absolute mortification of knowing that you’re sitting there listening to them have sex with reckless abandon. You should be uncomfortable, but instead, you catch yourself squeezing your thighs together.

A particularly loud moan catches you off guard, and you jerk your finger from your mouth—when had you started biting it to keep quiet?—and flee while you still have the chance.

(As far as anyone else is concerned, when you’re safe within the confines of your single-person dorm room, there’s no proof to say that you snaked a hand down your pants, still thinking of that brightly-lit gym, of the idea of having been caught listening to them, of being pulled inside and—

There’s no proof.)

~

The day-to-day doesn’t change. You don’t let it. The guys played their match, and they won, and it was great. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling as they won, and your report for the sports column of the university paper was more than glowing. They’re a really fun team to watch, more so now that you know them—even if you’re now taking every effort in your head to not act like a total freak around them.

Honestly, you even think you're doing a pretty good job of it. You pretended not to notice the smell in the gym the morning after The Event—faint though it was, there was undeniably the hint of sex still in the air—you forced down any errant thoughts around them, and you didn't breathe so much as a word to anyone about it. What does it matter if they're having orgies or whatever the night before a game? What does it matter at all?

Luckily, you spend more time talking to the girls than anything—Shimizu and Yachi are becoming fast friends with you, you think out of an eagerness to have another girl around in a large group of guys. They're easier to talk to, too, since you don't recall hearing any particularly feminine moans during The Event. It's possible they have no idea. Possible that they, too, think things are normal. (Or else, they're the source of the orgy rumors, but neither seems much like the type.) They tell you innocuous little things about the team, like that time Hinata and Kageyama were so focused on their little rivalry that they ran clear to the next town before realizing they'd lost the rest of the team, and you get caught up in much-needed girl talk when you go out to eat together. Little debates on birth control, on dating, on whether or not that one psych professor can get it.

By the time the next game rolls around, you've nearly re-assimilated into the concept of a normal life. It’s really not a big deal, anyways—people have sex. It’s normal.

“Well, [name],” Daichi says towards the end of practice one day, about a week before. “You were only going to be here for a few weeks, right? How have you liked it?”

You nod, polite smile decorating your lips. “It’s been really enjoyable! It’s a bit sad that I won’t be around after the next game, honestly. You guys are really fun to be around.”

“Hmm?” Tsukishima says, an eyebrow raised your way. At some point, you seem to have captured the attention of everyone in the room, though you’re not quite sure what you did. You can sense their eyes on you though—a few of the more open guys stare, a few of the more polite ones glance out of the corners of their eyes. You’re stuck in the spotlight as Tsukishima takes a step towards you.

Why does one step suddenly feel so dangerous?

“You know, I’m sure no one here would stop you if you decided to stay.”

Yeah, your blood’s running cold. You get a firm grip on your brain in hopes of not horribly misinterpreting everything that’s going on, but—

“You confirmed the information you were looking for, right? Two weeks ago, hanging around outside the gym before the game.”

Ah.

Your face isn’t sure whether it wants to go pale or erupt in a furious blush. You, for your part, scramble for an answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Are you that dense, or are you lying to us?”

A tiny squeak passes from your throat. “W-what’re you—“

“I was expecting something to show up in the school paper by now, but instead we just got a glowing column about how well we played the next day. Not a word of it. Why is that?”

“Oi, Tsukishima, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?” one of the others says.

“It’s fine,” he replies, looking down at you as you look down at the floor. “Well, [name]? I’m waiting, Miss Reporter.”

The words burn a path down to your crotch, and you are absolutely not losing here, not now. You’ve just decided that. You meet his eye with a determined look. “I run the sports column, not the gossip column, Tsukishima. It hardly matters to me what you guys are getting up to—“

“You’re blushing, though. And you had to have heard before getting wrapped up in this, right? I’m comfortable speaking for everyone here when I say you can really find out the truth, if you want.”

“H-huh?”

He’s boxed you in, your back hitting the wall. Nowhere to run.

“What do you say? Wanna become an honorary member of the volleyball club?”

A sound sort of reminiscent of a boiling kettle leaves you, and you shove him away before you register it. “P-please give me time to think about it!”

A heavy silence.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s try not to scare the poor girl, yeah?” Suga says. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If she wants to, she wants to, and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. [name], if you wanna go for the day, you can.”

“I, um…”

He nods and guides you towards the door. Before you can properly escape, he leans in close: “if you do decide you want to, come see us after practice Friday night and we’ll initiate you. If not, we’ll respect that, okay?”

Initiate.

Friday night.

You swallow, throat feeling suddenly dry.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

~

You spend the week caught between a rational panic and another emotion you are not willing to put a name to. Yachi had texted you not long after your escape that night, an apology and a really genuine “no one will be mad if you don’t show Friday”. That was relaxing, just slightly, except the little pang as you realized you actually did want to show. You’ve had a text back drafted to her the past three days, glaring back at you as you agonized over your phone screen:

No problem at all! I just had one question about what this “initiation” would entail. You know, to prepare myself!

You’re pretty sure you’ve deleted and re-drafted the exact same text about fifty times. Normally, you’d text a friend, ask them to help you review what you’re saying to make sure it sounds chill, but who the fuck are you going to tell about this? The implication was clear. Freaked out as you are, you’re not exactly interested in spreading the information, either.

Friday morning is when you actually do get the guts to send it, having spend the week pointedly avoiding everyone, volleyball-related or otherwise. The final draft:

Sorry for being a little AWOL! Had some thinking to do, lol. I just wanted to ask what I can expect if I did show up tonight? You know, so I’m prepared?

She’d responded immediately—not with a text, but with an email and a call, the call coming through less than a minute after you’d gotten a notification of an email from her.

Somehow, your morbid curiosity on what you should know before showing up, if you chose to, turns into an hour-long phone conversation turns into sitting down with an open notebook turns into you reviewing the document she’d emailed you, freshly showered while Yachi goes through your closet.

“You wanna wear something sexy, but kinda cheap. Sometimes they get a bit too excited. After the first time, you don’t really have to participate in this stuff, if you’re busy or just not up for it, but especially for this first time, don’t give them the opportunity to wreck any clothes you care about.”

You nod, make a note on your open notebook, thighs squeezing together impatiently. She emerges from your closet, a bright look on her face as she holds up a miniskirt you’d long since relegated to the very back. “This is a cute skirt! It’s a really strong candidate.”

“Do you think so?” you cringe. “Honestly, I’m worried it might be a bit… y’know, short.”

“[full name].” She gives you a flat look. “You do understand what’s happening tonight, right?”

“…right. I’ll wear the skirt.”

She brightens up in an instant. “Good! Now let me find a matching top…”

When she’s satisfied, your outfit laid out and you almost mentally prepared to actually get dressed for this sort of thing, you expect her to leave the room, but she simply waits.

“Uh, Yachi, I need to…”

“I just thought of something,” she says, face blank. “[name], have you ever been with a girl before?”

Ah.

Your cheeks feel hot. You’ve not exactly tried to hide that you’re bisexual—if nothing else, the bi pride flag on your wall would be indicator enough—but as far as actual experience with girls…

“I’ve… thought really hard about it…? I haven’t really had the opportunity.”

She nods to herself. “Right. Before you get ready, it’ll be easier if I do this now.”

Her lips are on yours before you can fully process it, soft and tasting faintly of pineapple chapstick. She kisses you long and slow, lets you relax into it. When she pulls away, she smiles shyly, like she didn’t just kiss you for the purposes of prepping you for an orgy she’ll be involved in later today. “There. Get that first out of the way before we have to make out in front of the volleyball team.”

She waves on her way out of your bedroom. “Get dressed! I wanna make sure that outfit works for today.”

Right. Get dressed.

Well, if nothing else, you’re definitely sure about being bisexual now.

~

If not for Yachi, you would have backed out a hundred times already. As it is, she keeps a gentle, reassuring hand on your back as the two of you enter the gym, a good few minutes after the usual practice officially ends. They’ve already finished cleaning up everything from the day, the air already seemingly charged even before the part where they notice you’ve actually shown up.

Yachi closes the door behind you with a sweet smile. “We got her!” she cheers by way of greeting.

The eyes that suddenly land on you—all fourteen pairs, including Yachi—seem heavier than usual. Hungry. You can’t help the nerves that threaten to make you tremble at the promise of what’s to come.

But there’s Yachi again, ever-sweet and cute as she wraps an arm around your side.

“Oh, I see that!” Daichi is the first to say. “Glad to see you’ve decided to join us, [name]. Here I thought we’d scared you off for good!”

You giggle nervously. “Well, I just… you know me! Always gotta over-think things.” That’s good. That’s casual. You’re managing an almost-even tone while you talk. Almost like you’re a normal, real human person.

“I know the feeling,” Asahi sighs.

Suga sets down a chair near the center of the gym, eyes watching you in silent interest.

“I’m guessing since you came with her that you’ve been coaching her, Yachi?”

She nods. “She’s had the whole rundown. Knows what to expect and everything.” She unwinds herself from you in preparation for whatever’s to come next. You try not to jump at the sound of the lock on the door clicking shut.

“Good. Good.” Daichi nods. “Come sit, [name]. No sense in putting it off, right?”

You nod slowly, timidly stepping forward. Yachi follows close behind.

“Limits?” Daichi asks firmly. “Loud enough so we all hear you.”

Another laugh from you, shaky with nerves as you perch on the chair Suga set out for you. You rattle them off, having memorized the list in order for this exact moment. Knowing you, you’d forget something otherwise, and you nearly do.

“Got it. And Yachi told you about the stoplight system?”

 “She didn’t really need to,” you admit, a bit quieter. “I’ve got it.”

“Good. Shimizu, Yachi, if you’d get her ready? Ladies first, and all.”

Wordlessly, they descend on you. You were expecting… you don’t know. Not the sudden press of lips, familiar from an hour or two prior, against your own, or Shimizu’s arms so quick to drape over your shoulders from behind. You press your lips back against Yachi’s insistently, perhaps a bit excited, perhaps just trying to get yourself into the right headspace before you think too hard about the twelve guys currently watching you be sandwiched between the girls or Shimizu’s delicate fingers unbuttoning your top.

Your head spins with it already—Shimizu’s perfume, Yachi’s chapstick. Shimizu’s hand pushing your hair out of the way, her lips attaching to your neck gently. “You didn’t mention anything about marks in your limits,” she mumbles against your skin as a little whine escapes you. “Can we take that to mean it’s okay to mark you, or should I be careful?”

Yachi pulls away a bit, and you chase her lips. She pushes you back with a giggle. “She asked you a question.”

“Oh. Right.” You blink owlishly as you play back the question in your head. “Uh, yeah. I mean—it’s—it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? A few of the guys are not going to let up if they know that.”

Despite the exhibitionist dream going on right now, you don’t quite have the strength to admit that you quite enjoy the marks, actually, so instead: “I’m sure.”

“Alright.” Then, both pairs of lips are back—suckling your neck, kissing you until you’re out of breath. There’s no hurry, none at all, and you barely notice when your top is discarded completely, barely even notice the chatter of the guys bickering—when you strain, you just barely figure out that they’re deciding something about who gets a turn with you when.

You try not to shudder too hard at the thought.

Yachi slides a hand up to your bra and underneath it, rolls a nipple between her fingers. Shimizu follows up, finds your wrist and guides your hand beneath Yachi’s waistband to palm at her heat. “Have you ever…?”

You part from Yachi again, shake your head, eyes half-lidded and head swimming as you look up into the gym lights. “Hadn’t gotten the chance before—before today,” you admit.

She huffs a gentle laugh in your ear. “I’ll teach you, then.”

Her hand slides up your thigh, up your skirt. Yachi crawls into your lap, arms around your neck for stability as Shimizu’s fingers find your cunt, already wet. “It’s not that different from taking care of yourself,” she murmurs as two delicate fingers, too pretty to be where they are right now, stroke your slit. “Follow my lead, okay?”

You nod, whining when her fingers find your clit.

She teaches you in gentle, fluttery strokes. You lose track of it all quickly—your fingers buried in Yachi, thumb dancing over her clit as she leans over your shoulder to kiss Shimizu. You find it’s not that hard to adjust, and with every breathy gasp you draw from Yachi, you’re well rewarded by the slender fingers pumping into your cunt.

Needy and slipping into the mythical subspace you’ve only had the pleasure of reading about, you lean forward to plant your lips on Yachi’s neck. “No marks,” she sighs to you. You whine and move on, not letting yourself linger long enough to mark her skin. Seeming pleased with your listening, Shimizu slides a third finger inside you, stretches you out carefully.

“You’ll thank me later.”

She works you up so easily. Is it because you’re pressed between two pretty girls? Is it the ravenous eyes raking over this scene? Or—

Her hand retreats too soon, just as your hips had begun to really move with the friction, and you whine.

“I promise you’ll get there. Just hold on for now, okay?”

You nod, pouting at having been edged, and focus on the way Yachi writhes on your lap.

She’s close, too, you realize.

“So pretty,” you whisper in awe at the look on her face: eyes closed, head tilted back, lips parted just slightly. “You’re so pretty.”

Ah. Clearly she likes the praise, because she flutters around you. You work her more urgently, the wet squelches from your fingers buried in her joining the hushed moans and sighs of the team watching. When she cums, it’s a soft, quiet moan that you could honestly get used to hearing. Her walls flutter ceaselessly around your fingers as she leans down and kisses you again, and you’re sure not to stop until she slumps a little, though, truth be told, your wrist is already sore.

When she climbs off your lap, legs a bit shaky and a sweet, dopey smile on her face, she backs away, exiting the fray entirely. You nod in understanding. The goal, as she’d made very clear, is to make everyone cum at least once, and she’s gotten her fill. Shimizu takes your chin in her hand, tilts your face so she can kiss you, too. After a moment, you pull back. “Um—can I… my wrist… I don’t think I can…”

God, you’re already stupid. By the time you’ve gotten to everyone, you’re gonna be completely brainless, aren’t you?

She nods, helps you out of the chair only to sit you on your knees in front of her, having taken her place. She’s sweet and perfect on your tongue when you eat her out, paying careful, deliberate attention to her clit, and she instructs you in a low tone as she pets your head. It’s a blessing to be between her thighs, a blessing for her to be the first girl you’ve ever eaten out, a blessing to be allowed to draw a quiet moan from her when at last she cums on your tongue.

“Good,” she murmurs to you with a smile when you pull away, cheeks and chin wet with her slick. “I think you’re ready for us to pass you off. Will you be good for them, too?”

You nod, smiling dreamily. She looks over your shoulder and nods before standing and straightening herself out.

Three of your loyal watchers step forward. Seems like the seniors get you next.

~

You sit nervously, wait for… orders? Guidance? Anything?

You feel like you’re being circled by sharks, honestly. One of said sharks laughs, angelic, and you yelp when Suga’s hands come to rest on your waist. When had he joined you on the floor?

“You’re already tense again. Come on, relax a bit, [name].” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “See, Asahi’s gonna get nervous, too, if you act like that.”

Daichi pushes Asahi forward, a stern look on his face. Suga pushes you forward, too, until you’re nose to Asahi’s crotch and the prominent bulge in his shorts. “Go on. You took such good care of the girls, and it’s our turn now. Go ahead and open for him.”

You let your mouth hang open. You can be obedient. You can be good.

The bulge in Asahi’s shorts jumps a little as he looks down at you. You’re already deep in this, might as well go all-in—you paw at the waistband of his shorts, waiting for his nod of approval. When you receive it, you grab the shorts and his boxers and pull them down in one swift motion, swallowing thickly when you see the size of the thing.

If all the guys on the volleyball team are this hung, you’re going to be very, very sore in the morning.

You close your eyes, lean in. If you just keep your eyes closed, you don’t have to think about the guys watching you with varying levels of interest, don’t have to think about performing. You stroke him at the base, take as much of his cock into your mouth as you can handle. He lets out a soft groan as you begin to bob your head, and again you feel those hands on your hips. You let Suga do whatever it is he’s planning on, which is how you find your legs being spread a bit, your hips lifted just slightly only for someone—Suga, presumably—to slide his head between your thighs.

There’s a huff of a laugh against your pussy, and you try your best to keep up with sucking off Asahi as you’re yanked downwards to rest on his face. Asahi’s hot on your tongue, and Suga’s tongue is hot on you when he finally lathes his tongue over your sex. Your moan comes out muffled, cutting off into a squeak, almost a gag, when Asahi’s hips buck in response.

A murmured apology, a ruffle of your hair. The gentle affection has your heart and your walls fluttering against your will—Suga pulls away to laugh at you. “She liked whatever you just did, Asahi. Just so you know.”

You whine, roll your hips down in hopes of keeping him from saying anything else incriminating. He punishes you with a harsh suck of your clit, and the three of you fall into a nice rhythm—you taking Asahi’s cock as far into your mouth as you can handle, Suga fucking you on his tongue.

“S-so pretty,” Asahi murmurs when you dare a glance up at his face. He’s been watching you work him intently, sighs and groans filling your ears to let you know you’re doing well. You clench around Suga’s tongue at the praise, go back to work as you dip your head deep. When Asahi cums, he’s low and loud, and you greedily drink up the cum that hits the back of your throat. You’re not far behind, thanks to Suga, writhing on top of him as he forces you to stay seated on his face.

Asahi backs away. Suga slides out from underneath you, moves around to your front to kiss you softly. You shudder at the taste of yourself on his lips, shiver when his tongue slips into your mouth. Against your lips, he mumbles: “you could probably use a little rest already. You’re being really good, you know?”

Daichi chuckles darkly. “Oh, come on. She’ll never be done if we keep letting her rest.”

That’s the only warning you get before your skirt is tugged off. You’re left in nothing but a bra as Daichi begins to slide his fingers between your lips. “You’re doing great. Yachi said you were on birth control—I can assure you everyone here is clean, and she also said you’re okay with no condoms, but I want everyone to hear you say it, if that’s true.”

You whimper. You’re too sensitive for this right now, still shaking from your first orgasm of the night, but his fingers won’t stop moving.

“Well? Yes or no? Don’t make me ask you a third time.”

You gasp—his middle finger dips into your hole, just enough to make your hips buck. “P-please, I—I can—no condoms, please,” you nearly sob, hoping in vain that your bowing to his request will get you some respite.

“You’re so mean, Daichi,” Suga tuts.

You let out a sigh of relief when his fingers leave you, but then you’re being bent over and something hot and thick is sliding through your heat.

“S-sensitive,” you whine out.

“I know,” he replies, and then he’s pressing his way inside you, stretching you out, and you’re letting out a loud keen into the gym. He sits inside you a moment, gives you just long enough to adjust to the stretch before he’s moving. “You really worried us, you know. Do you think it’s polite to disappear without a word all week, [name]?”

“N-no, I’m sorry—“

A single harsh thrust. You cry out. Suga, ever-helpful, kneels down in front of you to give you his lap to rest on. Ever-obedient, you reach out and begin to palm the bulge in his shorts. He takes the chance to unclasp your bra as Daichi sets a slow, almost conversational pace.

You pull Suga out of his shorts, rest your head on his thigh. Focus on jerking him off as Daichi’s pace picks up from slow to harsh. “It’s nice of you to apologize. Don’t do it again.”

“I-I won’t—ah—“

The slow, lazy kisses you’ve taken to pressing against Suga’s cock—pretty and long—don’t mesh well with the bruising grip on your hips, the sharp snap of the captain’s cock in your pussy as he fucks you out. You cling desperately to Suga, jerk him off with no real rhythm as you struggle to take the abuse to your still-sensitive cunt.

By the time Suga’s cum shoots in ropes across your cheek, you’re close again, and Daichi isn’t letting up. “You want it inside, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you whine.

“Good girl,” he croons, and that sends you over the edge a second time, too fast—the fluttering of your walls drags him over with you. Suga takes the chance to stroke your hair almost lovingly as you’re filled up with hot cum, and you whimper as Daichi pulls out of you.

Five down. Nine to go.

You think they might kill you before the night’s over.

~

They really don’t let you rest—before you even process the retreat of the seniors, three more have stepped forward, and from the corner of your eye you notice the seniors holding back two guys in particular.

(“Dude, it’s our turn—“

“She can’t handle five at once. We already decided before this that you two get to go after them.”)

Ennoshita’s cock hangs heavy in front of you, and with a whimper, you drag yourself to sit up and take it in your mouth. He laughs softly. “You got used to this quickly. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

You’re not really willing to reply to that. You’re so far past embarrassment—if he’s trying to embarrass you, all you’re getting is a surge of heat low in your stomach all over again, as though your body could possibly handle any more right now.

There’s a nudge at your side, someone’s hand sliding up your arm and bringing you to take another cock in one of your free hands. A glance—Kinoshita is on one side of you, Narita on the other, and you are more than happy to take care of them, lack of coordination be damned.

“Take your time,” Narita says in a low voice. “I get this weird feeling the other two are not going to be very gentle with you when they get a turn.”

You shudder, moan around Ennoshita’s cock at the thought. His hips roll into your mouth, and you shoot him a pleading look. You weren’t particularly trying to send him any hints, but he takes some sort of hint anyway—his hand tangles in your hair, really expertly, actually, and he takes just a little bit of the load off you as he begins to fuck your throat, slow and easy, so you don’t have to keep track of getting off three at once. You relax your jaw, let him work, almost enjoy yourself as you twist your wrists around Kinoshita and Narita’s cocks.

Ennoshita is careful with you. Forceful, sure, but careful. You could gag on him—easily, if that was what he wanted—but he never makes you take him too deeply, simply enjoys the feeling of your mouth, your tongue, the way you’re completely lost in your little initiation. As his pace begins to stutter, you try to bob your head with him, unpermitted by his grip in your hair. You’re fully under now, head caught in a delicious space you’ve never quite experienced. Floating, really.

He pulls you off him firmly. “Color?”

You let out a little half-whine, looking up at him with lidded eyes and a quizzical head tilt as you try to remember what the fuck he’s asking you through the fuzz.

“Mm?”

“Damn, she’s totally lost.”

“Think she’ll be okay? Should we—“

A little panic surges in you, and you jolt forward as you finally process what he’s looking for. “G-green! Green. I’m green.”

He nods. “You’re sure?”

“Mm. Floaty. But green.”

“Good. That’s a good girl. You’re gonna keep being good?”

You reply with a whine, a tug forward in hopes of giving him the message to put his cock back in your mouth right now.

He gets the message.

The two in your hands tumble over the edge first, and you moan as you feel them paint you with their cum. You might like being taken advantage of like this. Ennoshita isn’t too far behind. He spills into your mouth with a groan, untangling fingers from your hair and smoothing it down gently. Before he backs away to let the next guys have their way with you, he leans down, keeps an affectionate hand on top of your head. “Good luck.”

“Mm?”

He backs away without explanation, and before you fully process it, you’re being pushed into a new position on your hands and knees. “Finally,” Noya groans from behind you, hands groping your ass almost reverently. “You’re being so good, it was so hard not to come take you while the others were busy with you.”

A whine. You’re more or less losing your ability to speak, between the soreness building in your jaw and the cotton in your head. Something bumps against your pussy, and you flinch with a whimper.

Tanaka is in front of you, watching your face carefully as Noya’s hands roam your body from behind. “Still good, [name]?”

You nod.

“Good,” he says, and then there’s yet another cock in your mouth. You’re starting to lose count. But, hey, Tanaka’s dick is an effective gag to keep you from getting too loud when Noya slides into you with an obscene squelch.

“There you are,” he groans, grip bruising-tight on your hips. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Tight and sensitive. Noya isn’t particularly thick, but at this angle he’s already pressing against a spot soft and delicious in your cunt. Fuck, he hasn’t even moved yet and you already feel dangerously close.

You rock your hips back against him, desperate even as you take Tanaka’s cock as deep into your mouth as you can manage. You get barely any movement before Noya takes the hint, and then one hand is holding you steady as he snaps his hips, sharp and hard, into you. The other sneaks around, finds your clit with ease and begins to frantically torture it. You cum hard and fast around him, and he lets his head drop backward with a groan, not stopping even as you struggle to hold yourself up and take it.

It’s all so much. So much. So much—

You barely manage to bring a hand up to finish Tanaka in your mouth, desperate to have just one less thing drowning you, and lucky for you, it works—he grits out praises as he spills into your mouth, strokes your hair as you swallow as much of his cum as you can handle.

With your mouth free, Nishinoya pauses just long enough to pull out and flip you onto your back. “Your knees are starting to hurt, right?” he coos, cock throbbing against your entrance again. “But you’re doing so well.”

You whimper. It’s all you still know how to do. He takes in your body, chest heaving and tits shaking from exertion, and slides a hand up your side, pausing to tweak a nipple. Your back arches. “God, you’re perfect. Are your tits always this sensitive, or do you just like being watched?”

“Al-ways,” you moan out, voice broken. His eyes are ravenous as he takes you in, like he doesn’t know where to look.

“Oi, Noya, you’re not the last one that gets her today. Go ahead and fuck her already.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. His arms are shaking as he pins you down by the wrists, shaking as he plunges into you all over again.

Noya is brutal. Dimly, you have the thought that you understand why they held him back as long as possible, though you think it might have made things worse. He leans down, lips against your neck, and groans when you immediately clench around him. “Your neck, too?” he hisses out.

You nod, barely able to catch your breath or un-fuzz your head long enough to talk.

“Fuck,” he breathes, taking the time to suck a few marks into your throat.

“Please,” you whine in reply. That’s all it takes for him to sink his teeth into a soft spot on your neck, and then you’re cumming again with an actual sob as he cums inside you, the second time someone’s cum inside tonight.

Nine… ten? Down. You can’t count anymore. He pulls out of you, lathes his tongue over where he’d bitten you, leaves you laying there to catch your breath.

~

“Need a break?”

You shake your head, not even bothering to check who’s asking you.

A laugh. “You sure? You look a little dead.”

One eye opened lazily. Yamaguchi. “Can take it,” you slur out. You’re utterly boneless. Exhausted, really. But you’ve got… a number more to get through, and fuck it, you’re in way too deep to give up now, and Yamaguchi’s looking kind of delicious, and—

Next thing you know, you’re slumped between him and Tsukki, one in your ass, the other in your cunt, you openly sobbing as Tsukki hisses condescension in your ear, fingers in your mouth to keep it open while they split you in half—

(“How is she even alive right now? I don’t think any of us made it through the whole thing without a real break.”

“We’re keeping her. We have got to keep her.”)

Next thing you know, you’re jerking Kageyama off onto your face, tongue lolling out to catch every drop of cum you can—

(“Genuinely impressive. Are we sure she’s never done this before?”

“Dude, I’m serious, what do we have to do to get her to come every time?”)

Next thing you know, Hinata is thrusting into you at blinding speeds, and you’re cumming again, moans more like broken sobs—

(“I mean, she keeps saying she’s good, and she’s almost through…”

“She’s just having a good time. Probably been dreaming about something like this since before she showed up for her ‘article’.”)

There’s a few expectant looks as you lay there at last, thoroughly fucked out, unable to even think about moving as the TV static in your brain begins to finally fade out.

Holy fuck.

Are you done? That was the last of them, right? You’re done, aren’t you?

“Now, now, [name],” Tsukishima says, and his tone has you whining. That was everyone. You’re done.

“The rule was that you have to make everyone cum before you’re done,” he explains, like you’re five or something.

“D-didn’t… didn’t I…?”

A few slow shakes of the head from a few guys.

“You’re here, too.”

Your blood runs cold.

“Noo,” you whine. “Can’t.”

“You can’t?” Tsukki crouches down beside you. “You’ve made fourteen people cum tonight, and you’re giving up now? What happened to the slut we’ve been watching all night?”

“Can’ttt,” you repeat, new tears already forming. How many times have you cum already?

He sighs. “You’re really not serious about this, are you?”

“No, I am, I-I—“

“Then you can make yourself cum one last time for us to see.”

You whimper, limply bring a hand to rest between your legs. Should’ve brought a damn vibrator.

You work yourself up as fast as you can handle, cup one breast in your off hand to roll your nipple between your fingers. Slide two fingers in and shudder when you find the mix of cum there.

(“It’s just mean making her do it herself after all that.”

“If she can actually cum again after all that, I don’t even know what to say.”)

Technically, you could probably get away with faking it. …probably. But, well…

The little competitive bitch in you wants to prove them wrong, and, hell, you’ve already put on a show for everyone here, right? So you get into it, best you can. Roll your hips weakly against your hand, sigh and whimper at just how much this all is. Rub your clit as fast as your wrist can still handle, actually fucking thrash as you fall over the edge one last time.

~

You blacked out.

That, at least, you can figure out. You’re being held against one of any number of potential muscular bodies, cradled, really. Like you’ll break or something.

“How long do you think she has to be out before we call someone?”

“Don’t,” you groan. “’M alive. Barely.”

Fucking hell, your throat is dry. You open one eye to peek at Suga, who’s already got a water bottle ready for you. It’s Asahi holding you, and he shifts to let you tilt your head back as Suga tips the water bottle into your mouth.

Someone is wiping the worst of the cum off you with a damp rag. You squirm, whine as they clean you up. Drink like you’ve spent the past six months in the desert.

“How’re you feeling?” Yachi asks sweetly. Ah. She’s the one cleaning you up.

“Gooood,” you slur out. “Tired. Sore. Don’t wanna be a good girl for the next twennyfour hours at least.”

She laughs. “You know you could have taken a break, right? You didn’t have to get everyone off in one go.”

You simply groan. In the background, a few of the previously unaccounted-for guys are cleaning up the mess where you’d been laid out on the floor. Someone taps something against your lips. You accept it, mostly out of laziness. Sweet. Crunchy. Chocolate-covered pretzel. You wonder if you can get them to move your jaw for you.

“Do you still want to come back after this, [name]?” Shimizu asks.

You nod. Accept another pretzel. Snuggle into Asahi’s arms. You think they picked him for cuddle duty because he’s got good arms. “’Sgood. ‘Mgood.”

She laughs slightly. Drapes something over your naked body.

A black jacket, reading Karasuno Volleyball Team.

“Welcome to the team, then,” she says, tilting her head with an ethereal smile. You blink blearily. Smile back.

You cannot fucking wait for their next match.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know via any contact method what you'd like to be tagged in (eg. character-specific, all works, all smut works, etc.). If your url appears on this list but is not underlined/you didn't get a notification, please ensure your blog is set to appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got it set not to for some particular reason, consider subscribing on my ao3 for an update notification, as I always crosspost on ao3 simultaneously. After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the taglist.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

#haikyuu x reader #my fics #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu reader insert smut #karasuno x reader

[demonslayedher]

Fic Announcements

115 of you have spoken.

☆The heartwarming (or heart-blazing?) Rengoku + Akaza family sitcom was officially renewed for a third silly season.

☆The ZenNezu + Freaking Kaigaku's Ghost Angst/Fluff now has its first whumpy chapter on the interwebs.

☆The Gokangumi Filler Arc first chapter is here for your reading pleasure in addition to the outline + character beats already out there for your imagination fodder.

...now how about some swords?

I like swords. You guys like swords, right?

I'm afraid you don't like swords enough, and that's why I underwent the Teppi project in the first place a couple years ago. And guess what? I have learned a whole lot more about sword production since then.

SO IT IS GETTING REVAMPED INTO A 10-CHAPTER AO3 VERSION AND YOU GUYS ARE GONNA LEARN SOOOO MUCH.

I haven't decided yet how much to do for visual aid, but I will need to keep it simple. The unabashedly educational survey of beginner sword nerdery has also dived more into typical meta and fic elements, including a couple chapters on sword polishing with a character we all know and love as far more than a background character swordsmith. It will take me a little more time to edit (especially since I want it to be easier to follow than it was before), but I just finished the full first draft about an hour ago, and I am stoked with all the new stuff I learned for the sake of polishing it off (whetstones!! Oh, whetstones, I have not loved and appreciated you enough!).

Phew.

Anyway, you will need to be patient for it, as well as for the remaining three ZenNezu!Angst chapters, because My Research is tying a lasso as we speak to keep me captured and very busy for the next few months. Speaking of things to have a little more patience for, I have one more announcement of what I've been up to recently.

#my fics #announcements #every time i see new notes on that stuff I think WAIT WAIT WAIT please wait there's more #there's so much more #SO MUCH MORE #but also #SWORDS SWORDS SWORDS

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 5!

Finally, another chapter!! Back to Percy's POV~ oh I absolutely adore writing him being head over heels for Nico 💕💕

Some more internal panicking, some more flirting, and they're finally getting to know each other~~ 💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~~~~

Percy went to the beach two days after ready to bury himself under the sand as soon as he saw Nico, and at the same time ready to show off the best surfing moves he knew. 

I'll look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar, that was what Nico had said. 

Percy had been replaying that moment in his head so many times in the last fifty hours it was now indelibly engraved in his memory. He could picture it perfectly, like it was still right before his eyes - the afternoon light bathing Nico in pretty shadows, that single strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail and was falling on the side of his face, the numerous earrings on his ears shining in the sun, the way he was biting and playing with those on his lips (it must have been an habit of his, and it definitely was an image that had been driving Percy crazy since the first time he had noticed it); Percy had clearly taken him off guard, and his expression had been the prettiest mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Percy had been ready to make up some silly excuse and run away as far as possible to hide his embarrassment and cursing his stupid impulsive mind for even thinking that saying something like let me teach you how to surf to someone he barely even knew was a good idea. 

And yet.

I'll look at you surfing and enjoy the ocean from afar.

He felt like screaming, felt like he could surf all day long even without waves if it meant Nico would look at him.

To be honest, flirting with him hadn’t really been his intention. He just wanted to talk to him, exchange more than those few words of courtesy that were needed to buy something. 

He had not expected it to be this easy.  Somehow, the words had come out easily, and the conversation had felt awkward but nice and natural at the same time - and maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part, but he couldn’t help but think Nico had enjoyed it too.

The smile on his lips had been genuine, the way he had laughed (and oh, wasn’t that the sweetest sound ever? Percy would gladly listen to it forever), talking and asking questions like he hadn’t wanted the conversation to end. 

Somehow flirting had come so natural to Percy as he looked at him - the need of getting to know him, to impress him somehow, to make him smile, to make the moment last as long as possible, all mixing and tangling together; somehow, that had resulted in the filter between his brain and mouth shutting off completely.

It seemed Nico hadn’t minded too much though. Percy’s heart was playing athletics in his chest as he thought about it once again. 

Calm down, he told himself, trying and failing to get a grip on his derailing thoughts. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say and said the first thing he could think of.

Okay, but did he really have to say that? 

He shook his head. No need to think about it, he’d just have to go and face the consequences of his own actions.

Despite all the time spent thinking about it, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.

The beach was as hot and nice and crowded as it always was, but Percy couldn’t concentrate on how that usually made him feel, couldn’t ignore his nervousness and the way his insides were tangling and curling together out of anxiety and anticipation.

He didn’t even have Annabeth with him today - he was almost tempted to call her just to scream his struggles to her once again; she was probably tired of listening to him freak out and would tell him to simply go and talk to Nico again. Was she right? Of course she was. Did that make Percy feel any better? Not really, to be honest.

He sighed as he set everything up and got ready. 

Would Nico look at him like he said he would? The simple thought made Percy shake.

He took up his surfing board, heart beating ridiculously faster than it should as he moved closer to the shore. 

And then, right before getting into the water, he turned around. 

Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but there he was, the boy of Percy’s dreams, looking back at him. 

They were far enough from each other that Percy couldn’t see Nico’s expression clearly- maybe he had just happened to be looking that way for a moment. Percy almost expected him to simply turn around and look away like nothing had happened.

But then, Nico raised a hand and waved lightly. Percy’s heart did a flip as he waved back, a smile growing on his lips. 

For a handful of seconds, there was no one else on that beach but them.

Then Nico’s attention was called back by a customer, and with one last glance at Percy, he went back to work. Percy stood there, eyes still fixed on him and smile still in place, for a little longer.

Maybe he’ll be really looking at me, after all.

He was definitely ready to show off everything he could do.

~~~

They weren’t friends exactly, probably not even acquaintances. But something had shifted, and Percy could feel it every time he went to the beach - it wasn’t just him, wasn’t just the anticipation he felt or the way he spent most of his time thinking about the next time he would see and get to talk to Nico again; no, it was in the way they waved at each other in greeting when Percy got there (or sometimes when Nico’s shift started later and Percy got on the beach before him), or the way Nico was always the one who took Percy’s order at the kiosk, the way he smiled at Percy like he was happy to see him, the way Percy let himself linger there for as long as he could and Nico would never shy away from small talks.

It was all the little things piling up that made Percy’s heart run around like crazy, and he couldn’t hold back the smile coming up on his lips every time - he just hoped it didn't look as enamored and lovestruck as he felt.

His crush was growing every day, every moment. Percy could feel himself fall harder and harder with every new word exchanged, every new smile and little laugh, every new thing he learned about Nico. He was probably going a little crazy with how much he liked that boy.

He went to the beach as often as he could, even just to get a glimpse of him and for those fast and precious moments they got to share.

Today he hadn’t planned on going, but he had finished earlier at work and his feet had brought him there almost without him realizing. It was later than usual, and he didn’t even have anything with him. Yet there he was, sitting at his usual place at the kiosk, trying his best not to make it obvious that he was looking at Nico, busy with another customer.

“Nico will take your order in a moment”, the other guy, the blond one who also worked there, told him. 

“It’s okay, I can wait”, Percy replied. It took him a moment to realize that it was weird that the guy hadn’t simply taken his order himself. He worked there too, right? And he didn’t look busy, he was just there chatting with an elf-looking Mexican guy. 

Percy didn’t know if he was feeling more grateful or more embarrassed at this - was it really that obvious that he was there for Nico? At the same time though, the fact that apparently it was a thing, that Percy was Nico’s own customer, that the other guy didn’t even question it, like he knew it - well, it was making Percy feel stupidly giggly and hopeful.

“Ehi, hi Percy”, Nico greeted him, and Percy finally got out of his own head, but only to feel himself fall once again as he met Nico’s eyes and pretty smile. “The usual?”

“Hi, Nico”, he said. His throat felt dry, his heart lost a beat or two. “Yeah, thanks”.

Oh he was too pretty. Annabeth and Grover had laughed at him when Percy had spent a whole evening telling them about every little detail of Nico’s features, how he must have been an angel - because there was no way a human being could be that incredibly and otherworldly beautiful, right?

No, you’re just completely gone for that guy, Seaweed brain, Annabeth had said.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen you having this big of a crush, Percy, had been Grover’s contribution.

And they were both absolutely right. Percy really didn’t remember the last time he had been so head over heels for someone, couldn’t even remember the last time he had had a crush at all. But Nico - god, Nico was making him feel everything all at once.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today”, Nico said, and Percy’s brain short-circuited for a moment. So Nico thought about seeing him? Did he look forward to see him just as much as Percy did? 

“The weather isn’t so good and it looks like the waves aren’t big enough to surf”, Nico kept going.

Percy needed a second to find his words, too enraptured by the shy yet curious look in Nico’s eyes. He had such a nice voice, too, Percy loved listening to him talk.

“Uhm, yeah, I actually wasn’t planning on coming today”, he managed to say in the end. “But I finished earlier at work, so I thought I’d pass by and get my favorite drink”.

Nico smiled softly at that, and Percy counted it as a victory.

“You’re literally the only one who orders this”, Nico said.

“So it’s like a special drink just for me?”

Flirting came to him way too easy when he talked to Nico. Maybe it was the need to see the light blush tinting his cheeks. He blushed so easily, and it was always so evident on his pale skin. Percy loved it.

This time too, Nico rolled his eyes at him, but the blush was there. It was starting to become Percy’s new favorite color.

“Where do you work at?”, Nico asked after a moment. Percy didn’t mind too much that he had ignored his previous flirting. It was endearing, really, that Nico was so shy. 

“Oh I teach kids how to swim at the pool near here”.

Somehow, that seemed to hit Nico, because he stopped to look at Percy with such surprise and awe in his eyes that it was Percy’s turn to blush in embarrassment. He was looking at him like Percy had just told him he went around saving the world on a daily basis.

“That’s so…”, Nico started, then stopped, cleared his throat and looked away. “That’s cute. You look like you’d be good with kids”.

“You think so?”, Percy smiled.

He liked sharing things with Nico, liked telling him about himself, cherished it when Nico told him something about himself. 

“Do you like working here?”

“I do, I guess. It’s a good summer job”, Nico said, meeting Percy’s eyes. “And it’s allowing me to meet some interesting people”.

Percy's heart started to beat ridiculously loud in his chest. “Yeah? You don’t look like you like meeting people a lot though”.

That made Nico’s laugh. Percy sort of wanted to drown in the sound.

“I don’t, usually”, Nico said. “But I guess I can make an exception for some people”.

Percy wanted to kiss him so bad. Wanted to take him on a date and make him smile and laugh the whole time, wanted to hold his hand as he told him about himself, wanted to share everything he could with him, wanted to card his fingers through his dark silky hair and pull him closer and closer to him until he could press his lips to his and feel the rings under his teeth.

“Some special people?”

Another laugh, and that beautiful shade of pink on his cheeks. “Yeah, special”.

Oh Percy was so far gone for him.

#percy jackson #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percico #nicercy #pernico #percy x nico #pjo #i had actually written another chapter before this then realize that i needed them to get to know them a little more #before that #so i have the next chap almost completly written already #and the chap after that! i cant wait to write it!!! i have it planned it out already #our disaster boys are getting there #oh but how i love writing them pining for each other #my fics #goth/surfer percico

[insomnya777]

Etho was sick. 

Etho was sick and exhausted and his head hurt and he had stupid cramps and he felt like throwing up every time he sat up. 

Joel was too nice. 

Joel, upon walking into Etho's barely furnished house, had talked to him and stayed with him and gotten him everything he'd asked for even when Etho was being incredibly annoying. 

Etho was too sick to figure out why he was doing this.

Read on AO3

#my fics #ermmmm guys this one is not that good #had it sitting in my drafts for a while. polished it up a little (and i mean a LITTLE) and hit post #so don't go into this expecting something super great #but basically etho is sick and on his period bc i'm sick and on my period so if i'm sick he has to suffer too #also we need more trans etho. because i love him #nya talks #joel smallishbeans #boat boys #smalletho #ethoslab #hermitblr #hermitfic #hermitshipping

[herenya-writes]

To Kneel at Your Feet

So, uh, I tried my hand at a little Dreamling fic when a particular image wouldn't get out of my head.

~1850 words, Rated T (violence, non-graphic injuries, a bit of foul langauge), pre-relationship Dreamling set a few months after Dream escapes the fishbowl but before he's told Hob who he is

When a shadow fell over him, Hob figured he was fucked. Well, even more fucked than he already had been.

The day had started pretty normal. Term was over for the summer, and he had finally finished the last of the marking the night before, so he had let himself laze in the sunny patches of his bed until almost noon when the grumbling of his stomach drove him to the kitchen for food. The rest of the day had been syrupy slow, with a light frisson of anticipation running through. He was meeting his Stranger tomorrow morning for brunch, their first pre-evening meeting and the fifth one they had had since his Stranger had returned. So it was with a spring in his step that he had gone through the rest of the day, chatting with Mrs. Giles up the road about whether he could buy a few cases of her jam to serve at the Inn, taking a stroll around the park, mixing up a batch of scones. When Sasha called in sick, he had gladly picked up their shift bar-tending at the Inn, and even that had been lovely. A faster pace than the rest of his day, sure, but the night had been full of familiar faces and easy laughter.

He had been closing up the Inn and wiping down the last of the tables when the bell above the door rang. He didn’t get out so much as a word before the bullets were flying.

He managed to dodge them for a good while, but even his immortal body got tired of crouching and diving eventually. Plus, there were three of them, all armed, and only one of him. He had a bat and an array of knives behind the bar and an assortment of weapons in his flat above, but he didn’t see how he could get to either of those places unscathed. He’d survive, of course, but that could cause even more problems depending on how smart these thugs were.

His next dodge had been a bit too slow, and as he slid behind the sturdy oak of one of the booths a bullet buried itself in his shoulder. He snarled at the pain and pressed a hand to the wound on instinct. His immortality meant he’d survive no matter how many times these assholes shot him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the bite of metal burrowing into his flesh.

It was as he was leaning against the wood, listening for footsteps and considering his options that a shape blocked the light above him. He swore and held up an arm to guard his face on instinct, but when he looked up it wasn’t one of the thugs he saw.

In the muted light of the Inn, his Stranger stood, clothed as always in his black coat, jeans, and boots, a minuscule frown pulling at his lips.

Without thinking, Hob grabbed the hem of his Stranger’s coat and yanked him down. His Stranger went, and a millisecond later bullets soared through the air where he had been standing.

“Sorry, friend. You chose a dangerous time to stop by,” he gasped. He had grabbed his Stranger with his left arm, and the bullet wound in his shoulder was protesting loudly.

His friend’s face took on a pinched expression, brows furrowing in a way that would have been adorable in another situation.

“You are injured,” he observed, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder. Hob could listen to that voice all day, and despite the circumstances he could feel his heartbeat slowing at just those three words. “You are not healing as you should.”

Hob blinked and looked down. Damn, his Stranger was right. One of the side effects of his immortality was that any injuries he sustained healed rapidly. Serious stuff like disembowelment still took a long (and excruciatingly painful) time to heal, but the process happened much faster for him than a normal human. He had been stabbed in a knife fight once in his second century of living and by the time the other fellow had hit the floor the only evidence of the wound had been the blood on his skin and the tear in his shirt. A bullet hole should have shown evidence of closing by now, but it was still gaping open and bleeding freely.

“At least I won’t have to cut the bullet out later,” he joked, but the tremble in his voice ruined his attempted levity.

“There are very few weapons in this world or another that could harm you so,” his Stranger declared, and something like lightning flashed in his eyes. His expression turned stone cold, and in a fluid movement he rose to his feet and turned toward the gunmen. Hob scrambled up after him, biting back curses, but he stopped short when he realized there weren’t any bullets flying through the air.

In the space of a blink, all the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and gather around his Stranger, and Hob swore he saw recognition begin to dawn on the face of the lead thug as his Stranger stepped forward and extended one pale arm.

“Servants of the Morningstar, by what edict do you walk the Earth and seek the life of one to whom Death has denied her gift?” His Stranger’s voice buzzed with barely-restrained power, and something deep in Hob’s human brain told him to run and hide. He stayed where he was, though, and so did the gunmen, even as they trembled in obvious fear.

“Dead or not, the glory of claiming an immortal’s head for Lucifer’s throne room is undying,” the one in the middle declared. Hob was almost impressed with how even their voice was.

“You have attacked him in his home, unarmed and unaware of your challenge. There is no glory here, hellspawn.” His Stranger spat the word ‘glory’ like it was vinegar on his tongue, and all three creatures (he had thought they were human, but now he could swear an outline of fire flickered around them) recoiled. Still, they didn’t flee.

“He is unclaimed, Dreamlord. Glory or not, he’s ours for the taking!”

The shadows in the room deepened impossibly, and the air pressure dropped fast enough that Hob’s ears popped and every hair stood on end. His Stranger took a menacing step forward, standing directly between him and the gunment now. When he spoke, the power in his voice shook the floorboards and set Hob’s very bones buzzing.

“Is that so? Allow me to correct that oversight.”

His Stranger threw back his coat, and it melted into a midnight black robe. The folds of the fabric were ablaze with swirling galaxies that seemed to spill into the shadows that surrounded him. The power radiating off him now was equal parts strange and familiar, like hearing a song for the first time but immediately knowing the chorus. Any unease Hob had felt settled at once, even as the gunmen began to quiver and keen in dismay. His Stranger spoke over their sounds of distress, his voice firm and unyielding. In that moment, Hob had no doubt that he could make any declaration and reality would bend itself to reflect his will.

“I, Dream of the Endless, Shaper of Forms, Oneiromancer, Prince of Stories, King of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms, declare Hob Gadling to be under my protection. Harm him and know the unfettered wrath of the Dreaming.”

Hob had been a lot of things in the past 600-plus years. He’d tried his hand at just about everything that had held his attention for longer than a week, and he had even been decent at a fair chunk of it. Hell, he’d even been knighted once! Right now, he probably had enough wealth squirreled away in stashes across the world to keep him living comfortably for the next two hundred or so years. At his core, though, he was nothing more than a peasant.

His knee hit the floor before his Stranger even finished speaking, and he barely felt the way the movement shocked his still-bleeding shoulder. All he could do was gaze up at his Stranger, awe, in the oldest sense of the word, flooding him. Dream of the Endless. His Stranger had a name. His Stranger was a king.

He wasn’t sure what happened with the thugs after that. There was a moment when the Inn got so dark all he could see where the pinpoints of light in his Stranger’s eyes and the galaxies swirling in his robe, and the next the light had returned and his Stranger had turned that fathomless gaze on him.

He lowered his eyes. “My king.” His tongue was heaving in his mouth, and his throat was sand paper. There was a spit of crimson blood, his blood, on the hem of his Stranger’s robe.

“You would kneel and call me king? Even after the wrongs I have committed against you? I did not even grant you the courtesy of my name.” Power still rumbled in his Stranger’s voice, but it was leashed now in a way that sent a spark racing up Hob’s spine. God help him, but he had always loved a bit of danger.

He risked a glance up and saw his Stranger’s perfect lips twisted in a frown, his brows drawn together like Hob was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I don’t need anything from you that you aren’t ready to give, my friend. You came back to me, and that was more than I could ever hope for.” Those words strayed a bit too close to another truth—that he would have waited forever just for a glimpse of his Stranger’s face, just to hear a single word from his lips—but Hob wasn’t about to start lying now, not when this magnificent creature, this otherworldly lord, had deemed him worthy of his time and attention despite all odds. His Stranger had returned after over 100 years to sit in a pub and listen to Hob ramble about airplanes and smartphones and humanity reaching the moon. How could anything he had to say possibly have captured the attention of a king with no doubt a million other duties to attend to?

His Stranger regarded him, galaxies swirling in his black eyes to match the ones dancing across his robe. Hob tore his gaze back to the floor for fear of falling in.

“Rise. You owe me no servitude or obeisance, Hob Gadling.”

Hob wanted to disagree, but he kept his mouth shut and did as his lord bid. He bit back a growl of pain as he stood, and in a blink his Stranger was there, long arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him up with unnatural strength. Together, they hobbled up the stairs to his flat, and his Stranger laid him gently on the couch and let Hob grip his hand too tightly as he dug out the bullet lodged in his shoulder, seemingly uncaring of the way the crimson blood stained his pale fingers.

#Dreamling #the Sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my fics #herenya writes #the image of hob dropping to his knees as soon as he realized Dream is a king wouldn't leave me alone #i know the ending is a bit abrupt #but in my head this exists in a much longer context #maybe i'll write it one day

[bastionbibi]

Conan finding out that being a super secret spy isn't that great when you're in high school just trying to pass midterm but suddenly you find yourself being mobilized and having to sneak around at 8.32 p.m. on a Tuesday to chase down an escaped convict rather than going over the chemistry notes the TA gave you earlier.

#16 yr old conan from my Son. au im so sorry #u will never have an easy life im afraid... #detective conan #by the way that /thing/ in his hand has a silencer. i know its not effective but its better than nothing #conan #fanart #my fics #bibimade

[boojangs]

I was going through my wenclair drafts, and-

#thank fuck i never finished this I'd be a goddamn mess #wenclair #my fics

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Dead Boy Detectives Hunger Games Victor AU!

Here y'all go: a Dead Boy Detectives Victor AU ft. Edwin, Charles, Crystal, and Monty as Victors from different Hunger Games with an exploration of all of the traumatic fallout and complications that would come from that.

Monty gets up on the interview stage and it doesn’t matter what the other tributes have to say, because Monty tells Caesar Flickerman that the boy he fell in love with is the very Mentor trying to save him from the Arena.

It’s a dangerous move, but it just might save Monty’s life in the Arena and his body post-Arena. It might just keep him out of the same deal that Esther made for Edwin.

A familiar hand touches Edwin’s wrist backstage. Charles’ hands gently pry Edwin’s fingernails away from the bloody crescents they are carving into his palms.

“It was the only way I could protect him,” Edwin says, trying to plead with Charles to understand, because Edwin has to do anything he can to protect just one of his tributes.

Charles gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “You could’ve told me.”

But Edwin twists his wrist slightly so that Charles isn’t touching him, because he knows where this is going even if Charles does not. He knows whose life lays on the line if this plan fails, and it’s not just Monty’s.

(Years ago, the President made Edwin kneel and told him that Charles’ life was forfeit if Edwin ever disobeyed. And he won't risk that, even if it means breaking both of their hearts.)

Here's the link for y'all!

Also a playlist for those interested!

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @just-existing-as-you-do-blog @thelettersfromnoone @orpheusetude @magpiemarten @mj-irvine-selby

#edwin payne #charles rowland #monty the crow #monty finch #crystal palace #hunger games au #hunger games #edwin x charles #edwin x monty #fanfic #my fics #ao3 #dead boy detectives #victor au #fic update #writing update #listen i ENCOURAGE you to scream at me #Spotify

[rainbowrelyea]

So I did a thing and I put my Supercorptober 2023 ficlets up on AO3. Huzzah! Look at me with 5 whole works on my dashboard now 😄

#supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl cw #supercorp fanfics #my fics #ficlets #its all fluff

[threebea]

Chapters: 4/?

Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, 212th Attack Battalion Members 

Summary: Cody gets a new Jedi assigned to the 212th Attack Battalion after he is forced to execute his last one. He has enough experience to know how this new Jedi will behave.

But the Sith Slayer proves himself to be the exception to all of Cody's expectations.

Cody leads his unit, fights a multi-front war, and tries to figure out JM-031.

Chapter Summary: Cody uses an important mission as an excuse. He finds both of the men he is escorting unpleasant for very different reasons.

Cody and Kenobi finally talk.

#Codywan #my fics #bail stirring things up #mandalorian negotiations on the horizon #last name basis is a step forward I think

[mistmarigold]

Lovely runner fic (that’s completely canon)

Preview: After the radio interview when Sunjae talks about his first love and Sol wonders who it is.

[aka shoutout to original timeline sunjae and his suffering]

—

At last, he was finally free from his daily schedule and could finally get some rest. Boy, was he wrong.

The earlier conversation today wouldn’t leave his mind. Saying those words out loud, so many years later, it triggered something within him. For so many years, those feelings have been dormant. Forever there, etched in his very being. But saying them out loud like this gave them a new life. Inhyuk was always his person to share everything about Sol but then the accident happened. He no longer had it in him to talk about her when he failed to do the one thing he should’ve been able to do: protect her from any harm.

And so, acknowledging his first love out loud like that felt strange. Saying that it was a secret gave him a fake security blanket that he didn’t know he needed. But now, in the late hours of the night, his thoughts were consumed by her. Again.

If someone was to ask what has remained constant for him since his debut, the answer would be her. She has remained a constant, immovable force on his mind, heart and body. The scar he carried on his forehead was the literal proof that there was a moment in time and space when he held her in his arms. How cruel is fate that it had to be under circumstances that he wished would never exist for them, when she was on the brink of death, and when she lost the life she knew?

It wasn’t fair to her that he still loved her. He didn’t have any right to even think of her, let alone love her from afar. It wasn’t enough that he was no longer in her life, he shouldn’t even have the privilege of having the thought of her. She deserved better than that. If he could fail her in her most vulnerable moment, who was to say he wouldn’t do much worse?

That day, all he had to do was wake her up at their bus stop. Like normal human beings, like neighbours. But he didn’t, just because he couldn’t get over the nervousness of talking to his crush. How could mere nervousness lead to such a catastrophe? How could his minor oversight lead to her losing so much? How could he even be in her life when he knew he could’ve protected her from all of it in the first place? He might’ve saved her, but he failed to protect her and that’s something he could never get over.

In the early days of his debut, he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. It was hard for him to look at himself and meet his own eyes - he feared he would see a deep rot within. How was he reaping the benefits from a song that was written about her, while she was in so much pain? Their first time for the radio interview - they clapped, laughed and celebrated their debut. All the while she was in hospital, in excruciating pain and volatile grief that had nowhere to go.

When the radio host mentioned the sneakers, he wanted to hurl himself out the window. But he didn’t - he wanted to hear her voice more. It was the only opportunity he had to check in on her, to perhaps see if she knew him, but more importantly, to talk to her - something he couldn’t do by himself. Not on their first day, not in the store, and not on the bus. This was his only chance and so he told her the one thing he desperately wished to say to her: ‘Thank you for being alive’. Perhaps Sol might have thought he was being generic, that he was just saying things. But even if the circumstances were different, even if - by some miracle - the two of them were together, Sunjae would’ve still wanted to let her know how grateful he was that she was alive, that she existed in the same world as him. He would’ve never been able to express enough gratitude for her existing in his life.

In the early hours of the morning, Sunjae wondered if Sol was doing well. He hoped that she was thriving, despite the cruel hand the fate dealt her with. He prayed that she still had that same smile on her face as the first day they met; that she slept as peacefully as that day in her mom’s store; that she held on and lived.

He desperately hoped she lived.

#this wouldn’t leave my head #i had no intention of doing this #but here we are #og timeline sunjae is for the angst sufferers #i terribly wish we had more of him #lovely runner #byeon woo seok #kdrama #kim hye yoon #lovely runner fics #my fics

[dadbodbuck]

several sentences sunday

from the ecologist!buck au:

The next day at work, when they’re washing the truck, Hen immediately starts picking on him. “Something happened. What happened?”

“Why does something have to have happened?” Eddie rolls his eyes, even though he knows it’s only a matter of time before he spills.

“You’ve been texting someone all day,” Hen points out, gesturing to Eddie’s pocket, where his phone is resting.

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to have friends?”

“You don’t have friends, not outside of the firehouse,” Hen rolls her eyes, “Either your Abuela’s gotten a lot more chatty when I wasn’t looking, or something happened.”

Eddie sighs. “Okay, when I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out, okay?”

“Why? Eddie, what’s—”

“Promise!” Eddie insists, “Or I won’t tell you.”

“I promise I’ll be so normal about whatever you’re about to tell me,” Hen says, in a tone of voice that means she is going to disregard that promise as soon as Eddie starts talking.

Whatever. “You remember my neighbor, Buck?”

“No,” Hen gasps, “Eddie, you dog.”

“Listen!” Eddie says defensively, “He’s—wait, why aren’t you freaking out more?”

“What, did you expect me, a lesbian, to be surprised that you hooked up with a man?” Hen raises an eyebrow at him, “My gaydar is finely tuned. With years of practice. In fact, Chimney owes me money, so if you could just repeat what you said into my phone’s microphone, that would be—”

“Henrietta, I am not recording myself saying I hooked up with my neighbor for your stupid bet,” Eddie gripes, “Besides, we agreed just to be friends after.”

“Why would you do that?” Hen asks, “Was it not… good?”

“No, it was…” Eddie says, stopping when Hen gives him a look, “What?”

“So you had absolutely mind-blowing sex with your neighbor—”

“Okay, it wasn’t mind-blowing—”

“It wasn’t?” 

Eddie doesn’t respond, just purses his lips and leans against the truck they’re supposed to be cleaning.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Okay, you know what, fuck you—”

“Wouldn’t you rather be fucking someone else?”

“That’s it!” Eddie says, pointing the spray bottle of soapy water at Hen threateningly, “One more word, Henrietta, and it’s your ass.”

“Wilson! Diaz! What is going on?” Bobby shouts from the loft. Eddie supposes their conversation had been getting a little rowdy.

“Eddie’s being mean!” Hen yells, at the same time that Eddie says, “Hen’s being nosy!”

“Just clean the truck, or I’ll have to find someone else to do it and put you two on other, separate chores!” Bobby admonishes, but he doesn’t seem that mad about it, and he walks away without further incident.

“You are a menace,” Eddie hisses, spraying the truck so Hen can wipe it down.

Hen throws her head back and laughs at him, but eventually they do get on with the truck cleaning. You know. To keep up appearances, and such.

When they’re done, and Hen tosses the rag into the laundry bin, she turns to Eddie. “I am proud of you. Regardless of how much you freaked out after your hot farmer neighbor absolutely rocked your world.”

“How did you know I freaked out?” Eddie frowns, walking with Hen to the supply closet to return the spray bottle.

Hen smiles at him and shuts the door to the supply closet. “You seemed like you would. Do you want to talk about it? Here, in private?”

Yeah. He kinda does.

“I just—I feel so bad,” Eddie groans, rubbing at his eyes, “I totally freaked out. And he thought he hurt me, and I realize now that I spent so long being a dick to him because I was attracted to him and I guess I have some shit to work through.”

“That’s a lot,” Hen says, “Did you apologize?”

“Yeah, and he apologized about thirty times for not checking in enough,” Eddie says, sighing and leaning against one of the shelves, “And then we decided maybe it would be best to be friends. So could you please do me a favor and not mention this to anyone else? Besides the fact that it’s embarrassing, I’m not… sure if I’m ready to have that conversation with anybody.”

“Conversation?” Hen asks, raising an eyebrow at Eddie.

“The one where I might be gay,” Eddie says, feeling a surge of panic in his chest. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud to someone other than Buck, and he barely counts that time because he’s still not entirely sure it happened.

Hen softens, reaching out for the junction where Eddie’s arms are crossed over his chest and squeezing. “Eddie, you know it’s okay, right?”

“Hen, I’m not homophobic, I promise, I just—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hen says, shaking her head, “I mean, whatever happens after this is okay. If you date Buck, that’s okay. If you’re friends, that’s okay too. It’s okay if you’re gay, or bi, or if you somehow realize you’re straight, even though I sincerely doubt you are. You don’t have to decide anything now. In fact, you don’t ever have to decide.”

“I don’t?” Eddie asks, in a horribly small voice.

Hen smiles at him, fond and warm. “No, you don’t ever have to be anything other than yourself.”

#my fics #fic tag: kitchen table ecology