#blue screen or turn tomato

[deadmomjokes]

PSA: tomatoes are not spicy. Tomatoes and tomato products should not be spicy. Pizza sauce isn't inherently spicy. Tomato-based pasta sauce is not spicy. Ketchup is NOT spicy.

If tomatoes are spicy, you have an allergy to tomatoes.

This announcement brought to you by my almost 29-year-old husband learning for the first time in his 2.8 decades of putting food products into his mouth that spaghetti and saucy pizza aren't spicy foods

#his amazement at our daughter eating spaghetti willingly #when apparently he's been suffering in silence over there his whole life #and i'm like ???? #and he's like ''you didn't make this spicy?'' #NO #NO I DID NOT #and he just blue screens for a minute #and i'm like YOU THINK SPAGHETTI IS SPICY??? #and he's all ''yeah that's why i prefer we don't have it very often'' #the absolute SHOCK i tell you #turns out he hates ketchup because it's spicy and he never understood why people wanted to dip fries in spicy sauce #i was like ''DUDE ketchup is supposed to be sweet and maybe a touch tangy but also cool and refreshing'' #and he's like ''SWEET?????'' #so uh yeah turns out dude's allergic to tomatoes and he just assumed everyone had a way higher spice tolerance than him #cuz he can find ''non spicy'' food too hot #and it's just all tomato based stuff and we never thought to connect the dots #mild salsa? too spicy. IT'S THE TOMATOES. #tacos? too spicy even at baby heat levels. IT'S THE TOMATOES. #prefers alfredo to marinara despite alfredo having objectively more pepper in it than marinara #he thought his spice tolerance was just so wimpy that my 'normal' was too spicy for him #so he's just been dealing with 1-3 meals a week being spicy to him our entire marriage WITHOUT SAYING A WORD #because he didn't want to offend me with his wimpy palate #IT'S THE TOMATOES #it's always been the gosh darn tomatoes

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Forgotten sons, Forgotten dates, Eddie coming to your rescue & Florence.

Masterlist Listen to Disarm Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:8554 beta'd by @superblysubpar

The slow roll of red and blue lights reflects on the big picture window in your living room, casting a glare across the TV screen. Shifting from your stomach, your head turns to meet the anxious expressions worn by your parents. The handful of popcorn you were holding falls to the beige-colored carpet where you’d been sprawled. 

‘Honey…” your dad’s concerned voice cautions, but it’s too late. You are on your feet, greasy fingerprints transferred to your flannel pajama pants as you walk straight toward the door.

“Honey, don’t. It’s not our business.”

As the door swings open, a gust of frigid November air washes over you. Your bare feet meet an icy sting from the frozen boards of your porch. The staticky voices from police radios crackle through the cold night air, their words blending into an indecipherable hum as they float down the street. The wood underneath your feet turns to the scrape of cement as you leave the warm safety of your home and run down the rain-washed street towards the ambulances and police cruisers. Fallen red and yellow leaves stick to the pavement, their colors vivid in the flashing lights reflecting off the wet road.

Time stretches like a rubber band, lengthening each moment. People in uniforms hurry past, paying you no attention as you call out his name. The smell of damp earth mixes with the acrid scent of diesel from the idling vehicles. Bright lights from inside the house spill out into the dark from the open front door.

“Eddie,” you cry out again as a hand closes over your elbow, tugging you back.

“You can’t be here.”

You struggle, attempting to break free from the policeman's grip as he pulls you away. Your head turns, and your eyes finally find his. Frightened doe eyes peer back from a pale face tinged with blue. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, he looks much smaller, like the world has pressed its full weight down on him. The gray blanket covering his shoulder doesn’t protect him from the shattering of the only life he knows. 

“Eddie,” you whisper his name, your voice trembling. He tries to stand, shrugging off the woolen blanket, his hand reaching out as the EMT seals the doors. The ambulance roars to life and speeds away, leaving you alone with the taste of salt from your tears mingling with the cold, crisp air. A gurney rolls past, bearing a figure lying motionless beneath a white sheet. Only a portion of her face is visible, her features obscured by a patchwork of black and blues, her dark hair falling to the side like a shroud.

"I've got her."

Your dad's strong voice breaks through the chaos as he sweeps you up from the policeman's grip. He holds you close, carrying you away like he did when you were much younger, your face buried in his shoulder, tears dampening the fabric of his jacket. The world blurs as his steps bring you closer to home. You cry for the boy who will face the rest of this world alone.

“Egg-white omelet with tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. No spinach. And I’ll have a side of bacon, very crispy but not blackened,” Nancy says, handing her menu to the waiter before shifting her eyes toward you. 

“Two eggs over easy, please–avocado toast and the fruit salad.”

“I’ll do the brioche french toast with the salted caramel and bananas. And extra whipped cream, please. Oh, and a side of sausage links.”

“What?” Robin asks after the waiter has left. “I’m hungry.”

“We just worked out,” Nancy scolds. 

“I did hot yoga. I need to replenish,” Robin explains, raising a mug of tea to her lips.

After moving here, a night out always ended with breakfast at The Friendly Toast, welcoming the sun as it rose over the city. As habits and routines changed, it evolved into a standing brunch for just the ladies after morning gym sessions. The diner’s retro black and white flooring and red vinyl upholstered seating still bears the same traces of syrup as it did all those years ago, but the food is good, and the wait is never long. 

"Was it the hot yoga or you're Saturday night with Taylor," you tease, earning a dreamy smile from a pink-cheeked Robin. 

"Yoga actually wasn't that hot this morning," Robin admits, biting her lip, reaching for the creamer pitcher at the center of the Formica table.

Now that you all have a bit more cash to spare, Nancy leans towards the idea of brunching in a bougier spot in your shared Gold Coast neighborhood, but Robin is a stickler for traditions. The charm of Nancy Sinatra playing over the speakers and the selection of boozy milkshakes are what win your vote. 

The food arrives quickly this morning. “Three hot plates for three hot ladies,” the waiter winks as he delivers generous portions on the ceramic oval plates. The smoky scent of bacon mixed with the sweetness of caramel. He pulls a silver canister from his apron pocket, giving Robin’s dish an extra squirt of whipped cream.

“Oh, he’s getting a very good tip,” Robin says, placing her napkin in her lap.

Laughing, you pick up your fork and break the yolk, letting the soft yellow drip onto the smashed avocado. Nancy rolls her eyes and picks up her beeping phone. 

"No phones," Robin chides around a mouth full of French toast.

"Sorry," Nancy says, tapping out a quick reply before placing her phone face down on the table, "My brother is driving everyone crazy.” She unwraps her silverware before continuing, “He wants us all to come to Florida for Christmas since it will be the first one in their new house, but Hawkins is so much easier for everyone. Holly is still in school, and Jonathan doesn’t want to take that much time off from work.”

“Sounds like Steve.” Your eyebrow lifts as you take a bite.

“Steve only works so hard because he wants to take care of you,” Robin says, pointing her fork in your direction.

“He adores you,” Nancy agrees, “You're lucky.”

“I know.” You pick at your eggs. It’s moments like this that make it clear they’ll always be Steve’s friends first. 

“Did you get the Bulls tickets for his birthday?” Nancy asks, before picking up a piece of bacon with her fingers and biting into it with an audible crunch.

“I ordered them last week,” you tell her, taking a bite of pineapple.

“I hope you got extra,” Robin says, dabbing some whipped cream from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. 

“You're not thinking of going now?” Nancy looks at her, surprised.

“No. Not for me,” Robin says, waving her off, “I’m sure he’ll want to invite Eddie now that he’s back in town.”

You sit up straighter in your chair, just the mention of Eddie's name has tension rippling down your spine. “I got him six tickets. He’ll have three extra to invite whoever he wants,” you say, settling the matter.

“Let me know how much I owe you for me and Jonathan,” Nancy tells you.

“I got it,” you assure her, “Just buy him a foam finger or something.”

“It’s his birthday. You’re really not going?” Robin prods, her voice carrying a note of judgment.

“Not if I can help it. You know I don’t like sports.” It's the same answer as the first time she brought it up, a few weeks ago. “He’ll have more fun with people who appreciate it. I’ll celebrate with him when we’re alone.”

“Say no more,” Nancy says, raising her hands as she looks down at her plate.

“Come on, Nance,” Robin laughs, “You used to celebrate with him in the exact same way.”

“Robin,” Nancy whispers through clenched teeth, darting her eyes toward you.

“I don’t care, Nance. It’s ancient history,” you chuckle. Steve’s high school relationship with her ended with a lot of heartache, but they obviously weren’t right for each other. The friendship that they share today is different from his and Robin's. She understands the pressure that he's under. 

“I’ve always wanted to know,” Robin says, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Who is better, Steve or Jonathan?”

“Don’t answer that,” you chuckle, patting Nancy’s hand as her face cycles through several shades of pink. 

“I won’t,” she glares at Robin. “Oh, wait. I don’t owe you,” she says, turning back to you and shifting the conversation, “You owe me. I can’t believe you scooped us on Eddie’s studio opening.”

Sighing heavily, you fill your mouth with a big bite of your breakfast, but the taste is off now. This story is a relentless storm cloud, always hovering, disrupting the peace. He's only been here a week and here's another argument. Hurricane Eddie. He must be pleased, relishing the storm he's brought into your life.

“Spectrum doesn’t even write about music,” Robin points out with a slice of banana at the end of her fork.

“It would have been a great piece for Chicago Lifestyles. We even could have hyped it up on an episode of Chronicle,” she complains, mentioning the human interest show that Spectrum runs profiling things happening in the city. “I’m the one that organized his welcome night, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Don’t look at me." You raise your hands in front of you. 

“Why did he tell you and not me that he was moving here?” Robin adds her own touch of gripping. “I should have been in charge of that.”

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Nancy tells her, “You’ve never been able to keep a secret.”

“But you’re very pretty,” you chuckle, diffusing the situation.

“Thank you. I am,” she responds, swirling her last bite in caramel before popping it into her mouth.

Your laughter blends with the background din of conversation and the gentle clinking of silverware as you savor the last bites of your meal. When the check arrives, Nancy insists on covering the bill, urging you to put your share toward the cost of Steve's tickets, and Robin leaves behind the promised very generous tip. With your plates cleared and goodbyes exchanged, the three of you leave the crowded restaurant.

As you trail behind Robin and Nancy, your phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. Fumbling through the pockets of the jacket you're carrying, you step out onto the bustling sidewalk, teeming with people entering and exiting the diner. Lost in distraction, you collide head-on with a solid chest. Strong hands instinctively grasp your biceps, preventing you from stumbling further. As your gaze lifts, you're met with the chestnut eyes that have been the wind, stirring up your world. 

“Whoa. Careful, doll,” he says, surprise lacing his tone.

“What are you doing here?” You demand.

Flecks of gray paint pepper the tangle of dark curls pushed back from his face, joining the streaks and spatters covering his ripped jeans and a long-sleeved white tee, his wide eyes drinking you in.

“He’s meeting me,” Robin says, appearing beside you. “I’m taking him to meet an artist he’s commissioning. See, I can keep a secret.”

He’s still holding you, his eyes locked with yours, each ridge of his fingertips searing into your skin, the pressure of grip alternating like he’s reluctant to let you go. 

“I’m late,” you murmur, pulling away from his touch and turning in the opposite direction to walk down the road toward your car. 

"I’ll be right back,” he tells Robin before his footsteps echo on the sidewalk behind you. He waits until the restaurant is just out of sight.

“Doll-”

Keeping your pace purposeful, you push past people heading in the opposite direction, feigning deafness to his voice amidst the sound of traffic.

“Doll, just wait,” his hand brushes your elbow, but you spin before he can secure a grip. “Jesus. Will you give me a minute,” he mutters, frustration etching lines on his forehead as he rakes his hand through his hair.

“What do you want?” You ask, cradling your jacket closer to your chest.

“I had no idea you were here. I wasn’t trying to ambush you back there,” he tries to explain.

“It’s fine, Eddie.” Your eyes glance at the people passing around you. “You made it perfectly clear you’re going to go wherever you like.”

His tongue peeks out, wetting his top lip as he shakes his head. “Look, I wanted to tell you I don’t want you to do the interview.”

“Wow, okay.” Your eyes scrunch as the sting of rejection overpowers the butterflies filling your stomach.

“No,” he winces at his choice of words. “I want you too.” 

“You’re giving me whiplash here.” You finally meet his gaze. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to see you. Talk to you, but I don’t want you doing this interview hating me because you were forced into it.”

“It’s a little late for that-”

“No. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can tell them…I can say I changed my mind.” His words carry a weight of earnestness, a sincerity that chips at the wall you’ve built between you. The instinct not to trust him, to remember all the times he’s let you down, wars with the truth in his eyes, begging you for acceptance. 

“We are both professionals. I can write it.” Your foot taps a quick rhythm against the pavement, as your face stays blank with defiance.

“If you’re sure...” he trails off, his eyes burning into yours as he waits for your answer.

The words form and reform on the tip of your tongue until the truth slips past, “I don’t hate you, Eddie,” you admit just above a whisper. 

“Well, that’s something,” he murmurs, searching your face.

The buzzing from your pocket resumes as the world shifts back into focus, breaking through the momentary understanding. 

“I’ve got to go,” you tell him, motioning towards your car. “The magazine will call and set something up soon.”

He blows out a breath as his shoulders lower. “I guess I’ll see ya round then,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

You nod, turning in the direction of your car, leaving him standing on the sidewalk to watch you walk away, the city filling the space between you.

Steve’s assistant is at his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he speaks into a headset. With a pleasant smile and a wave, you pass by him, pausing at the double doors to knock once under the brass nameplate reading Harrington. You turn the knob without waiting for a response. Steve is seated behind his immaculate metal and glass-topped desk, not a paper out of place. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him frame a breathtaking view of the city's skyline while the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the plush beige carpeting. 

"Damn." He pauses with his coffee cup suspended halfway to his mouth, eyes roaming up and down your body. ‘Someone's a lucky guy.”

Biting your lip, his compliment has a smile lifting your cheeks. The velvet blazer covering over your shoulders crowns the plunging black silk tank you put on this morning. Its lacy edges trace the curves of your breasts, while your faux leather pants and ankle boots make your legs look miles long and hug your curves just right. 

“Yeah, well, big assignment today,” you reply, running your fingertips along the edge of his desk. 

In the past six years at Stax, you've delved into Ozzy's addiction, engaged Thom Yorke about climate change, and held the hand of a teary-eyed Taylor Swift as she cried over her ex. Your words have canonized the music that has woven the fabric of our culture. Eddie Muson is going to see you're not the same girl with stars in her eyes and headphones pressed to her ears. 

Steve’s brow furrows, etched with a deep V. "I was talking about me. Date night tonight, or did you forget?"

The blood drains from your face as you respond with a forced smile, "Of course, I didn't forget." The lie tastes bitter in your mouth. “I always want to look pretty for you.” Spinning his chair, your knees find their place on either side of his thighs as you straddle his lap. Your fingers gripping his starched collar. The notes of sandalwood from his cologne hit your nose, mixing with the scent of coffee. His features soften as his hands glide to your hips, and you tip your head and press your lips to his. “We’re meeting Robin’s new girlfriend tonight, right?”

“Taylor,” he confirms with a nod. “You’ll like her. She paints naked while listening to Jane's Addiction.”

“And how do you know this?” You laugh, your lips meeting his for the second time.

“I met her the other day when I took Robin to lunch.”

“Ahh," you respond with a playful grin, your thumb tracing along the stubble that lines his jaw. "That explains it."

“So, just an hour at the gallery, okay? We’ll have a drink and say hello-”

“If Robin lets us go,” you interrupt.

“Just an hour,” he reiterates, “Then I’m taking you to dinner alone. And we’ll go home for dessert,” he promises as his lips find their way to your neck.

“Hmm. Where are you taking me?” You ask as your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm not sure," he mumbles against your neck, “My assistant booked the reservation.” His lips trail lower, his grip tightening as his phone suddenly dances across the glass surface of his desk, its baseball jingle shattering the moment.

He picks up the phone, checking the number before setting it back down. “I’ll call them back,” he says absently before turning back to you. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I have a conference in fifteen minutes. What are you doing here, Ace?” He asks, his eyes glancing towards the desktop screen that has been chiming with incoming emails. 

“I’m meeting Jonathan. He’s driving over to CursedSound,” you say, climbing off him. “Thought I’d come say hi before I left.”

"Okay, you can tell me about it tonight," he responds, his tone distracted, as if he might not have truly registered your reply. He adjusts his glasses before refocusing his attention on the screen.

“Alright.” The clacking of his keyboard drowns out your quiet tone. You smooth out your shirt, sensing that you’ve been dismissed. He squints behind his glasses, tugging a handful of hair. Worry nags at the edges of your thoughts–he’s pushing himself too hard.

“See you tonight,” you call over your shoulder as you leave his office, not bothering to wait for the response that won’t come. 

"All set?" Jonathan asks as he slides behind the wheel of his Volvo XC, his camera equipment already secured neatly in the back.

"Yup," you reply, clicking your seatbelt into place and settling into the plush leather seat.

"You know you didn’t have to come today," he comments as he maneuvers onto the bustling streets of the Loop, navigating the notorious Chicago traffic. "I’m just taking a few shots of the inside before it’s all put together and maybe a few portraits for the digital content."

"Yeah, I know.” You glance at him, offering a warm smile. "But I wanted to run through my outline for the series with him so he can be fully prepared," you explain, pulling your phone from your pocket and opening your email.

Eddie hadn’t reached out or texted once since the diner. The clock ticked slowly all week long, surrounded by magazine articles and album inserts, piecing together clues about what Eddie had been doing for the last eleven years while your outline came together, his silence crawling under your skin like a nagging itch. Maybe press for the studio had been all he was after, and his interest after all this time had nothing to do with wanting to see you again. Well, this time, he doesn’t get to dictate the terms, to decide if you’re useful or if you should be discarded like a day-old newspaper. Given the circumstances, showing up uninvited and unannounced seems fair. 

After circling the block once, Jonathan finds a space to park across the street from the old brewery.

"Is this it?" You ask, using a hand placed over your brow to shield your eyes from the sun.

The older building stands out amidst the sleek, modern high-rises that dominate the commercialized neighborhood. Its rough limestone-clad facade wears the scars of time, with colorful graffiti adorning any surfaces within arm's reach of the fire escapes and a rather questionable-looking bodega with covered windows attached to the corner. However, the copper-framed bay windows gleam with a warm, aged patina, and the asymmetrical turrets, adorned with stamped rosettes and scallop patterns, give it a soul hiding beneath the urban decay—very Eddie.

"I wonder how much he’s paying to rent for this place?" You mumble.

"I think he bought it," Jonathan says, coming up beside you, weighted down with bags full of equipment.

You follow Jonathan around the corner to a rusted metal door adjacent to a brushed steel sign displaying the CursedSound Recordings name and logo, securely affixed to the brick wall. He presses the buzzer next to the door, and a screeching bell reverberates from inside. Metal grinds against metal as the locks release, and the door swings open.

"Right on time, Jon," Eddie greets, his eyes widening when he catches sight of you standing behind Jonathan. Your lips raise into a smirk as you stride past him, catching a whiff of the smoke and leather that cling to his skin as you enter through the open door. The short hallway opens into a bigger space. The heels of your boots clack against the scuffed parquet flooring as you move further into the room. Sofas and chairs covered by sheets surround a custom reception desk in the dimly lit room. Dust motes float in the beams of light that pierce through the rips in the brown paper-covered windows, revealing that this is inside of the bodega.

"This, uh... this will be the lobby," Eddie offers, gesturing vaguely around the room before his fingers rake through the curls at the back of his neck. He’s clad in a pair of expensive jeans that seem tailor-made for him and an open light grey dress shirt with a white tee underneath. His hair and beard are freshly trimmed but not too short, giving off that effortless California cool vibe. He’s grown into himself, carrying a confidence that comes with age and success. He looks good – it's annoying.

His stare prickles on your skin as he blinks at you like maybe you’re really a ghost of his past come to call. 

"Is there more?" You ask, your tone haughty.

"Yeah. The studios are upstairs." He nods toward the propped open door, revealing a stairwell behind. He takes one of the heavy bags from Jonathan before following him up the stairs. You grip the green-painted metal railing as you climb the grey-bubbled stair treads, pausing at the landing to take in the view of the street. The city moves by at the same blurring pace, unaffected and unaware of the collectives of its inhabitants. Someone should stop and look once in a while. 

The door at the top of the stairs leads to the wide hall that smells of drywall and paint. The deep red wall-to-wall carpet, the kind you’d find at a theater, looks new and plush, a contrast to the stark walls primed but not painted. Heavy black doors with the silver letters – A, B, & C denote the entrance to each studio. 

Jonathan sets the bag he’s carrying down by his feet and eyes the room. "Mind if I look around?"

"Knock yourself out," Eddie tells him, placing the other bag beside the first. "Studio C is the farthest along."

Jonathan crouches to unzip a bag, pulling a camera from its depths, fitting the strap over his head before he wanders to the first door marked A and lets himself in.

"Didn’t expect to see you here today, doll. You aren’t on my calendar til next week." Eddie turns to you once Jonathan disappears from sight.

"I came to see what I was working with." 

"By all means." He waves you forward.

Moving down the hall, you choose the door on the opposite wall – Studio C. The carpet is different in here, a rich velvet blue. The glass wall that is already in place reveals a spacious live room with strips of soundproofing covering half of the walls and more neatly piled on the floor. An isolation booth, where artists can focus on their vocals without distractions, has been framed out but remains unfinished.

"Well, what do you think?" Eddie asks.

An Interesting question. Your eyes wander, exploring the mixing room, where an impressive-looking soundboard remains veiled in plastic. A newly painted mural dominates the entire back wall – graffiti art portraying a massive skull shedding tears made of music notes that cascade onto yellow-bricked path winding through a cityscape. It exudes raw emotion and authenticity, just like the music that will soon resonate within these walls. You can already sense it murmuring from deep within, poised to fill the voids in people's souls, for that's what music does – it's an indelible tattoo on the heart, amplifying both pain and joy. This music – his music, will endure.

Standing in the room's center, you take a slow spin before locking your gaze with Eddie's.

"What a dump."

A deep furrow appears on Eddie's forehead as his lips press into a disapproving line. 

"Should I be wearing a hard hat?" You raise your hand above your head and inspect the sturdy ceiling like it might collapse at any moment. "Has a building inspector been out?"

He crosses his arms over his broad chest as his eyes narrow, pausing for a breath as his lips part. Jonathan strolls into the room, unaware of his interruption, surveying the space with a thoughtful expression. 

"Nice art. Is this the guy Robin hooked you up with?" He questions Eddie, who remains locked in his scowl. 

"Yeah, it is. He’s coming back to do a wall in the lobby," he answers without looking away from you.

"That will look great," Jonathan says, nodding. "I’m going to set up some lights and get a few shots in here." 

Eddie waits for Jonathan to wander back into the hall before he crosses the room in three big strides, stopping directly in front of you, closer than what would be considered polite. But this is Eddie, and it’s all part of the game. Your hands move to your hips as you straighten in defiance. The scent of mint on his breath reaches your nose as his index finger barely brushes your skin as he lifts the gold circle and bar necklace that rests at your throat. 

"Harrington’s money has sure got you spoiled, princess," he mocks, giving it a light tug, causing the anchor end of the chain to rise up the valley of your breasts. When your eyes flash, his lips pull to the side, twisting in a smirk. 

"I make my own money, Eddie." You remove your chain from his hand. "You sure have a lot of opinions about my life, considering you don’t even know me."

"I think I know you, plenty–"

He steps back when Jonathan reappears, bags in tow. He sets them down lightly before casting glances back and forth between the two of you, "Have you gone over your outline?" He asks. 

"Not yet," you reply, flashing a sweet smile up at Eddie.

Jonathan clears his throat, growing slightly impatient. "Well, this won't take me long, and I'll be ready to head back. Why don't you go downstairs? I don't want you in my shot."

As you stomp down the stairs behind Eddie, the echo of your boots reverberates off the empty walls, the window glass reflecting an image of the unassured, sad girl you left in Hawkins. He’s wrong. He doesn’t know you or the lengths you’ll go not to be her anymore. 

The reception area sits in hushed stillness, broken by the distant hum of traffic outside and the gentle ticking of pipes like a clock counting the seconds. Eddie pulls the sheet covering an orange velour couch, sending a light cloud of construction dust into the air. Without waiting for an invitation, you take a seat at one end of the sofa. He settles next to you, spreading his legs wide and crossing one over his knee, his arm landing on the top of the cushions behind you. He’s sitting too close, the heat of his thigh pressing against yours, the spice of his cologne surrounding you. Close enough to see the light stubble on his jaw as he swallows. You shift forward to the edge of your seat, creating some space between you.

"You can’t even sit next to me anymore?" He asks, his tone a mix of disappointment and irritation. 

"I’m sitting next to you right now." you point out, straightening your back further.

"Then relax. Jesus. You used to get mad if there wasn’t a seat for you next to me."

"Well, we’re not in high school anymore, Eddie."

"I’m not talking about high school," he murmurs, looking down at his lap before he raises his eyes to lock with yours. 

The first few notes of a song you never wanted to hear again ripple to the surface, dragging up memories that should have remained weighted down in the cold depths of things forgotten. He disarms you so effortlessly, whether with a smile or his words. This was all a big mistake.

"I'm sorry," his fingers encircle your wrist, knowing he crossed a line he shouldn't have. You pull your hand away from his grip, and he quickly changes the subject before you have a chance to stand up and leave. "Did you want to tell me about the article?"

Lips parting, you pause to exhale, the sting slowly dissipating. "My editor…" you clear your throat, reaching into the pocket of your blazer for your phone. "My editor wants a series. There will be three featured articles." You tap on the screen bringing up your notes. Eddie raises his eyebrows and leans in, trying to read over your shoulder, but you angle it away as you continue, "That means I'll need three interviews…will you stop," you say when he tries again to see the screen. 

"It's about me. I just want to see it," he argues, leaning further into your space.

"My god, you're like a little kid." Switching the phone to your opposite hand, you hold it at arm's length, "Haven't you grown up at all?"

His lips turn up until his dimples are on full display. "Why would I want to go and do a thing like that? 

The exasperated scoff that leaves your throat is accompanied by your eyes rolling to the side. 

"Not like you," he admits, his gaze roaming over you from head to toe. "After you interviewed Win Butler, he told me he couldn't have denied you the truth, and I'm beginning to understand why. Harrington’s got good taste. You've only gotten more beautiful."

Your features remain even as a gentle heat rises up your chest. "I'll be sure to pass on your compliments. I'm sure Steve will appreciate it. Three interviews," you say, displaying that number of fingers, dragging his attention back to the matter at hand. “The first will be on your past – early career, your move from Hawkins to LA. Then we'll move on to your present. Why you chose Chicago.The work you're putting into the studio and any projects you have booked when you open." You refer back to your notes, and this time, his eyes don't leave your face, intent on studying you. "The big finale will be the future. Where you see the studio in five years, your predictions on the direction of the industry. "

With a final tap, you show him the mock-up displayed on your screen, "I’m titling it Behind the Mixer: The Past, Present, and Future of Eddie Munson's Cursed Sound." You look up from your phone, your gaze locking with his.

His eyes are hesitant before he breaks your connection to look down at the device in your outstretched hand. "Wow, I'm impressed, doll." A rosy tint colors his cheeks. "It's so professional. Not used to seeing my name printed like I'm somethin'."

"You’ve had plenty of press," you remind him. "What did Rolling Stone call you? The man with the ear for platinum."

"Yeah, that's true. I've been written about before." He looks up, brown eyes burning into yours, your heads now just a few inches apart. "But never by you. They weren't your words."

The weight of his stare is too heavy. You turn your head to look around the room. Liar. The familiar itch prickles beneath your skin. 

"I’ve read everything you’ve written," he prattles on as you cross your arms over your chest, your fingernails leaving half moons in the fabric of your jacket. 

"I buy a subscription to Stax every year. I get Wayne one, too. Do you know he saves every–"

“Stop, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” He asks, his brows sinking.

“This.” You wave your hand between you. “Whatever this is. I’m going to write a good story. You’re getting what you want.”

“What I want?” He looks surprised. “You think this is about the article?”

“Isn’t it?”

His mouth parts, words teetering on the edge of his tongue, when Jonathan's footsteps cause the stairs to groan under his weight. "Finished?" Jonathan inquires, "I'd like to wrap up with a few shots of Eddie by the sign."

"We're done," you confirm, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

"No, we're not, doll," Eddie argues, "Actually, you go ahead, Jon. I'll give her a ride home."

"No, you won't." You stand, not sparing him a glance. "I have somewhere else to be."

"We're losing the light," Jonathan laments, camera in hand, gesturing for both of you to follow.

“You got big plans tonight? Sure you aren’t looking for an excuse not to finish our conversation?” Eddie presses, trailing behind you as you step through the side door out onto the street.

“Believe me, it’s definitely finished,” you state, firmness lacing your words, stepping aside to get out of Jonathan's way.

"Just stand in front of the brick," Jonathan directs, "To your left," he motions with his hand.

“And not that it’s any of your business," you let an air of condescension lace your tone, "But I have a date tonight with my fiancée.”

“Relax, Eddie. Don’t look at the camera," Jonathan instructs when Eddie's jaw clenches.

Eddie's thumbs hook into the pockets of his jacket. "Sounds romantic," he snarks. "How long have they been engaged now, Jon? Two years? And we still haven't received a wedding invitation. Someone's having cold feet. My money's on Harrington."

"His name is Jonathan. No one calls him that, Eddie." You cock your hip, crossing your arms. 

"I'm sure he would tell me if he minded," Eddie retorts, matching the irritation in your voice.

"I don't care," Jonathan sighs, "Can you just move around a bit and look down."

You narrow your eyes, inspecting Eddie as he gets into position."Did you cut your hair again?"

"I'm a thirty-two-year-old man. Sometimes I do that," he responds, scratching at his beard.

"Tip your chin to the right," Jonathan instructs from behind the camera, the shutter clicking in short bursts.

"Well, it looks stupid."

"Okay, I think I've got it," Jonathan says, lowering the camera. "Jesus, what is it with you two? If I wanted to listen to bickering, I’d go home to Nancy," he complains, with a red face. "Let's go."

The rush of water as it overflows from the upper stone basin into the fountain's pool blends the conversation of the other diners at the 3 Arts Club into the background. The atrium is dimly lit, relying on the massive crystal drop chandeliers cascading golden light and the flickering hurricane lanterns spilling candlelight onto the marble-topped table you're seated at. Steve smiles, holding your gaze as the waitress sets the plates in front of you. Swirls of green in his soft eyes are set off by the towering olive trees behind him, that give off a subtle woody aroma. 

“For a minute, I thought we weren't going to make our reservation.” He unwraps his silverware from the cloth napkin and places it in his lap. 

“We almost didn’t,” you point out, “I think Robin wanted us to stay and join them after Taylor’s show.”

“I’m glad we didn’t. I want some time alone with you.” He reaches across the table, fingers closing over yours.

“Thank you for bringing me here. This place is really beautiful.” Your gaze sweeps upward toward the towering glass ceiling, where the night sky glows a deep plum hue painted by the lights of the city.

“Is it?” he asks, his eyes locking onto yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “All I see is you.”

Your cheeks warm, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Eat your salad, you charmer.” You roll your eyes before looking up at him from under your lashes.

The side of his mouth lifts as he lets you go to pick up his fork, mixing the shavings of parmesan in with the crips romaine and the delicate bites of chicken. Your phone vibrates against your hip through the pocket of your blazer.

Eddie: What I said had nothing to do with the article. 

Without answering, you place your phone on your thigh, picking up your fork to break off a piece of salmon. The honey and black pepper melt on your tongue as you take your first bite. 

“What did you think of Taylor?” Steve asks, spearing a few of your truffle fries with his fork and setting them on the edge of his plate.

“You were right. I liked her,” you tell him as a faint buzzing emanates on your thigh. 

Eddie: If you would quit running away, I would have told you that in person. 

Run away? A knot ties itself in your stomach as you blink down at the message on your screen, only hesitating for a moment before tapping out a reply. 

You: I didn't run away. I had something better to do. 

"Did you like the blue watercolor of the thistles she did?" He asks as you look up, placing your phone face down on the table. 

"It matches the blue of the built-ins in your office. We could get rid of that old chair from your parent's basement. Redo the whole thing."  His eyebrows lift hopefully as your phone rattles on the marble.

Eddie: Is that why you're texting me right now because you're busy doing something better?

“You're not touching my chair. My entire office is off-limits. I like it the way it is,” your voice comes out too sharp. Your gaze flickers between Steve and the glowing screen of your phone as you type your response. 

You: Good point. An error on my part. Goodnight.

“I can always hang it in the guestroom. Who are you texting?” 

His question captures your full attention. “Sorry. It’s for work.” You switch the button at the top to silent and set it back down on the table. “You bought it, didn’t you?” You ask, sinking your fork into a few fries before dipping them in aioli. 

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes a big bite of his salad, avoiding your question as he chews.

“Steve, the house is going to be a museum to her ex-girlfriends. We’ll be able to give guided tours.”

He laughs, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Art is an investment. Even my dad agrees.”

“Oh, your dad, huh? I didn’t know he agreed with anything. Can I have a bite of your salad?” Your fork hovers over his plate as you catch the light of your phone screen lighting up out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah. Go for it.” He pushes his plate closer to you. “How was the salmon?” 

“Good. You want some?” You ask around a mouth full of lettuce.

“I’ll try a little,” he says, swapping around your plates as you set your fork aside and pick up your phone.

Eddie: I bet Harrington took you somewhere real fancy. He’s probably hoping it will get him laid.

Your eyes narrow at your screen as your jaw clenches and your heel taps beneath the table.  

You: He doesn’t have to hope. Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?

The wait for a response is short-lived as an image pops up on your screen. Sockclad feet are propped up on a coffee table beside a take-out box of tacos and a half-drained glass of beer, its foam running down the side. A hazy view of a television screen in the background. 

“Is that still work? Who’s texting you?” Steve asks, his eyes speculative as he leans forward and glances at your screen. 

“It’s just Eddie,” you dismiss the question with a wave of your hand as you darken the screen. "What about you? How are things with the radio launch?"

He studies your face a moment longer before his features soften, and he answers, "My workload has more than doubled. City Beats has as many divisions as Second City collectively, and I’m overseeing all of it.” His elbows land on the table as his hands tug through his hair. “I’m coordinating with marketing trying to promote it all across the city, and today, Richard called me into his office and said he wants me to meet the sponsors with Ted. Doesn’t think he can handle it on his own. Says I’m more advertiser-friendly.” He uses his fingers to quote the title.

“Can you tell him no?” You reach across the table for his hand. “It’s too much, Steve–for anybody. You've been working like this for months.”

“I can’t. The launch is in a few weeks, then I'll talk to Rich—” He stops mid sentence as his ringtone breaks through the peaceful ambiance. Pulling his phone from his breast pocket, he squints at the screen in the low light, a frown making him look more weary than usual. “I’m sorry, Ace. I need to take this.” He stands, giving your hand an apologetic squeeze before walking towards the entrance. “Hi, Richard. No, you're not disturbing anything…”

As Steve's voice trails off, leaving you on your own in the dimly lit atrium, the room continues to hum with conversations, laughter, and intimacy. You pick up your wine, the cold glass feeling delicate in your fidgety fingers, the crisp acidity of the sauvignon blanc offering  little comfort.  Dining alone shouldn't feel strange. People do it all the time, relishing their own company as they leisurely turn the pages of books or savor each bite. It's a skill you've yet to master, haunted by an irrational discomfort under the imagined weight of judgmental eyes, a residue of being the girl no one would sit next to in Hawkins. It's absurd, of course, but that old fear lingers, an uninvited companion. 

As you reach for your phone, Eddie's name sits at the top of your notifications, and this time, the distraction is welcomed. 

Until you read it. 

Eddie: I read your album review of Lungs. You really stunk up the page with that one.

You: Lungs by Florence and the Machine? That was two years ago!

Eddie: I told you I read all your work. x

You: And what exactly did you take issue with?

Eddie: You trashed her. You said her vocals were overpowering and meant to cover up mediocre musicians. Said she was an alt Britney Spears.

Your nose scrunches with wince, recalling the words you choose to print.

You: I wrote what I felt at the time.

Eddie: The album sold 3 million copies. Don’t worry, Flo forgave you. 

Eddie: Eventually

You: I doubt Florence Welch reads Stax.

Eddie: Well

Eddie: I had a copy.

You: YOU SHOWED IT TO HER!

Fury. Blind, hot, raging fury rolls through your veins. Your hand smacks onto the table with a resounding crack, causing the silverware to clatter and plates to rattle. A few diners stop to look at you, and you give them a bashful smile as heat creeps up your neck. 

You: I’m going to hurt you. Slowly.

Eddie: Relax. No need to get kinky. It’s all water under the bridge. I worked on that album, and I intentionally asked for that bold, unapologetic vocal style. It was meant to be raw. It seems like the fans agreed.  But, hey, everyone gets it wrong once in a while. Maybe you were on your period or something.

Your fingers dance across the keyboard, a torrent of response surging, ready to pour out, but you restrain the urge to send them – every ugly word remains unsent. His three dots flicker on the screen, and another message swiftly follows.

Eddie: The only reason I remember it was because her album dropped the same week you got engaged. At first, I thought it might be personal, but I wondered why after all these years. Then I realized you were probably far too busy writing Mrs. Harrington with big hearts around it in your diary to be worrying about me.

Words, false as a cracked melody, slip from your fingers with practiced ease, but beneath it all, guilt settles in your chest like a haunting refrain, its weight growing heavier with every truth left unsaid.

You: I don’t remember if I knew you worked on that album.

Eddie: I’m sure you didn’t. 

He went down this path searching for something. Unspoken lyrics to a hidden refrain that have long evaded his grasp. Whatever he’s uncovered and what it means to him isn’t clear, but for now, he’s letting you off the hook. Relief sweeps over you like the final notes of a song, the recording skipping and cracking, ushering in something new between you– a tune you haven’t heard before.

Eddie: Thanks for clearing it up. I should let you get back to your date. Steve probably has steam coming out of his ears.

You: He had to take a call.

Eddie: He left you all alone? It’s a good thing I was around then.

Steve approaches the table, his smile painted on but not quite reaching his eyes. You discreetly slip your phone away into your pocket. 

"Investors from Tokyo," he explains with a sigh. "Richard wants me on all the calls with them until we launch."

You reach out, your fingers tracing the contours of his stubbled jaw, "You're exhausted, baby."

"I know." He turns into your touch. "I've already paid. We can go if you're ready."

He takes your hand as you rise from the table, leading you through the restaurant and out onto the street. His arm goes around to waist to hold you close as you walk home. His hand occasionally dips lower than your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. It's easy to take the comfort he offers. 

His warm, eager lips meet the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing, nibbling as he pushes you against the inside of your front door, sliding your blazer from your shoulders until it catches on your elbows.

"I thought you were tired," you gasp as his mouth journeys lower, leaving sparks of heat behind. His lips trace the curve of your collarbone, descending to the crest of your breast, where delicate black lace meets flushed skin.

"Not for this." He moves down to one knee, removing your boots one by one. "Never for you." They hit the hardwood with a clatter, their sound reverberating up the stairwell.

He moves back up your body, cursing when he struggles to find the zip at the back of your pants. Your laughter earns his smile as your head rolls against the thick oak door, your fingers searching for purchase on the soft material covering his forearms.

“Steve,” you breathe, your voice a heated whisper, just before his mouth finds yours. 

The baseball rounding of the bases blares from his pocket like a hammer shattering glass. He pulls back, breathing hard, closing his eyes as he leans his forehead against yours. The ringing continues, too loud, echoing off the quiet walls of your home. His apologetic eyes lock with yours before he steps back, pulling out the ringing device.

“Fuck.” His knuckles turn white as his grip tightens, Richards's name lighting up on the screen. He holds it a little higher for a moment like he’s preparing to smash it on the ground. 

"It's okay, Steve." You move closer to his side. Your hand gently glides down his arm, offering reassurance. "I've got a little work to do anyway. Take your call."

"Yeah?" he questions, his thumb hesitating over the accept button.

"Yeah, go ahead." You smile, giving his arm a squeeze.

Steve answers the call with a hint of annoyance in his tone, "Richard." His voice gradually fades as you make your way down the hallway to the small office you've claimed as your own, tucked away behind the kitchen.

With one hand pushing up the creaking door, your fingers fumble along the wall for the switch to the banker's lamp perched at the corner of your desk. A faint light filters in as the first raindrops ping against the glass, leaving meandering trails down the black-paned windows dominating an entire wall. You approach the peacock-blue shelving that Steve had crafted to house your ever-expanding collection of CDs, records, and books. Running your fingers over the album spines, you find the one you're looking for and slide it out of its protective sleeve. 

The mauve vinyl reflects the lamp light as you place it onto the waiting turntable. With a twist of a knob and a careful drop of the needle, the soft crackle emanates from the speakers, filling the room's quiet spaces. A honeyed voice purrs the lyrics as you settle sideways into the old leather chair rescued from your parent's basement. Legs dangling over the patched arm, you reach for the half-smoked joint in the ashtray beside you, lighting in time for the drumbeat to pound out a steady rhythm while the mild burn travels down your throat and into your lungs. 

The soft haze reaches your brain, quieting the uncertainty as the scratch of the guitar joins in with the melody. Curls of thick smoke spiral and twirl with your exhale, dancing through the air. You sink deeper into the embrace of the leather, taking a few more deep puffs before returning the burning joint to the ashtray and pulling your phone from your pocket. 

You: Yeah, Eddie. It’s a good thing. 

AN: Sorry I'm a day late. The holiday weekend kept me busy. I'd love to hear from you. Comments, reblogs, and asks are always welcome and appreciated. I'll be doing some traveling soon, so updates might be affected but I will be writing.

Read Song 4 Remix Here Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Hugs and kisses for all my kittens - Jelly

P.S. To the lovely person who suggested Linger. I can't find your ask because my brain is broken or Tumblr is. I just wanted to know that your song inspired an upcoming scene in chapter 5 that I'm so excited to write. I can't imagine this story without it now. So, extra big thanks.

So everyone keep sending me your song suggestions, please! I promise I'm listening to everyone.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series #torn #Spotify

[powderblueblood]

FOUR TIMES YOU WERE STRUCK INCAPABLE OF IMAGINING YOUR LIFE WITHOUT EDDIE MUNSON

(+ one, of the many, where he felt the same about you)

part of the hellfire & ice universe eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, you know the drill, minors dni only warnings are for fluff and eddie and lacy being cute and in denial word count: 2k tagging @chiefbonkpruneegg happy birthday pal <3 enjoy this nonsense

TRACK ONE: LET'S STICK WITH TELEVISION FOR TWO HUNDRED, ALEX

You and Eddie balance on either side of Ronnie Ecker's couch like faithful gargoyles, armed with soup and homework. Ronnie's caught the worst end of some green-gooed virus, so you two have taken it upon yourselves to deliver the necessities; tomato soup with extra hot sauce ("To snot out the demons," quoth Eddie) and history homework. But something on the television sucked you both right in, Poltergeist style, as you entered the Ecker trailer. Some hot young thing called Alex Trebek, captaining the maiden voyage of a brand new Jeopardy.

"You know who would kill on this show?" Eddie says, settling himself on the armrest to Ronnie's sniffling left.

"Guh, who?" Ronnie asks, huffing the steaming vapors of the spicy tomato soup like it's paint fumes.

You're pitched on the other armrest, pointing the rolled up history homework toward the screen. "What is the White H--US Treasury, are you fucking stupid?! Have these people never seen a twenty dollar bill before? What is the White House!"

You toss a glance over to Ronnie and Eddie for reassurance, just in time to catch them sharing a look. A good ol' Lacy know-it-all look. "Oh, shut up. as if I have more useless information rattling around in my brain than--"

Both you and Eddie snap at the TV in unison, "Who is Elvis Presley!"

Your turn to share a look. Game on? Game on.

It rolls on like that for a couple of categories, Ronnie sipping her soup straight from the container between you, hiding a smile as you and Eddie gradually bark louder and louder. Who are the Marx Brothers! What is 'break a leg'! Who was Napoleon!

"What, you're paying attention in History all of a sudden?"

"I'm a solid C student thanks to you, baby."

It occurs to you suddenly and begrudgingly and all at once; Eddie's right. You would kill on this show. But more than that, you want to wipe the floor and wring Eddie Munson out like the mop that he is.

"The greeting which opened each episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents."

"What is," both of you, in perfect Hitchcock tonality and without missing a beat, "Gooooood eeeeevening."

TRACK TWO: LIKE IF BECKY SHARP WAS FRIENDS WITH A BIG GOOFY HOUND DOG

Your first honest-to-god paycheck from the Bookstore was a fat wad of tens and singles plus change and it was handed to you in a brown paper bag. Invest this wisely, said Ivana, so of course, you followed your heart and your hard earned cash directly to the thrift store.

The front bell ding-a-lings and you walk through the door holding your moneybag aloft like the biggest, blue ribbon winning-est gourd at the county fair. You are proud as hell, because you did this! On your own! This isn't your daddy's money, this isn't the result of a once-toyed with idea that you might make a really good cat burglar, this was yours all yours!

"Put that down already! It's like you're wearing a sign saying mug me!" Eddie, bringing up the rear, yanks your arm back down by your side.

You laugh, mirthful and Hepburnian. "More like try me! I'm a working woman now, Eddie! I can hold my own! I can buy boots, guilt free, no strings, no blood money!"

"Uh-huh. consider that glass ceiling of having an after school job well and truly," he picks up a lamp from the scarcely populated homewares section, mimes slow-motion smashing it, "shattered!"

"Plus!" you cheerily pivot on your heel, a spring in your step that cannot be unsprung, even by Eddie's welcome to the real world, jackass flavored attempts. "Who would ever dare try and rob me when I've got a big, tough guard doggy like you three feet behind me at all times?"

Eddie's eyes narrow, like he's not all the way peachy keen on how you've pointed out your inseparability. But. He doesn't deny it either. A broken-stringed tennis racket bops you on the head.

"You owe me gas money."

"Shut up, please. I am shopping."

TRACK THREE: BUSTER MOVES

We'll always have the movies.

You sit, glassy-eyed, in your regular seats at the Hawk as The Cook starring Buster Keaton ticks along on the screen ahead of you. This Keaton retrospective, which you had been looking forward to for weeks, which you had been threatening to drag Eddie to for weeks, is going down a little... bland.

Not even that over-the-shoulder gaze that has Keaton beaming lasers of lust right into Virginia Rappe's skull adds any spice. You don't even bring up the whole scandal with her and Fatty Arbuckle, which would ordinarily be fertile territory to plow through with Eddie as a rapt audience.

In fact, you don't even tell him to kick his feet off the seats.

You've zoned out, because you still have the chill of the penitentiary's visiting quarters under your skin. Your dad and his cruelty that the bulletproof glass couldn't dull. The usual escape to the movies bit isn't doing the trick.

Then, you feel shaggy waves tickling your shoulder.

"I can do that."

"What?"

Directly in front of you, Buster is giving it his best Salome, his dance moves all angles. This display of pure deadpan goofiness was what made you obsess over Keaton in the first place, falling head over heels for a man who kicked it long before you were born.

And to your immediate left, you have Eddie Munson in your ear, telling you, "I can do that."

"No you can't," you say, and it doesn't sound like half the challenge it usually would.

Then, in a jolt that makes the whole row of rickety theater seats shake, Eddie's on his feet and stripping off his jacket. And before you can utter some totally perfunctory what're you... he's hot footing it down the steps to the splash zone, the front row, of the screen.

"You know I've seen this movie a million times?" Eddie says, projecting his voice right out like he's performing a one man show. Munson: Meditations on Dumbassery. You sit upright, glancing around to double-triple check that you're definitely alone in the screen. And you are-- Hawkins doesn't have as much a taste for the non-talkies as you do. And you were pretty sure that Eddie didn't either, and yet...

"Are you serious?" you ask, a laugh starting at the back of your throat.

"Does this look like a call and response? Let the maestro work, please," Eddie chides you over his shoulder, turning his back and hopping in place like a boxer about to take the ring.

And then, all of a sudden, he's... dancing? Sort of? Well, he's certainly moving his body, but it's nothing like what Buster's doing, and it's nothing like anyone's ever possibly done and not been hospitalized for, because the way his limbs are moving is borderline inhuman and you are laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing in a way that feels like Eddie reaching right through the fog of your horrible, dissociative feelings and bringing you back into the light.

You toss popcorn at him and he totally fails to catch it in his mouth, his face lit up in shades of black and white by the projection.

"A million times, huh?"

Eddie, breathless, shrugs, "Alright, I lied. But you laughed."

Point to Munson.

TRACK FOUR: LIBERATING MY MAGAZINES

It was a favor that he'd agreed to before you even offered to buy him breakfast after, a favor that didn't need sweetening up. As his van rolled into Loch Nora, Eddie's brows knit a little bit-- and you wondered how much of him regretted saying yes so hastily.

"On a scale of one to felony..."

Your house hadn't been sold yet. Repossessed, sure, but not sold. It stood there, darkened and quiet and gathering dust and the sheer sight of it being the only house on your street with an overgrown lawn made your chest feel tight. You bet the neighbors had something to say about that. You bet the neighbors had a lot to say about you. Curtains were no doubt twitching when you and Eddie pulled up in front of your old driveway.

"It's fine. It's my stuff, anyway."

About a half hour later, Eddie drops a pile of slightly-weather beaten copies of Rolling Stone bearing your name and old address onto a table in the diner, the remnants of your now-cancelled subscription.

"You gotta wonder what they're putting in that new print format that kept those things from totally composting."

"Thank god they didn't! I need to finish that Tom Wolfe serial or I'll die," you declare as he picks up a menu and you rifle through the pile. "Order whatever. It's on me."

Eddie snorts. You're still carting around that dwindling brown bag of cash. "You don't have to do that."

"No," you say, eyes darting around to anywhere but his face, "but I want to. For helping me to liberate my magazines."

"Lace. I'd happily liberate your magazines without the promise of pancakes," his mouth twists into this little grin you can't help but think of as sweet, "but they do help."

"Order enough to keep us here for a while," you say, and pass him a Rolling Stone.

The next while passes silently between you two, passing issues back and forth until one of you picks out something the two of you can fight about. Eddie twists his rings around when he's reading; you gather this from the looks you keep sneaking.

It feels eerily relaxed. Slightly domestic. And by the end, over-caffeinated with the way you two are soundlessly cackling over an imagined world where the cover of Springsteen's Born in the USA isn't an ass shot, but a full-frontal dick shot. "But where does he put the flag?!"

It's one way to kill a Saturday.

SECRET SONG: SWAPPING NOTES

In the relentless waves of the morning crush to get to his next class, he almost misses you-- just like he'd like to almost miss this next class. But then, there you are with freshly-manicured nails digging into his elbow.

For whatever reason, you've taken it upon yourself to make sure that Eddie Munson doesn't skip! At least, where you can help it.

"Yoohoo! Spanish is this way," you say, reorienting him in the right direction in that insistent little way that you do. Eddie's pretty sure that if he sat on you, you'd snap, yet he lets you completely manipulate his clearly superior physical strength anyway.

"We're not in Spanish together!" he tries, a last ditch to get you to turn around so he can ditch.

"No, but French is juste par là so you are pas de chance, my friend!" you tell him with a stare that says I've been tracking your movements like a hunter, dumbass. See my big spear? From that gargantuan folder you're clutching, you dig out a paper. "I have that thing you wanted me to look at."

"Sssshut up, I don't need everyone to know," Eddie flushes. It's not homework he begged to copy from you for once. It is actually this comparative essay that he actually thinks he might not have completely screwed up. But he kind of wanted a professional not-screwer-upper-of-homework's point of view, so... that's why your little red pen marks are all over it.

"Why, whose reputation am I sparing?" He sees your point. You are basically walking arm in arm with him. You. "But, y'know, I was right about you! The thought is there, the execution just needs a little fine tuning."

"So it was..."

"Not amazing! But not awful. I've done my edits and you can just copy as per-- but absorb them, please, okay? Learn something?"

Eddie's head rolls back on his neck with this petulant groan and he almost clocks a freshman at elbow level, shaking his arms in total frustration. God, now you were giving him homework on top of his homework? He should have just paid you to do the homework!

"I hate when you want me to better myself! Shit!"

"Well!" you say, in that bright, adorable, annoyingly-self satisfied way, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't see potential, so suck on that."

#published by powder #e. munson by powder #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #edlacy #blurbs #need to stop tagging things over 2k as 'blurb' #anwayy your honor i LOVE THEMMMMM this is just silly and fun #cba making a banner i'm too tired #hai brainrot #l. doevski by powder

[dozenssporks]

*the video opens with Vash collapsed in the sand looking dry and withered. The camera is at ground level, indicating that the cameraman is probably also on the ground*

Vash speaks, his voice raspy: is this it, Wolfgang? is this how it all ends?

Wolfwood: it ends for you if you keep calling me by made-up names.

Vash: oh, Lobo Arbor, I think I can see the light . . .

Wolfwood: listen here you little brat I told you not to use my name in your little home movies but I didn't say you could just pick me a new one!

Vash: Ulf of the Jungle . . .

Wolfwood: okay that is it--

*the camera shakes as Wolfwood starts crawling toward Vash. Abruptly the image only shows sand, having been dropped mid-journey. Shrieking from off-screen can be heard*

*the video cuts to a new scene*

*Vash is still on the ground, somewhat more sandy, holding the phone above his face. Next to Vash's head Wolfwood's feet can be seen, his shoes also encrusted with sand*

Vash: guys, we're lost in the desert

Wolfwood: we sure are

Vash: this might be our last video, dear viewers

Wolfwood: I want to be cremated and have my ashes portioned up and dumped over the heads of all the people I hate

Vash: I'm not one of those, right?

Wolfwood: you're not that significant to me

Vash gasps: if the desert hadn't dried up my tears I would weep, Wolfgang. We're so horribly dried up . . . like raisins or sun-dried tomatoes . . . if only there were some landmark

Wolfwood: look again, one more time, spiky

*the camera raises up and slowly pans a wobbly path back and forth, showing empty blue skies and yellow sand. It flashes past something triangular, stops, and turns back. The blurred image focuses until the pyramids of Giza are clearly visible*

Vash: no way

Wolfwood: is that--?

Vash: it can't be! it's--!

*disregarding the pyramids the camera whips around and swiftly zooms in on a modern highway and clearly populated and thriving city. Everything blurs again when Vash staggers to his feet*

Vash: It's a pizza hut!

Wolfwood, simultaneously: It's a KFC!

*the camera turns back around to show Vash's overjoyed face and lingers there for a few seconds. Vash's face twists up and after a brief struggle he bursts into laughter*

Vash: just foolin'!

Wolfwood, also laughing: gotcha!

Vash: this video is for everyone who doesn't know that the best view of the pyramids is from a KFC and that even I couldn't get lost between the pyramids and the city!

Wolfwood, breathlessly: pfft, okay let's get some chicken

Vash: no? we're getting pizza hut?

Wolfwood: nooo we agreed on KFC

Vash: we did not, I never did

Wolfwood: yes we did, we're going to get some extra crispy

Vash: nuh uh

Wolfwood: mashed potatoes. biscuits.

Vash: pizza with everything on it!

Wolfwood: Bucket! Of! Chicken!

Vash: ranch-pineapple-BBQ-anchovie-jalapeno-mushroom-green onion-feta-asiago-buffalo--

Wolfwood: whoa jeez is that a pizza order or a curse?! K.F.C.

*Vash screeches and lunges at Wolfwood*

Wolfwood: Oh LORD!

*the camera, again abandoned, shows a beautifully clear image of the cloudless blue sky before the video cuts to black silence*

#trigun #vash the stampede #wolfwood #a dozen sporks speaks #trigun snippets #on the run au #trigun on the run au #trigun modern au #whenever they fight I imagine a cartoon dust cloud with the occasional fist popping out

[almostloosingit]

Tokyo Revenges Drabbles

Rindou

GN reader

Fluff

I don’t know where the idea of this man being a bad boyfriend came from but hey… he ranked 2nd on the “best boyfriend ranking” for a reason.

I get it he breaks peoples bones like it’s a stick and poses like an old fighting game character, BUT you can NOT tell me this man wouldn’t be the softest with his partner. I mean LOOK AT HIM! Ran is better at playing being tough and shit with his partner, but Rindou? The second you say something flirty or slightly suggestive this man is turning into a tomato. No way you would say something like that in public, right? He must be hearing things.

I mentioned before and it is literally the truth when it comes to Rin looking up to and respecting his older brother so if you’re mean and being to Ran for no reason… you are gone. If for example you got into a fight with Ran or he was being an asshole and you were just protecting yourself/baiting back, that’s fine, but being a pure bitch to him for no reason? Nope, he’s not having it. That’s why he was really happy when you and his older brother were getting along really well. (Ran would not have it either but this ain’t about him.)

I feel like the brothers do skin care routines, nothing overboard but they have some good stuff. I feel like Rindou would be embarrassed to tell you about it. He’s afraid that if you find out, you will see him as “less manly” or some dumb shit. When he told Ran, he gave his younger brother an eyebrow raise then burst out with laughter.

Either to say next time they were doing a skin care routine Ran took a mirror selfie with Rindou and sent it to you.

Ran was holding the phone with one hand and doing a peace sign with the other. He had a frog hair band while his face mask was light blue. Next to him was your cute ass boyfriend, his face was still close to the mirror as he was still applying the clay face mask that was also light blue. His hair band was just the back metal one. He looked so cute. But it didn’t go in noticed by you that there was a light blue hair band laying on the side. You asked Ran about it and he said that Rindou didn’t put it on today cuz he would look way too blue since his hair as well. You asked Ran to send you another picture when Rindou is wearing it. Guess what picture of Rindou you got the next day?

You were hanging out with your boyfriend. You were making him a drink when you heard your phone make a noise. (You and Rindou did a rock-paper-scissors and who lost had to change their notions sound because each time there was a notification both of you chased your phones p.s he won)

“Could you check who texted me babe?” You shouted from the kitchen. You don’t understand how happy it makes him that you trust him that much. It’s a low standard but still.

“Of course!” He said while picking up your phone. He was about to tell you when he saw your lock screen .

It was him making a peace sign while sitting relaxed on his couch with his blue hair band and a sheet hello kitty (cinnamon roll) face mask. To say the least my guy was shocked.

He came into the kitchen holding your phone with the screen facing you.

“When? How?” He asked, embarrassed. Shit you forgot to change your lock screen.

“Ran send it to me. He said that you were embarrassed to tell me that you have a skin care routine, so he started to send me pictures of you while you guys do your skin care.” You said, while walking in his direction, passing him his drink then taking your phone. “No need to be embarrassed, love. You are the most adorable manly man out there.” You said before placing a kiss on his cheek. “We should do some face masks together, you know? It would be a cute movie night date.”

He’s glad you get along with his older brother, after all if you didn’t, you and Rindou wouldn’t have plans for tomorrow night.

A special addition from @syunsww1 (one of my lovely beta readers.)

“I feel like he would hold the phone to your ear when you're on a phone call as you are painting his or your nails.”

He would also hold your phone as your painting your toenails. You know it’s a team effort. HES TRYING HIS BEST TO HELP. He also wants to hear the drama from your bestie.

I used spin wheel to determined who won the rock-paper- scissors.

@69doing

#tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #haitani rindou imagines #rindou x y/n #rindou x you #rindou hcs #tr rindou #rindou x reader #rindou fluff #rindou fanfic #rindou scenarios #rindou haitani x reader #rindou headcanons

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed // Ch. 6

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter 5 | Masterlist

The house was quaint. It was a simple blue color with a concrete front porch, the white railing framing it and giving it the perfect American dream look. He parked next to a small white SUV in the driveway, throwing the truck in park. I stared at the house, feeling frozen in my seat until the door opened. "C'mon, let's get you inside." He said, holding out his hand for me. I gently slipped my hand in his, getting out of the truck as he closed the door. His hand rested on my lower back as he guided me to the door. He swung the door open, guiding me inside before closing and locking it. 

The lock made me nervous but then he smiled at me and I felt better. He walked into the living room and I slowly followed. "Babe?" He yelled out as I looked around the house, it looked bare, almost as if he was never here. "Oh hey." A soft voice said, making me look towards the kitchen. "Kelly, you remember Katie." Jake said, motioning over to me. "Yeah, I do." She gave me a small smile as she walked over to Jake. "Can I talk to you?" She asked him and he nodded. "Feel free to sit on the couch and relax." He said and I nodded as they went into the kitchen. I took notice of the sectional and the large flat screen mounted above the fireplace. I opted to sit on the edge of the couch, setting my purse next to me as I crossed my legs, resting my hands on my knees. 

My legs bounced wildly as I picked at my nails. I knew the conversation was about me. I'd be stupid to think otherwise. I have a feeling Kelly isn't my biggest fan, and I wouldn't blame her. She saw me come out of a room with her boyfriend and it looked bad. I don't know what their conversation was after that, but I'm sure it was a tense one. I wasn't sure how long I was sitting there but a hand on my shoulder scared me, making me jump off the couch. "Just me." Kelly said as I turned to her. "Sorry. It's a reaction." She gave me a small smile. "Jake said you're in a bit of trouble." I nodded. "Well he went to shower and change. I'm cooking dinner if you want to join me." I nodded, following her. "Oh, here." She gently took my bag, hanging it on a hook in the foyer next to another bag. "That's where I hang mine. No point in carrying it all over the house." I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. "I hope you like Italian. I'm making tuscan chicken pasta." I nodded, sitting at the island. "I love it."

I watched as she cooked and felt weird. Any time Mom cooked, I was required to help. "Do you need any help?" She looked back at me. "You cook?" I nodded. "I've spent a lot of time in the kitchen." She nodded. "Cut the tomato?" I nodded, grabbing a cutting board from the counter and a knife from the knife block. We quietly got dinner together and I felt awkward. Jake invited me to live with him and now I'm standing in the kitchen with his girlfriend who I can't tell if she likes me or not. I finished the tomato and handed it to her before going to the sink to wash the knife. “Hey baby.” Jake’s voice was deep. I turned to see him with his arms wrapped around Kelly’s waist. I turned back around, a blush creeping up my cheeks. I felt like I intruded on a moment and I didn’t want them to know I saw that. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, coming to stand next to me. “Yeah.” He raised a brow at me. “You sure?” I nodded. “Positive.” After that I just stood in the corner of the counters, staying out of the way. “Can I get in the cabinet behind you?” Kelly asked and I rushed out of the way. “I’m so sorry! Next time just shove me out of the way.” She gave me a small smile. “I wouldn’t do that. Mind help me set the table?” I nodded and she handed me the plates as she got the silverware. I set the plates down, mine a little farther down. “Why’d you set that one there?” I wanted to shrink in on myself. “I kind of feel like I’m intruding. Figured I’d give you two some space.” She smiled at me, sliding it closer to the end of the table. “You’re not intruding. You were invited.” She said before disappearing into the kitchen. I stared at the table, seeing one at the head and one on either side. It reminded me of the way my mother sets the table, it felt right. “Let’s eat.” Jake said, carrying in the bowl of pasta while Kelly had the basket of bread. Jake set the food down and turned to me. “What do you want to drink?” He asked. “Uh, water.” He turned but I stopped him. “I can get it.” He turned back to me, large hands landing on my shoulders, making me wince. “Sorry.” He said, easing his grip. 

He pulled out a chair, pushing me gently to sit in the chair. He disappeared into the kitchen as Kelly sat across from me. Soon he came back, setting a glass in front of me before sitting at the head of the table between Kelly and I. “You want some?” He asked. “Uh, you go ahead and get some.” I said. I was always used to getting my food last, so it feels weird getting it first. He nodded, getting himself some and then Kelly before I grabbed some. They started a conversation which I blocked out, not wanting them to think I was eavesdropping. “Katie?” My head snapped up from my plate, looking at Kelly wide eyed. “Jake tells me you’re in law school. Have you figured out a specialty?” I nodded. “Medical law.” She nodded. “I thought you said that’s what your parents wanted you to do?” Jake said and my face fell. “Um yeah. It is.” I said. “So why would you do it if it’s not what you want to do?” Kelly asked. I stared down at my plate, shifting my food around not knowing what to say. ‘I don’t know how to do anything for myself.’ I couldn’t say that. Tears sprung to my eyes and I took a deep breath. “May I be excused?” I asked calmly. “Uh, yeah. Why?” Jake replied, a single eyebrow raised. I didn’t answer, just getting up and walking down the hallway towards the bathroom. 

I shut the door, locking it as I leaned on the counter. Bile rose in my throat and I took deep breaths in hopes I could fight it, but I couldn’t. I leaned over the toilet, retching up everything I had in my system, which was basically nothing since I hadn’t eaten today. Once I was done I stood, staring at myself in the mirror. Mascara ran down my face as I sniffled. I turned on the water, wiping away the streaks on my face. I wish I had makeup wipes or something to just clean myself off. A knock startled me as I turned off the water. “Katie?” It was Kelly. “I’m fine.” I said. It took a second before she responded. “Okay. You’ll let us know if you need anything?” I nodded. “Yeah.” It was a quiet response and I heard her walk away. I took a few deep breaths, sliding down the wall as more tears fell. How could I think this was a good idea? I didn’t know how to be a functioning adult. What made me think I could just walk away from everything I knew and just start a new life? My thoughts plagued me for a while and I questioned going back out there but soon there was another knock on the door. “Katie. Open the door, please..” I sighed and stood, opening the door. I looked at Kelly through teary eyes and she gave me a small smile before stepping into the bathroom. “What happened?” I shook my head, leaning against the wall. “I was just overwhelmed. I’m not used to all this.” She looked at me confused. “What do you mean ‘all this’?” I bit my lip, holding back more tears.

“I don’t know how to do anything for myself.” It was a whisper but her face fell. “Oh, Katie. I’m sure you can do things for yourself. I mean, you decided this. You decided to leave, and now you’re here with us.” I scoffed. “I don’t hardly know how to speak if I’m not spoken to first.” She gave me a small smile, opting to sit next to me on the floor as I slid down the wall. “We’ll change that. It’s going to take time to unlearn everything, but we’ll figure it out. Jake didn’t give me any details. He just said your parents weren’t good people and you needed somewhere to go.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and she smiled at me. “I know it seems hard, but we’re all here. I know that you know if you need someone you can go to Jake, Natasha or Bradley. But you can come to me too, Katie.” I nodded, soothing myself slowly. “I’m sorry for interrupting dinner.” She shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. If you’re still hungry, foods still on the table.” I nodded and she stood before helping me off the floor. I followed her back to the dining room and sat back down in my seat. Jake was gone but the food was still on the table. I ate as Kelly grabbed her plate going back to the kitchen. After a minute Jake came out and gave me a small smile. “Everything okay?” He asked, sitting next to me again. “It is. I just got super overwhelmed all of a sudden.” He smiled at me before Kelly joined us and they spoke to me while I ate.

After dinner Jake cleaned the kitchen after Kelly went home but not before stopping me. “Hey, if you need me you can have Jake call me. Once you get a new phone I’ll put my number in there for you.” I nodded before she squeezed my hand, leaving for her house. While Jake finished in the kitchen I went upstairs to look at my room. It had a single dresser and a bed. It wasn’t much and it felt weird to be in a room that’s mine, but it’s not ‘mine’. I heard soft footsteps behind me and turned to find Jake with some clothes in his hands. “I grabbed some of Kelly’s clothes that she keeps here. I’m not sure if it'll fit though.” I took the clothes from him, looking at them. “You can shower if you want.” I shook my head. “I’m super tired. So I think I’m just going to change and go to bed.” He nodded before grabbing the door. “I’m gonna close this, if you need me my room is at the end of the hallway.” I nodded. 

I slipped on the clothes, finding that the shorts fit, but the top did not. It was way too small. So I slipped my dress back on and walked down the hallway. His bedroom door was open, and he was laid back in bed flipping through tv channels. “You okay?” I bit my lip, not sure how to tell him. But it was like he read my mind. “Did the clothes fit?” He asked and I shook my head. “I mean, the shorts did. But the shirt was too small.” He got up, getting into his dresser and pulling out a white shirt and tossed it to me. “Try that.” He said as he crawled back in bed. “Thank you.” I squeaked before going down the hallway. I knew I got on his nerves, otherwise he wouldn’t have tossed the shirt at me. I slipped the shirt on once I got back to my room and looked down at it. It was an old Top Gun shirt and it came down to the tops of my thighs. A blush flooded my cheeks as I looked at the shirt, realizing it belonged to Jake. I set my dress on the dresser and walked over to the bed, pulling the covers down and crawling in it. I was about to lay back but a knock on the door startled me. “Come in.” I said quietly and the door opened. “The shirt work?” He asked, looking at me as he leaned on the doorframe. I nodded, messing with the hem of it. “It did.” He nodded, giving me a small smile. “Well I do have work in the morning, so I’m going to bed. I usually get up around four and go for a run so I’ll be quiet and try not to wake you.” I nodded. “Feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge and really anything in the house. We can go get you some clothes when I get off work tomorrow.” I just nodded and he smiled at me. “Night, darlin’.” 

“Goodnight.” With that he gently closed the door and once again I was left alone in the dark room. I looked out the window seeing the moon and stars, the only thing illuminating the room. I pulled my knees up to my chest, leaning back on the wall. I sat in the silence, the thoughts in my head louder than ever. My parents are either at home, celebrating me being gone, or they’re pissed and searching for me. I turned my attention to the covers, white just like the ones I had in my room back home. ‘Home’ for a place that felt like a living hell. It was also the only place I could ever consider home. Being here, in Jake’s house, it felt wrong. Like I wasn’t supposed to be here. In all actuality, Jake probably felt sorry for me and felt like he had to offer me a place to stay. One thing I learned growing up, is people don’t just do nice things without expecting something in return. What would Jake expect from me? I thought about it. Maybe he wanted someone who would keep his place clean while he was at work. For the most part that’s what my mom did. She didn’t work. She was basically a glorified house cleaner who got expensive jewelry and designer clothing. 

I didn’t want to be like my mother. She ruined me, I know she did but it was so weird to have someone be nice to me. I was used to cruel words and being forced to do things I didn’t want to do. But I like to think it was making me a stronger person. I don’t know where to go from here. Do I stay here for a while or do I find something else to do with my life? At least with my parents I knew what each day held. School, studying on base, making dinner. The unknown was terrifying and the thought of it had tears running down my face. What if my parents wanted to find me? They never seemed to care about anything other than their image and a run away daughter would not be a good look. I looked down at the shirt, rubbing the soft material between my fingers. I felt restless and decided to get up. I looked at the empty walls in the hallway before making my way downstairs. I went into the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and getting some water. As I did I took notice of the kitchen. It looked like Kelly did most of the stuff in here. You could tell it had a feminine touch. As I looked around, my eyes wandered to the living room. There was a table I hadn’t paid attention to. It held a few awards as well as pictures. There was one of him and Bradley shaking hands, one with his team and a few others, including one in his dress blues. I remember every time my dad added a new award to the mantle, there used to be an abundance of pictures up there, but over the years those have dwindled away only to be replaced with awards only. I saw a few that my dad also had, it made me think that if Jake never apologized my dad might try to get me to go out with him. 

Then a thought crossed my mind. What if my parents found out I’m with Jake? My father would ruin him in more ways than one. The thought hit me like a runaway train. You'll ruin his career, Katie. You'll ruin his life. He could lose everything. His job, his house, his truck. Literally everything if my father wanted to make that happen. I walked into the kitchen and looked at the clock, seeing it said one-thirty. I’ve been up for hours, letting my thoughts eat me alive. I decided to go back upstairs and into my room. As I walked in, I looked at my dress, neatly folded on the dresser. If my father ruined Jake, he would surely hand me back over to my parents. He would blame me for everything and in turn, Bradley and Natasha might feel the same way. Was my freedom really worth losing the few friends I had? It wasn’t. I rushed to the dresser quietly, pulling off the clothes Jake gave me and slipping my dress back on. I knew Jake would be mad at me for leaving, but he would understand once I told him why. I couldn't let him lose everything because of me. I went to walk out the door, but turned back to the bed, deciding to make it so he wouldn't have to clean up after me and I left the clothes neatly folded on the bed. I grabbed my shoes and my bag, quietly going downstairs and into the kitchen where I found a notepad. I wrote him a note explaining everything and that I appreciated what he did for me. With tears in my eyes I quietly opened his front door, reaching in and locking the bottom lock before closing it. There was no going back now. I couldn't change my mind. I walked off his front step, opting to carry my heels versus walking in them. 

Jake’s little neighborhood was off a main road, one that I was very familiar with so finding my way home was easy but it would be easier if I had my glasses. It just took me an hour to get there and once I reached my neighborhood, I cursed my parents for buying a house on a hill. I stopped a few feet away from the driveway, seeing the living room lights were still on, which was odd since my father was a stickler for leaving lights on. My car was backed into the driveway so I knew they picked it up and brought it home. I slowly walked up the walkway towards the door, hoping that by some crazy coincidence the door was unlocked and I wouldn't have to knock. I grabbed the door handle and a shadow passed by the large picture window in front of the house, the curtains only producing a silhouette but I knew from the height it was my mother. I gently and slowly twisted the door handle and found it locked. Tears sprung to my eyes realizing I would have to knock but I didn't have a choice. I couldn't go back to Jake's and I had nowhere else to go. Who knows if my parents even want me back?

I swallowed the lump in my throat and gently knocked on the door. Within seconds I heard rushed footsteps and the door swung open to reveal my mother. Her hair was a wreck and her face was pale and splotchy as if she'd been crying. "Katie!" She screamed, yanking me into her arms. I was startled by the hug, it wasn't something my mother did with the exception of one or two times. She pulled me inside and shut the door. "Honey! Katie's home! Our Katie came back!" She yelled up the stairs as tears fell from her eyes. "Oh thank God!" She yelled, hugging me again. Thunderous footsteps caused me to launch myself out of her arms, slamming my back into the wall as my father rushed towards me. Without saying a word he pulled me into his arms, squeezing me tightly as his shoulders shook. "Why did you leave?" He was crying. "You've had us scared to death! Not knowing where you were. Why did you leave?" The sadness in his voice was clear as day. I immediately felt bad, knowing that I worried them. "I was upset and thought I could make it on my own." I answered.

"Katie, sweetie. We've told you before, you can't make it without us." Mom said, squeezing my hand as my dad held me. "I know. I know that now." She smiled at me all teary eyed. "You hungry?" I nodded. "A little." She grabbed my hand, gently pulling me into the kitchen and having me sit down at the table, my dad across from me. "Where did you go?" He asked and I froze. "I um, just walked. But then it got late and I realized I had nowhere to sleep." He nodded, sitting back in his chair. "Guess I really can't make it on my own." Mom agreed as she set a bowl in front of me. It had what looked like rice, chicken and vegetables in it. "I told you." Mom said quietly as she sat down next to my dad. "The world is harsh and cruel, keeping you here keeps you safe and we can set you up for an easy life. That's why we put you in Law school." I nodded as I ate some of the food. "I know." They were acting out of character, but maybe my leaving made them realize that they actually do care about me and that the way they treat me isn't right. 

Once I was done eating mom washed the bowl and I went upstairs and put my pajamas on. I looked at where my fish tank was, the broken glass a clear reminder of what happened. A body in my doorway startled me, my dad towering over everything. "I uh… I should apologize about the fish tank and your glasses. My temper got the best of me." So many alarms were ringing in my head. My dad has never apologized to anyone, especially me. "We haven't been the best parents to you over the years, but you leaving made us realize that." He said and mom walked in, stepping by him and sitting next to me on the bed. "But that changes starting now." Mom took my hand, making me flinch but she just smiled and held my hand in both of hers. "We're so sorry for everything we've done to you. Can you ever forgive us?" Tears were streaming down her cheeks and I looked between her and my dad, deciding to be honest with them. "It'll take some time, and effort. But I'm willing to try." She smiled, standing up and leaning over to kiss my cheek.

"We love you." My dad came over and kissed my forehead before they walked towards the door. "Sweet dreams." Mom said before she shut the door. It was dark in my room, but I was comfortable here. At least, as comfortable as I can be after all that. They were acting differently, but they really seemed to want to try and do better, and maybe by giving them the opportunity, our relationship would be better. Tomorrow morning, when I get up, I’ll see if they would agree to some boundaries, something to give me just a little more freedom. A small smile settled on my face as I laid back in my bed, pulling my covers up. When I get up in the morning, I'll ask for my phone and text Jake and tell him everything. He'll be happy to know my parents are trying to be better. With that thought, I slowly drifted off to sleep, dreaming of how much better my life would be. 

~~~

I sat up in bed when my alarm went off, quickly turning it off so it wouldn't wake Katie. I quietly got up, putting on some shorts and lacing up my shoes before quietly heading downstairs. I stopped at the guest room door, seeing it was open when I know I closed it last night. Maybe she opened the door? I leaned in to look and make sure Katie was still asleep and my heart fell when I saw the bed. It was empty and made up. The clothes I loaned her were neatly folded at the end of the bed. My head snapped to the dresser seeing her dress was gone and her heels weren’t on the floor anymore I rushed over, yanking open the drawers in hopes she just put her dress in there but all of them were empty. “Katie?” I yelled, rushing downstairs in hopes she was down there. “Katie!” I yelled realizing she wasn’t in the living room. I rushed into the kitchen, nothing. But then I saw the note. 

Jake, 

Thank you for everything you’ve done. But I don’t know what I was thinking. It was the heat of the moment and I was so angry with my parents. You presented me with an opportunity and I took it and I am so grateful for that. But sitting alone in the dark, my thoughts raced and I realized something. If my dad found out I was with you, he’d ruin you. You’d lose everything Jake and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I was the reason you were in ruins and lost anything, especially your career. You worked hard to get where you are, and I’m not worth losing that over. So I decided to go back home. I know you’re going to be angry with me for a while, but I couldn’t cost you everything and have you hate me for the rest of your life. I’d rather you be mad at me for a while and still be a friend. I’ll see you on base, Jake. I’ll text you in the morning to let you know I made it home.

Love, Katie

“No. No.” I ripped up the note, rushing for the front door to see the deadbolt was unlocked, but the knob itself was. She walked out of the house and made sure the door was locked. I threw the door open stepping outside in hopes she got up just minutes before me but the streets were empty and it was still dark. She walked the whole way home. There was no way she took a car, she didn’t have a phone to get an uber or a lyft. “Oh my god.” My fingers went through my hair, stress pumping through my veins. God knows what her parents did to her when she got home, if she even made it home. I rushed back inside, calling Rooster as I paced around my living room. “What’s wrong? You never call me this early.” “Katie’s gone.” I blurted out. “Katie? She’s probably in that hell hole at her parent’s house. What do you mean she’s gone?” I bit my lip, realizing I never told him or Phoenix. “Yesterday, she was really upset and she wanted out. So I offered for her to stay here.” I heard rustling on the other end. “Are you telling me that Katie stayed at your house last night?” I nodded. “She said she wanted to go, so we rushed out through the hangar and she got in the truck and we just drove off base.” 

“Holy shit.” “Rooster, I put her to bed in the guest room and I woke up and she’s gone. The clothes I gave her were folded up, her dress and shoes were gone and I have a note sitting here on my counter that says she went back to her parents.” I slid down the wall, my head falling back against it. “Rooster man. What if she didn’t even make it home? She left in the dark and walked. What if she never made it?” The thought of her not making it home scared me because there were a million other things that could’ve happened. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. Go about your day normally. When it comes time for her to show up on base, we’ll see if she shows up. If not, we’ll go from there but if she does then we know she’s okay.” I scoffed. “You want me to wait ten hours before doing anything?” It was harsh, but I couldn’t wait that long. “If we do anything beforehand, it shows that you know she was gone and Commander Blair will know you had something to do with her leaving. If he ties you up in anything, you can’t help her.” I knew he was right, I knew he was. But I wanted so badly to go to her parents house and kick the door in. “Okay. Okay. But Rooster, if she doesn’t show up-” “We’ll figure out a plan.” I nodded. “Just go on your run and get ready for work.” He said and I sighed, getting up. “Okay, I’ll see you later.” I said before hanging up, walking out my front door. 

The day dragged by and I only wanted to be in the air to pass the time, but of course I had to be in the hangar for a while. I kept checking my phone, for the time and Katie’s text. She never texted me this morning like she said she would. Phoenix and Kelly are both trying to reassure me that she just forgot but something isn’t sitting right with me. Around the time she would arrive, Phoenix and Rooster followed me to the rec room and my face fell when I didn’t see her. “Maybe she got tied up in her dad’s office.” Rooster said and we all agreed to sit on the couch and wait. We had plenty of time. After about ten minutes Coop and Blake appeared in the doorway, shaking Commander Blair’s hand with a smile. Finally they turned and walked into the room. “It was only a matter of time.” Coop said with a smirk. “What are you two assholes smirking about?” Natasha asked. “Finally got rid of that bitch Katie.” Coop said and I stood, glaring at him. “What did you say?” Rooster stood as well, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’s no longer allowed on base. Apparently you three were too much of a distraction for her. I mean, I’ll miss giving her a hard time but it’ll be nice to finally have peace and quiet.” 

“You call what you did a hard time?” He gave me that annoying smirk and I wanted to punch it off his face. “Not my fault she couldn’t take a joke.” I pulled my fist back until a smaller hand caught my arm. “Hangman!” Phoenix’s voice stopped me and I turned to see she was the one holding my arm. “He’s not worth it.” I glared at him, knowing she was right. But I still wanted to hurt him. "Let's go. Mav has some paperwork for us." They hauled me out of the room and I yanked myself free. "What the hell kind of paperwork does Maverick have for us?" I asked and Rooster laughed. "He doesn't. We just had to get you out of there." I scoffed, following them towards the hangar. "So what do we do now?" I asked. "We figure out what the hell happened to Katie. It's not unlikely that Commander Blair barred her from base,  but I want to find out for myself." Phoenix said. "It's not gonna be easy." Rooster responded and I sighed. "No one said it would be."

~~~

I woke up to the sun shining in through my window, blinding me as I opened my eyes. I hate that my room caught the morning sun. I closed my eyes, rolling onto my back as I took a deep breath. Everything would change today and my relationship with my parents would be better. I laid there in the silence until a loud whirring outside my door startled me. I shot up in my bed, looking at my door as my heart thudded in my chest. I slowly got up when the noise stopped and I made my way to the door, pressing my ear to it. The noise started again and I jumped back. I grabbed the door handle, attempting to twist it and it didn't move. I looked down and noticed the lock that was usually on my door handle was no longer there. 

I yanked on the handle, hoping to pull it open but I stopped when there was a click and it opened slightly. I could see my dad’s face on the other side and he glared at me, but what caught my attention even more was the silver chain crossing in front of his face. "Daddy? What are you doing?" I asked. "Making sure you never leave this room again." He said before slamming the door and locking it from the outside. "No!" I grabbed the handle but it wouldn't budge. "Why are you doing this?" I asked as I cried, the tears immediately coating my cheeks. "Because if we can't control you, you give us no choice than to keep you here. I will not let you ruin this family!" He yelled and I rested my forehead on the door. "What about last night?" I asked. It was quiet for a moment before the lock clicked and the chain moved. 

My mother quickly walked in as I sat up, her back resting against the door. "You are an ungrateful little shit. Do you really think we meant anything we said last night? If we hadn't acted the way we did, you would've tried to leave again. It was easier to get you up here and get the lock on while you were asleep." I furrowed my brows. "How did you know I'd come home?" She just laughed. "You can't survive without your father or I. I knew you'd be back, it would only be a matter of time." I was growing angry. At my mother for doing this, at myself for allowing it. "You're a royal bitch." I snapped. Her hand shot out, smacking me in the face. I should be used to it by now but it still caught me off guard. 

"I'm done with the disrespect! This is why we're locking you in here! Because you're an awful daughter! We can't deal with you anymore, but we won't let you ruin this family!" She yelled before grabbing the door handle. "Have fun staring at the same four walls for the rest of your life." I jumped up and she shut the door, locking it and putting the chain on. I pulled on the handle, hoping it would open. I started to panic, knowing she would make good on her words. I would spend my life in here if she thought that was right. "LET ME OUT!" I screamed, pounding on the door, hoping somehow I would knock it down. "You can't keep me in here!" I sobbed. I finally stopped beating on the door when my hands started to bleed. "Let me out. Please, let me out!" I cried as I slid down the door. "You can't do this to me! Let me out!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @genius2050 @sandaltoesocks @mayhemmanaged @dempy @itsdesiree86 @callsign-athena @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy

#top gun maverick #undiagnosed #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman fluff #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc #ADHD OC

[solarrclxud]

LOVE BIRDS

pairing : (modern )xiao x reader

genre: fluff

warnings : not proofread , horrom movie mention? cuddling?

a/n: youre so right omg trauma xiao is touch startved but also would throw up if you hold his hand. also when is it my fking turn.

requested by : @iota1111

You lay on your bed , bored out of your mind as your boyfriend slept soundly , curled up into a ball . You had already taken 20 pictures to tease him with later and there wasnt much else to do except doom scroll . The room was pitch dark except for a sliver of light from under the door to the living room . Just how you both liked it .

"[name]?" , xiao croaked out , his voice cracking from having just woken up , you turned to him and apologized softly , your voice barely above a whisper . " Did i wake you up ?" you asked , only to receive on response. Did he doze off again ? The bedsheets rustled as he moved closer to you , holding his arms out to you , lifting the blanket in an attempt to invite you to rest. You smiled and put your phone down on the sidetable , allowing him to cuddle into you properly.

Satisfied with your attention he sighed at the comfort of resting his head on your chest , his breath lightly fanning your collarbone and your hand scratching his head in habit. He wrapped his hand around you tighter , snuggling into your heat as you let out a small chuckle .

---

You sat on a bar stool in your kitchen , smiling as you watched Xiao move around teh kitchen trying not to burn anything . " Dont laugh!" he said , his face flustered cause of your continuous gaze. " I cant help it you look like a tomato, an im pretty sure the house wont survive this." you retorted , your hand covering your mouth in an attempt to conceal your giggles . He stopped cutting the vegetables only to look at you in annoyance , trying to look genuinely angry . That didnt last long though when you kissed him , a short peck right on his lips . He grinned , chasing your lips when you pulled away .

---

It was 4am when you woke up on the couch , both of you cuddled up into eachother , a horror movie playing on the TV forgotten . You rubbed your eyes to see Xiao curled up , hugging your arm and snoring lightly , the blue on the TV screen making him appear even paler than he was . You placed a soft kiss on his forehead as he nuzzled into you .

#xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fluff #xiao angst #genshin #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin xiao #genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin fic #genshin impact fluff

[eddiemadmunson]

Voice part 2

Thi first part of this fic was inspired by one of my late night talks with my dearest @hamatoanne​ ❤ You can read the first part HERE. I strongly recommand you to read the first part or you could be confused about what is going on. 

Paring: Aemond x fem!reader

Warning: dirty talk, NSFW themes, mutual masturbation

A/N: English is not my 1st language, please tell me If you noticed some big grammar mistake 😊

TAG: @syzrina​, @i-killed-ramsey​, @zillahvathek​, @schniiipsel​ @uselessbutinteresting​ @the-phantom-of-arda​​

“Is this really happening?” you thought to yourself as you walked next to Aemond towards your apartment complex because it was closer to the university campus than Aemond’s family mansion in the richer part of the city. You glanced at Aemond and you wondered how is it possible that you have never realized how handsome he is. Of course you knew that he is attractive, you weren’t blind, but when you looked at him now you felt the heat coloring your cheeks.

“Do you know, that staring is rude, Y/N,” he smirked when he caught you glancing at him.

“I can’t help it, you are so beautiful,” you smirked when he blushed. It was a rare sight to see Aemond Targaryen blush, so you really enjoyed it.

You were almost at your apartment building when a big black limo stopped in front of you. The window rolled down and Aemond’s father Viserys waved at you. 

“Aemond, Y/N it’s always pleasure to see you,” he said politely.

“Hello Mr. Targaryen, how are you?” you asked him, confused about what he is doing here.

“I feel great, but I am afraid that I have to rob you of the company of my son. Aemond, get in the car, we need to pack your suitcase and we are going to Paris in 3 hours,” he said cheerfully but with an authority in his voice.

“What? Now? Take Aegon with you, he is the one who will be your successor not me,” Aemond responded obviously displeased with the whole situation.

“I am already here, you moron,” the window at the backseat rolled down revealing grinning Aegon. He wore sunglasses so you guessed that he was hangover once again.

“Hey kitten,” he pulled down his glasses and winked at you and your cheeks turned red with anger. How dare him to call you kitten after what he did to you. You completely ignored him and turned to Aemond.

“Have a save trip, Aemond. We can “study” when you come back home,” you said softly, trying to hide your disappointment. 

“Are you two doing anything else than studying? You are so boring,” Aegon faked a yawn, but his piercing blue eyes never leaving your figure. Aemond smirked at his brother and turned to you.

“I will call you,” he assured you and pulled you into a hug.

“I hope you will dream about me, princess. Because I will think about you and your tight pussy this whole trip,” he whispered against your ear, making you gasp silently. He chuckled and pulled away and slowly walked to the car. Fuck, even his walk was incredibly sexy, his hair swinging in the wind.

“Bye, Y/N,” Viserys waved at you kindly and you awkwardly waved back, your cheeks were red as tomato. Aegon gave you suspicious look when he noticed your awkward behavior around his younger brother but you ignored him and turned around and walked towards your apartment with sad sigh.

MASTERLIST 

  You spent the next two days texting with Aemond. His father kept him so busy that he barely had time for himself. You missed him, but you understood the situation, you knew that Viserys could be really strict with his sons. So you were really surprised when you saw Aemond’s name on your screen, calling you at 10 PM.

“Hello, princess,” he said softly and you blushed.

“Hi, Aemond, how are you, how do you like Paris so far,” you babbled nervously and he chuckled.

“I am fine, princess. But I am tired and I miss you. Paris is beautiful city, but unfortunately I don’t have time for sightseeing. Our father drags us on every single meeting he has in the city. He still hopes I will change my mind and become interested in business and economy,” he sighed in frustration.

“It’s Aegon, not you, who is studying economy, he should try to get Aegon’s interest not yours,” you said gently, feeling sorry for him, you knew how much it made him frustrated that his father ignored his career choice and kept trying to change his mind. 

“Sure, Aegon is studying economy, but all he cares about is how to get under the skirt of each and every one of his classmates,” he huffed and quickly added.

“I am sorry princess, I didn’t want to upset you”.

“That’s OK, Aemond. I don’t care about him and his actions anymore, he can fuck the whole university for all I care,” you assured him and you really felt that way.

“Where is he anyway? I hope he didn’t bother you to go drinking with him, I know how much you hate that,” you added worriedly.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Father forbid him to go to the city bars, because we have important meeting tomorrow morning and he doesn’t want him to be hangover. So that idiot went downstairs and drinks at the hotel bar,” you could almost hear his eyes rolling.

“But enough about Aegon, how have you been, princess?” he asked with genuine interest about your day.

“Well, I spent most of my time at school. It’s getting crazy there with the end of the semester approaching. I had some projects I had to work on and I started watching new series on Netflix,” you answered.

“What projects do you have, anything for our Ancient Rome history class? We could work on it together,” he suggested with a smirk.

“Yeah, I can imagine how we would work on a project together,” you chuckled.

“Nope, it’s for my English class, I work with Harwin Strong on it,” you said without thinking. Aemond was silent for few moments and you thought that you lost connection.

“Aemond, are you there?”

“Yes, I am here, and I don’t like the fact that you are working with Harwin,” he said darkly.

“What? Why? He is OK. And unlike my previous project partners he actually does some work and tries to get the best grade,” you said in confusion.

“But he keeps staring at you,” he growled.

“What? Are you serious?” you asked him.

“I caught him so many times looking at you at the class,” he said stubbornly.

“Aemond... are you jealous?” you asked him, strange warm feeling of being desired rushed over you. 

“Of course I am jealous! I don’t want other man to look at you!” he fumed. This was new to you, Aegon has never been never jealous. He was too confident that he believed that no man would try anything on you. And he probably never gave you enough attention to notice the looks from other man. How could you be so blind for so long was a mystery to you.

“You don’t have to be jealous, Aemond. He never tried anything on me, and even if he did, I would tell him, that I am seeing someone else,” you said softly.

“Ok, princess. But you will tell me, if he tries anything on you, OK?” he said, jealousy still bubbling in the back of his throat.

“You have my word,” you promised.

“So, Y/N. Do you miss me?” he completely changed the topic, making you giggle.

“Yes, Aemond. I miss you so much, when are you coming back home, babe?” you almost whined, that sound going straight to his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N. That’s the first time you called me babe and I love it,” he groaned and you blushed. His little groan made your pussy tingle a little. 

“You didn’t answer my question, babe! When are you coming home to me, you left me all hot and bothered,” you teased him and he gulped loudly.

“We are going to stay here for two more days, princess. And after that I am all yours,” he said seductively and you felt shiver running down your spine.

“Y/N can we switch to a video call, I want to see you?” he asked and you bit your lip nervously.

“I am already in bed in my night clothes, Aemond,” you said and shifted on the bed.

“Are you trying to seduce me now, princess?” you heard the amusement in his voice.

“N-no?” you stuttered suddenly feeling hot.

“One more reason to switch this conversation into a video call. Please, princess,” he lowered his voice, using his “voice actor” voice at you, he talked slowly, drawing the words out.

“Fuck, OK. I can’t say no to you, when you talk to me like this,” you whimpered and he smirked.

“Wait... use your laptop, I will call you via messenger, I want to have a bigger screen to see my beautiful girl more clearly,” he purred into your ear and you gulped. 

“All right, give me a minute,” you ended the call and sprinted for the laptop. You opened it and tried to quickly make yourself looking little more presentable but he was already calling you. You pressed the green button and his handsome face appeared in front of you.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said smoothly and you blushed.

“Hi, babe,” you couldn’t help yourself and smiled from ear to ear when you saw the look on his face, his eyes almost popped out. At that moment you realized what you were wearing. Only your white, almost translucent tank top and tiny pink shorts. It was hot in London now so you wore as little clothes as possible. You quickly placed the notebook on your nightstand so he could see only your face and your shoulders.

“Come on, princess. Don’t hide from me, I want to see you,” he pouted his lips and you desperately wanted to kiss him. You sighed and placed it back on your lap so he could see little bit more of you.

“Your turn, Mr. Targaryen, I want to see more than just your pretty face,” you teased him and he smirked. 

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he placed the notebook on his bed and you gasped when you looked at him. He was shirtless and wore grey sweatpants. You realized that you have never seen him without his shirt and you were missing out a lot. His muscled chest with tight abs looked glorious, you wanted to lick every inch of his skin and mark the perfectly pale skin with your nails.

“It seems you like what you see, princess,” he smirked when he noticed your mesmerized face.

“Hmm...” you bit your bottom lip unintentionally and he laughed.

“I can put on a shirt, it seems it’s distracting you,” he teased and you quickly shook your head.

“No, Aemond, it won’t be necessary, let me enjoy the view,” you flirted.

“Two more days and you can see me on your own eyes, and even touch me. Would you like to touch me, princess?” his voice changed into his seductive tone and you immediately felt the effect he had on you.

“Yes, I would love that,” you gulped. 

“Damn it, princess. You have no idea how much I wish to be able to place you on my lap now and have you close to me. Or maybe it’s not a good idea, you would probably feel uncomfortable with my hard cock pressing against your ass,” he added with wicked chuckle.

“You... you are h-hard?” you stuttered and your eyes dropped to his crotch, but you couldn’t see anything.

“Yes, I have been semi-hard from the moment I heard your sexy voice, but when I saw your cute little sleeping outfit I am painfully hard, princess. I fucking need you and I am going crazy here,” he said in raspy voice. You felt the goose bumps forming on your body. His voice was already your biggest turn on since you discovered his Reddit page, but when his dirty talk was directed to you, you welt absolutely feral. Little whimper left your lips and Aemond’s eye darkened.

“Do you like to hear how much I desire you, Y/N? Does it turn you on? Do you like to hear how desperate I am to sink my cock into that tight little pussy of yours?” he went on and your pussy was getting wetter and wetter with every word. 

“Please, Aemond,” you begged, not really knowing what are you begging him for. He was in another country, he couldn’t help you now.

“Fuck, princess, I love that needy, desperate voice of yours. It makes me wonder how much you will beg me to fuck you after hours of edging you,” he groaned and you subtly rocked your pussy against the small pillow you were sitting on, his voice was making you soaked. Aemond noticed that and his eyes was almost blowing up with desire. You perky nipples stood against the material of your thin tank top and he desperately wanted to suck them into his mouth, hearing you moan his name and grab his hair to keep him close to your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N. Did you fuck that pretty pussy with that vibrator of yours while thinking about me? Did you make yourself feel good while listening to my audios again?” he asked you darkly, his voice laced with desire. Your eyes widen, how he could possibly know what you were doing?  

“Yes, I did, Aemond. I missed you so much and I needed to hear your voice, when you couldn't call me,” you blushed when you admitted that he is right. 

“I don’t think you missed me or my voice in general, you naughty little girl, you missed my dirty talk, don’t you?” he purred.

“My dirty little slut,” he added and you rocked harder against your pillow.

“That’s not truth, I really miss you, babe,” you whimpered lowly.

“Look at you, princess. Rubbing your pussy against your little pillow like a horny little slut, thinking that I won’t notice,” he said and you froze. You thought that your subtle moves would go unnoticed by him, but you should have known better. Your face turned red and you quickly tossed the pillow away.

“I have no idea, what are you talking about,” you smiled innocently, but Aemond was smiling at you like a shark.

“Liar,” he whispered darkly.

“I don’t like liars, Y/N. You can be honest with me, I won’t judge you. You need to embrace your sexuality, princess. There is nothing wrong about what you were doing,” he added softly and you nodded.

“I...I am really horny Aemond, your voice is almost sending me over the edge, I think I need to go to the bathroom and take care of myself,” you blurted, ready to sprint to the bathroom and rub your clit furiously until you come. Your little confession made him even harder than he already was. You were killing him without even trying.

“Stay here, princess. I want to see you. I want to see your flushed cheeks, your fingers deep inside your pussy, fucking that tight hole, while looking at me, I want to see you cum for me, while your other hand will play with your beautiful tits, teasing that hard nipples of yours, I want to see you fall apart,” he growled and you moaned loudly at his words.

“Fuck, Aemond, I have never done this,” you admitted. Aegon was your only boyfriend and he liked to fuck you a lot, but he really didn’t have much fantasy and he definitely never videocalled you like this.

“That’s OK, princess, I will tell you what to do, just follow my orders,” you gulped but nodded, already feeling another wave of desire.

“First of all I want you to take off that tank top you are wearing.”

“Please baby, I want to see you,” he added and you hesitantly grabbed the edge of your top and slowly took it off, you felt the urge to cover yourself, but the look on his face stopped you. 

“Fuck, princess. You are so beautiful. So fucking gorgeous. Perfect,” he licked his lips and your nipples grew even harder if it was possible, it was almost painful.

“Close your eyes, take your breasts in your palms, just imagine that it’s my hands”.

“I can’t babe, your hands are so much bigger,” you complained and Aemond laughed.

“I know, princess, I know. I will take care of my girl as soon as I get back home. I don’t intend to leave you like this ever again, so you won’t have to go through this torture again”.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, your hands on your breasts, do it, now. But don’t touch your nipples yet,” he ordered and this time you obeyed. You weighted your breasts in your palms, trying to imagine it’s him.

“I can bet your skin is so soft there. I can’t wait to mark your skin, kiss that tender flesh, circle your nipples with my tongue, teasing you for a while before taking it into my mouth, sucking gently on it - you can touch your nipples now, princess - before sucking harder, taking your nipple and big part of your breast in my mouth. Feasting on your chest like a man who starved for weeks. Fuck, baby, I can almost feel it on my tongue,” he moaned at the sight of you - your eyes closed, your small hands playing with your boobs, your pussy desperately trying to grind on something. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered and he couldn’t take it anymore and his hand slipped into his sweatpants. He was hard as a rock. You were his deepest darkest fantasy and you were sitting in front of him (well not really), touching yourself and moaning his name. He started slowly stroking his cock, while his eye hungrily watched you listening to his orders.

“Keep your eyes closed, Y/N, spread your legs for me,” he commanded and you hesitated for a second but after few moments you obeyed him and spread your legs wide. He groaned when he noticed the wet patch on your shorts. You were soaked and all he had to do was talk to you. He felt proud of himself and for once in his life, absolutely desired.

“Now move your left hand down your body. Slowly, princess. There is no need to rush,” he instructed you, his voice seductive and low, sending shivers to your clenching pussy. Your hand reach the hem of your shorts and you stopped, waiting for his next instruction.

“Come on, princess. You know what to do,” he encouraged you.

“Do you want me to take off my shorts, babe? Please, they are drenched,” you asked him innocently and he stroked his cock harder. 

“Damn it, you little minx. Yes, you can take them off. I didn’t want to push you into this, but when you ask so nicely, do it,” he allowed you to take off your last piece of clothing. You slowly took off your pink shorts, spreading your legs again.

“Fuck, princess! I love the way how you spread your legs for me, my little horny slut. Look at you, you are so wet for me. My naughty little princess,” he licked his lips, dying to taste your dripping cunt for the first time. He hated his father right now for taking him on this stupid trip. He would rather be between your legs, eating you out, getting loud moans from your sweet lips.

“Aemond, babe, can I touch myself, please!!!” you whined, getting impatient while he was lost in his little daydream.

“Someone is eager here. You can circle your clit, princess. Slowly, really slowly, tease yourself with the tips of your fingers,” he instructed you and you gladly followed his instructions. Your fingertips grazed your clit and you sighed happily. It helped you relieved some of the tension, but it wasn’t enough, your pussy was clenching around nothing and you were so turned on, that you were almost crying. 

“Keep circling that little sensitive clit, my love. Tease yourself for a little longer. Good girl, you are so good for me,” he whimpered and you half opened your eyes. You weren’t ready for what you saw. Aemond’s eye was full of desire, his blue irises almost nonexistent. His torso glistening with sweat, and his hand was moving up and down. Fuck!! Is he touching himself while looking at you doing the same?  

“Aemond, babe, let me see you,” you begged him, slipping your finger in your pussy to gather up some of your juices and went back to teasing your bundle of nerves.

“Please, let me see your cock, please,” you begged again and he almost cum at that sight. Your mouth half opened like if you were ready to take him in and suck him real good. And you probably really wanted to do it.

“Well, princess, it’s only fair to be completely bare in front of you”. He shifted on the bed and placed the laptop on the night stand so you could see his big hand fisting his hard cock slowly, teasing the red head, pre-cum leaking from it serving as a lube to him.

“Fuck, you are so big and beautiful,” you were drooling and slid your fingers inside your pussy without thinking. 

“You are bad girl, Y/N. Pushing your fingers into your pussy without permission, what a filthy angel, look at you, need it that bad, hmm? Your pussy needs to be filled, isn’t it true, my little slut?” he groaned and gripped his cock tighter. He let you go unpunished this time, you both were really horny and too far away from each other.

“You can cum, princess, ride your fingers and make yourself cum hard,” you slid another finger in, stretching your walls, while your thumb circled your clit. It didn’t take long for you to cum, crying out his name, your voice hoarse and filled with passion. Aemond noticed that your other hand went around your neck, right before you fell apart. He kept that knowledge in his mind for later. You watched Aemond’s hand moving faster, his strokes were shorter and more aggressive, when he cum you watched lustfully as the beads of cum coated his toned abdomen. He let out a loud moan, your name slipping from his thin lips and that made you cum for the second time.

“Wow, that was something, princess. That one of the sexiest experiences of my life,” he said, out of breath.

“Hmmm,” you hummed and you pulled your fingers out of your pussy, you sucked them into your mouth, licking your juices and moaning. Aemond felt his cock waking up again at that sight.

“How do you taste, love?” he asked you, his voice low and seductive.

“Deliciously, too bad that you can’t have a taste, Aemond,” you teased him and chuckled darkly. Aemond woke the dark/dirty side of your mind. You have always been like this, but you behaved like a good girl and let that part of your personality sleep in the corner of your mind. With Aemond you started to feel confident about yourself and your deepest desires. You were excited to what you two could experience together.

“Are you provoking me, my little slut? Taking advantage of me being so far away from you? Enjoy it while you can, princess. Because soon I will come home and your fingers won’t go anywhere near that slutty tight pussy. It will be my fingers, my mouth and tongue and most importantly my cock what will go inside. I will ruin you, princess, you will scream my name so loudly that your neighbors will remember it perfectly,” he promised you and you shivered, arousal again rising in your veins.

“And since you are such a little tease, you are forbidden to touch yourself or use that stupid little pink friend of yours on yourself, Y/N! Are we clear?” his eye darkened and you knew that he is not joking, he was deadly serious.

“Yes, babe. I understand you perfectly. But you are so cruel to me,” you pouted your lips when he laughed like a cartoon villain.

“But same for you, no touching yourself until we see each other,” you winked when you saw his shocked expression.

“Y/N Y/L/N, since when you are so bossy? But fair enough, no touching for me,” he promised you.

Your conversation was ended by Aegon bursting through the door on unsteady legs!

“Ewww, Aemond cover your dick, I don’t need to see it!” he yelled and you quickly closed the laptop so he won’t notice you.

“I am sorry for him, he is such a jerk. See you in two days, princess. It was amazing night 💦💥😈 I will text you tomorrow when I can. I love you,” Aemond texted you couple minutes later. You kept staring at the last sentence “I love you”. You felt butterflies in your stomach and you were smiling like an idiot.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

[ryo-maybe]

Ryo, we must save the Blue Archives

THIS SUMMER

*A jaunty little tune, accordion and mandolin singing together in lively unison, accompanies the camera as it pans across a sunny Mediterranean cityscape and through a window. Fading transition to a shot of tomato sauce being stirred inside an open rice cooker with a baguette. The camera follows the baguette as a French-Italian man uses it to taste the sauce and smiles, satisfied.*

"Ryo, we must save the Blue Archives!"

A YOUNG MAN'S NORMAL LIFE TAKES AN UNEXPECTED TURN

*A wall explodes in a deluge of debris and fog, the music turning into some trite Two Steps From Hell bullshit. The camera zooms in from a low angle as a buff Southern Asian man emerges and strikes that one pose Dwayne Johnson makes all the time, you know the one.*

THE TRUTH REVEALED, HE SHALL SUSPEND HIS DISBELIEF... OR DIE!

*Several phone screens are shown in rapid sequence, a finger flicking frantically through pictures of young anime women endowed with plentiful bosoms, all dressed in a variety of differently designed high school uniforms.*

"The data doesn't lie. The average Blue Archive girl's breast size is indirectly proportional to her age."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Don't you get it, Ryo? They're highschoolers. All of them."

"No way. Not Asuna. Come on."

*Sal meets Ryo's eyes. His gaze is mirthless, his voice grave, his pecs rock-hard.*

"Asuna. Karin. Hanako. All of them. All of them..."

DIVIDED BY FATE AND BLOOD.

*The camera pans around a skyscraper's windswept rooftop. A teary-eyed Ryo and an enraged Sal, bruised and battered, their clothes a torn mess, are respectively pointing a wooden spoon and a tablet pen at each other.*

"I refuse to see it!"

"You can't just pretend they're not kids, Ryo!"

"Can you pretend I'm not French, Sal!?"

*Sal gasps*

UNITED BY PURPOSE AND SWEAT.

*Slowmo montage of Ryo and Sal laughing as they toss flour at each other in a kitchen, jog at the beach, hit each other with joypads while playing Mario Party. Ryo is shown lifting a 5kg dumbbell with great effort. The camera immediately pans down to show he's sitting on the 80kg barbell Sal is lifting.*

TRANSCENDING HISTORY AND THE WORLD, A TALE OF GAMBLING AND ART, ETERNALLY UNTOLD

*The music reaches the zenith of its crescendo, accompanying a montage of several scenes: Ryo frantically typing on his keyboard in front of a screen showcasing a Fandom Wikia; Sal slamming a Jalter dakimakura into a display case full of FGO figures; Ryo and Sal falling through a swirling vortex of AI-generated art.*

THE LINE BETWEEN ART AND CONTEXT SHALL BE DRAWN IN BLOOD

*Ryo and Sal standing back to back, surrounded by a horde of Arataki Itto cosplayers.*

"I never thought I'd destroy a mobage side by side with a French..."

"What about side by side with an Italian?"

"Heh... aye, I could do that."

SUPER GACHA BROS - FRAGMENTS OF BLUE AND ARCHIVE

*The screen turns black, lingering for a few seconds until, preceded by an activation noise, a silhouette appears from the darkness, backlit by blue light.*

"Excuse me for.. dropping in."

ONLY IN THEATERS

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Shadows Entwined: Part 5

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 / Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

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

A/N: Boy, did this take longer than I had thought it would. Anyway, it is finally going again!💙

Also, how have I been so thick that I did not know commissioner Gordon is Batgirl’s dad?? My Batman loving little brother would hate me if he knew…

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

You learn about a break in at Arkham Asylum and get a little closer to the leader in blue.

Warnings: None in this one. Just a little fun before the horror.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

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

You watched curiously as the four mutant turtles started eating their pizzas, causing tomato sauce to be smeared all over their face. And you watched in amusement as they turned down Alfred’s offer on napkins, causing the poor man to enter yet another state of mental crisis. And here you thought your and Damian’s antics in the Wayne Manor was bad enough, but so far the turtles had already caused Alfred more trouble than you and your brother had ever done in a week.

Leo noticed the way you were looking at him and his brothers, and shot you a questioning look.

“Uhm…”, you said, holding a finger up to your face. “You got a little…”

“Oh!”, Leo said in sudden realization, quickly getting his face clean with the back of his hand. Once more you couldn’t help but laugh, and Leo found himself more focused on the beautiful sound instead of the pizza slice in his hand.

As Batgirl was about to take a bite of her pizza, and you finally managed to get a piece from Robin, Batman’s voice sounded behind you.

“Batgirl, Robin, (H/N). Shredder and Ra’s will be looking for something to replace the Cloud Seeder. Any leads on where they might find that?”

“Not right this second, no”, Batgirl said, quickly whipping the pizza grease from her face.

“Then that’s what you should be working on”, Batman said before walking away.

Suddenly the pizza in your mouth didn’t taste as great as it did a few seconds ago. You saw your brother stare down at the uneaten pizza in his hand, before he let out a sigh.

“Yes sir”.

“Come on, dude”, Michelangelo said, following Batman with a slice of pizza in his hand. “You can’t fight crime without partaking in a cheesy slice!”

“This isn’t the time for pizza”, was all Batman said, causing Mikey to stand back in shock and sadness, not believing what he had just heard. This prompted Donatello to comfort his brother with the same pizza slice, soothing his head while shushing him.

A familiar beeping rang out through the Batcave, with the well known bat logo taking over the big computer screen.

“The Bat Signal”, Batman said, turning back towards you and the rest of your bat family. “Robin, (H/N), Batgirl. Let’s move”.

“What about them?”, Batgirl asked, nodding towards the turtles.

“What do you mean, what about us?”, Leo asked, his eyes finding yours for a short second, causing your chest to feel a little lighter. “We’re coming with you”.

“Please no”, Robin said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If they come along she'll never keep her eyes straight!”, he exclaimed pointing in your and Leo’s direction. Your face suddenly felt hotter than the pizza slice you ate a few moments ago. You did not dare to look at Leo’s face, but had you done it, you would have noticed how his face has gotten just as hot as yours.

“I don’t know Shredder and I don’t know the Foot. Leonardo and his brothers are important assets”, Batman said, handing Raphael his sai back. “But, you’ll have to follow orders”. Batman eyes narrowed in on Leonardo. “This is still my city”. That comment did not go past the leader in blue. Batman wasn’t just talking about Gotham. He was talking about you as well. Asking Leonardo to follow his order on his ground, and his order when in regards to you.

“Deal”, Leo said, holding out his hand for Batman to shake on, only to be interrupted by Michelangelo, carrying the last of the uneaten pizza.

“We’re definitely gonna want road pizza!”

And with that you left the Batcave and went straight to the source of the Bat Signal. You did not find it surprising, to find the location to be Gotham City Police Department, and you found it less surprising when you saw Batgirl’s father standing on the roof, waiting, mumbling to himself like always.

“Hmm… Ninjas… As if he didn’t have enough problems in this city”, you heard commissioner Gordon say.

“Commissioner Gordon”. The old and tired commissioner turned at the sound of Batman’s well known voice. “What have you got for me?”

“It’s Arkham”, Gordon said, pulling a folder from his jacket. “The alarms went off an hour ago, but when…” He stopped, seeing the company that Batman had brought along. You, Robin and Batgirl was not an unusual sight for him, but four humanoid terrapins. That was something new. “What are those?”

“Teenagers”, Mikey smiled brightly.

“Mutants”, Donnie pointed out.

“Ninja”, Raphael growled.

“Turtles”, Leo finished.

“Have your boyfriend and his brothers been practicing or something?”, Robin asked you in a whisper, causing you to flick him over the head with your finger. Leo swallowed, acting as if he hadn't heard that.

Commissioner Gordon sighed, rubbing his temple, mumbling about a nice retirement where turtles didn’t talk.

“It’s okay Jim”, Batman comforted the commissioner. “They’re friends”. Jim Gordon took a second look at the four mutant turtles, thoughts spinning in his head, until Batman brought him back to reality. “Arkham?”

“Right”, Gordon breathed out, fixing his glasses. “When my people tried to move in they were attacked by ninjas. Like the ones that have been knocking over laboratories”.

“Shredder”, Leo grumbled, punching his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

“We got the perimeter locked down, but we have to assume there’s hostages inside”, commissioner Gordon continued, looking back down into his folder. “Guards, doctors, nurses. I need you too…” Jim Gordon looked up to find that all of you had already left. No trace of the people he just had been talking to. “Sure”, he mumbled to himself. “Leave before I finish, pff, that never gets old”.

You jumped and ran from one roof to another, right in the heels of Batman and Leonardo, listening as they were discussing the information commissioner Gordon had just provided.

“The Foot have been robbing high tech laboratories all week”, Leo said as you ran across the rooftop. “It doesn’t make sense for Shredder to take over an asylum all of a sudden”.

“It doesn’t matter”, Batman said, keeping his eyes ahead of him as you got closer to the edge before the next building. “Arkham and its inmates are too dangerous to take any chances”.

You jumped over the edge and the alley underneath, seeing the moon light cast shadows on the street below, before continuing onto the next roof. You heard as Mikey laughed and roared, riding his skateboard like a mad man.

“Last one there pays the pizza!”, he called out to Robin as he rode past him.

“It’s not a race!”, Robin yelled back in annoyance.

“Not with that attitude it isn’t”, Batgirl said, bringing out her grappling hook, before shooting away over the night sky.

“You gotta step it up, little brother! Otherwise I would like a family size!” you smiled, increasing your speed so you could get ahead of him, inching ever closer to Leo’s side. His blue eyes catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. “What do you say, Blue? Last one there have to do push ups?”

“Just because I’m a turtle, it doesn’t mean that I am slow!”, he called after you as you raced ahead, a smile spreading over his face.

“I’ll have to see you ahead of me before I’ll believe it!”, you called out, jumping to the next building, your hair flowing behind you as you did so.

Doing his best to ignore the burning look from Batman, Leo sped out, jumping right after you. A laughter escaped you as you noticed he was catching up. Wasn’t all of you on a daring mission on your way to Arkham Asylum, with your father’s heavy gaze right behind you, Leo wondered what he could do when he caught up to you. Would he dare to hug you? Just the mere thought was enough to make him scold himself mentally. Just a moment ago he had thought of what Shredder’s plans might be, and now he wanted to hug you.

Leo watched as you jumped onto yet another roof, a level further down than the one you just came from, way ahead than the rest of Leo and the rest. Disappearing from his vision, Leo couldn’t help but get a little worried. He increased his speed even further, before jumping down to the same roof. But Leo’s worry only grew further when he couldn’t find you on said rooftop. A mild panic managed to settle into Leo’s head, worrying what could have happened to you. Did the Foot take you? Or Ra’s al Ghul? What would Batman say? Were you okay?-

“Boo!”

Leo jumped and turned, finding you laughing your warm laughter. He couldn’t help feeling relieved, seeing your happy smile in front of him. But how you managed to sneak up on him was a mystery. Yet another thing he wished to learn about you.

“I’m sorry, Leo”, you said, holding your stomach in laughter. “I couldn’t help myself”.

“No, it’s okay”, he said, taking the time to admire your face and your smile, just as Robin jumped over your heads and landed on the roof, his feet still moving as he ran.

“You gotta step it up, big sis!”, he yelled over your shoulder. “I doubt Turtle Boy can pay for my deep pan!”

Leo caught a glimpse of your face turning deep red under your mask, before you started running after your adopted brother.

“You little maggot!”

Leo couldn't help but chuckle as he started running after the two of you. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be dreaming about hugging you. Especially not if you looked that adorable with a red face.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt leo #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #batman vs tmnt #batman vs teenage mutant ninja turtles #batman vs tmnt leo #tmnt vs batman #batman vs tmnt donatello #batman vs tmnt leonardo #batman vs tmnt raph #tmnt 2019 #batman vs tmnt x reader #batman vs tmnt raphael #batman vs tmnt donnie #batman vs michelangelo #batman vs mikey #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #batman vs tmnt leo x reader #batman vs tmnt leonardo x reader

[kumimi3]

could you please also write the idol scenario for chigiri too? i really liked your last one!

❪ BLUE LOCK BOYS <33 ❫ ❮ a star idol dancing for their lover ⟡⟡ ↳ chigiri and isagi

continuing | return back to level i !

❪ chigiri ❫

he knew of your performance the day before, Chigiri is observant and has good hearing, listening intently to the producers in the meeting room, the mention of your name took him by surprised

Chigiri was subtle, he knew it was going to be a secret with how quiet you’ve been since last week, practicing on your vocals much strictly than before

bringing you water inside the music studio, putting a humidifier inside your shared apartment, making sure you don’t hurt your vocals by helping you breath, those are the simple services he did to help you since day one

And once your performance is now starting, Chigiri was already at the front seat as he looks at you with a small smile, clapping along with the crowd as you/your group starts to sing and dance

Chigiri has been allured by you since the camera showed your majestic visuals, as if you were looking at him with those sweet eyes of yours

When the performance ended, he was one of the people who stood up and clapped even more loudly, you just did so wonderful with your performance, how could he not?

Taking away your earpiece and entering the hallway, you suddenly stopped when you heard many squeals and screams from all over the people in the stadium, you realized you were on the screen, but why exactly were they loud all of a sudden?

“Congratulations, Y/n, you look marvelous as always."

Turning around, you met Chigiri’s longing eyes stare at you while holding a big bouquet of your favorite flowers, he was holding it tightly in secret, he just couldn’t help but blush when you smiled at him

Everyone was looking at the screen, watching as Chigiri starts to walk forward and hand you the flowers, what surprised them the most was him suddenly picking you up and kiss you so passionately you almost forgot that you and your lover are still obvious to everyone

His teammates whistled at the scene, but Chigiri didn’t care, he is in his own bubble with you

Breaking off the kiss, he smiled as you both press each other’s forehead, and when he heard that the match was about to start, he pecked your forehead with a light kiss and ruffled your hair before walking together with his team, not before saying

“Y/n, I’ll win this game for you.”

❪ isagi ❫

This boy… OML

Once he saw you at the stage, he was stunned, who was that beautiful angel dancing with the most mesmerizing aura? Oh my gosh its his lover, the love of his life!!!

Won’t waste a moment and quickly sprint towards the seat closest to your position, he will scream your name at the top of his lungs and literally combust and short-circuit when you notice and give him a cute expression

“Hey, miss! Do you see them? That’s my sweetheart!” “Mister, look at the one in the middle, they’re so beautiful right? I’m gonna marry them someday!"

Compliments you so much to the other people, he barely couldn’t focus on you because he knows that just one stare across your eyes and he knows his legs will feel like jelly with how much he loves you

If he has his phone with him, he will definitely take pictures and videos of you, you can even hear him screaming behind the camera, “Go, Y/n!” “Gah, you’re so cool!"

The time the performance ends, he runs back to the field and open his arms to welcome you, it wasn’t long before he attacks you with so much kisses, cupping your face gently yet giggles so much

The rush of adrenaline finally dies down and his face now becomes like a tomato, apologizing to you, but he was still caressing your cheek and holding your waist

“I’m the luckiest man in the world. I’m gonna go up to the field and play, okay? And I want you to know that… I will win, for you, for us.”

#blue lock #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x gn reader #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #chigiri x you #bllk chigiri #chigiri x reader #chigiri x y/n #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x y/n #isagi yoichi #chigiri hyoma

[pretentiousgayguyidk]

I

Rome Lucia Callo

Would like to humbly request

Hakkai x male reader where Hakkai thinks reader is a girl and is really awkward but oh snap readers actually a dude and was just cross dressing for Mitsuya who wanted to see the dress on a person and Hakkai is just a mess please and thank you have a good day

My love for our bi disaster Hakkai is unmeasurable- like gender envy, kinning and simping?!?! Like genuinely Hakkai's like one of my favorite characters (we ignore that is at that about everyone but Kisaki lol) also pretty sure this is the only fic thats pure fluf- cause i usually wind up mentioning at least one sad thing

Bro you have such a cool name- like God damn

"Could you turn around?" Mitsuya asked, (Name) nodded. He was modeling a dress for his good friend, Mitsuya being excited to see how it would look on a person.

The dress was mid length, with a softly pleated skirt and tight accentuated waist. It was a more casual dress verses some of the others Mitsuya had made, most of them being wedding dresses. The elegance from his previous works carried over, the embroidery on the chest and waist was proof of his friend's skill. He examined the corset and gently pulled on the lacing making (Name) gasp. Mitsuya looked up at him concern in his eyes.

"Too tight?" (Name) shook his head.

"No, I'm okay." Mitsuya nodded and finished tying it off, quietly observing his friend a calm yet giddy expression on his face.

There was a knock on the door followed by the door opening, a pretty man almost as tall as the door stepped in, wearing a golden dangly earring on his left ear. His hair was bleached blond a swirly design shaved into the side of his head. He had a bright smile on his face, a cute scar adorned the left side of his mouth.

"Taka-chan I got the fabric you want-" he cut himself off as his gaze fell on (Name) red immediately dusting is face as he turned to look the other way. His shoulders squaring up as he seemed to shrink into himself. (Name) smiles and waved at him before turning to grab Mitsuya who had his face in his notes trying to see what he wanted to change and keep.

"Hey, Mitsuya. Someone's here to see you." He perked up with a him, his glasses crooked and his hair askew. He nodded with a small smile, stepping out of his office and into his apartments main room. Being met with a short circuiting Hakkai, who had his face hidden from Mitsuya's friend's view.

"Hey Hakkai? You alright man?" Hakkai silently nodded. A shorter girl popped into the apartment a roll of fabric tucked sunder her arm.

"She's too pretty, made him blue screen again." She stated bluntly, gesturing at (Name) who blinked in confusion. He knew people thought he was pretty but to be able to pass as a chick was something else entirely. He and Mitsuya shared a glance before bursting out laughing, surprising Hakkai and Yuzuha.

"He's a guy."

"W-what!?" Hakkai shouted, his face dark red as he had a mini identity crisis. Did he seriously blue screen over a guy? He's a cute guy, but Hakkai hasn't liked a guy like that since highschool. Mitsuya chuckled at his friend and pat him on the back.

"He's pretty cute isn't he?" The silver haired man tested, Hakkai practically went brain dead his face as red as a tomato as he stared at his feet. It's been a long time since someone has made him feel like this.

"Well, Hakkai-kun's pretty cute too, especially when he's all flustered like that." (Name) purred, flopping back on Mitsuya's couch. All that was heard from Hakkai was quiet whining as he hid his face, flustered and humiliated. Yuzuha burst out laughing at her brother's misery, smiling cheekily.

"Why not take him on a date? You seriously need a partner, I can't keep taking care of you." He rubbed his face and glared at his sister and friend.

"You guys are so mean!" He whined, (Name) giggled making Hakkai tense up and glance back at him.

"Alright, stop teasing him so much," Hakkai sighed in relief who knew his problem could be the thing saving him?

"Can't have him having a heart attack before I take him on a date~" (Name) crooned, stepping closer to Hakkai, who was melting at the closeness.

"Oh god- what have I gotten myself into..." Hakkai whispered into his hands, making everyone laugh.

"Well, if you aren't dead by the time Mitsuya's done with me and this dress. I'll be taking you on a date, if you're free." All Hakkai could door was nod, trying to find a way to calm down his burning face.

Months later Hakkai learned that (Name) was actually just as easy to tease as he is, all it took was one compliment before (Name) could even speak to make him blue screen. So despite them going on casual dates frequently, they were both flustered messes the entire god damn time. Mitsuya and Yuzuha couldn't tell if it was adorable or annoying.

#male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #hakkai shiba #hakkai x male reader #hakkai x reader #hakkai fluff

[ilovewriting06]

Dr Mike is 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Gynae checkup w him where he eats you out to show you how lovely you are down there and it’s all just your insecurity. Thanks !

Disclaimer: I have never been to a gynecologist, yet, I’ve managed to avoid them this long but alas that will not last forever *sigh* anyways if this is not accurate I apologize.

I hate these days, the days I go to the gynecologist. Don’t get me wrong my doctor, he’s hot as fuck but the thought of my vagina being out on display sends my anxiety and insecurities into overdrive. I’ve always been insecure of my lady bits, from ex boyfriends and just general insecurities I’m terrified that I smell or I look different. I know it’s stupid and there is no use in being worried about any of this because everyone is different but moving and getting a different gynecologist raised a new fear, being turned on during the checkup. I’ve been lucky enough that he hasn’t noticed or he just hasn’t said anything but I pray to God he doesn’t notice. I tap my foot anxiously as I look around the waiting room feeling my heart pounding against my ribs. I jump up when I hear my name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

I stand up as I pick at my nails and follow the nurse I’ve learned is named Jill, back to room three. When I get seated on the table I cross my ankles and tap my thumbs on my thighs as Jill politely asks me to uncross my legs and sit still so she can check my blood pressure and heart rate.

Once done she exits the room with a small smile , “Dr. Varshavski will be in shortly, so go ahead and change.”

I smile an awkward smile as she leaves and once the doors closed I hope off of the table and quickly replace my jeans and t-shirt with the gown they provided before hoping back up on the table and texting my best friend, Y/B/F/N, ‘I’m so nervous!’ My phone instantly chimes, ‘Y/N/N, relax you’ll only make it worse if you get all anxious if anything you’re lucky.’ I roll my eyes before typing, ‘How the hell am I lucky??’

Before I get an answer there’s a light knock on the door before Dr. Mike comes in with a bright smile, “Hello, Y/N, how are you doing today?”

I inwardly roll my eyes at his happy attitude but also melt a little at how cute he looks, “Ehh, I hate the gynecologist.”

He puts a hand to his heart with a gasp, “Ouch!”

I smile finding it odd how he can calm me down without even trying, “That’s not what I meant, I love the gynecologist but hate what the visit entails.”

He smirks a small mischievous smile while raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms, goddamn it should illegal to wear such tight clothes with that much muscle, “Oh ho ho, you love your gynecologist, well, I’m flattered.”

I blush a deep shade of red as he sits on the wheelie stool and looks over the paperwork the nurse had just done before furrowing his eyebrows and looking at me, “Your heart rate is noticeably faster than it should be.” With that he stands and starts feeling my forehead and pulling back before grabbing his stethoscope as he asks, “Are you flushed or nervous about something?”

I look sideways as my blush deepens and he places the stethoscope over my heart increasing it’s speed by his proximity to me, “N-no, well yes, kind of, you make me nervous.”

He steps back and looks confused and a little hurt, “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

I maintain my blush as I look into his dreamy blue eyes before muttering, “It’s good, it’s a good thing.”

He smiles when my phone chimes and out of instinct he glances at my phone and then at me with a smirk and a slight blush. I look confused until I see my text, holy fucking shit she just outed me. Right there on my front screen was a text from Y/B/F/N, ‘Girl you’ve had a thing for that man for ages and you know for a fact you love having him in between your legs, maybe just wish there was a little more mouth action but you know what I mean.’

My mouth went dry before I looked at Dr. Mike with a tomato red face and stomach twisted in knots. I opened and closed my mouth as he sat back down on his stool and looked at me with a quirked brow, the only thing I managed to get out was, “Oh my God I’m going to kill her.” I look up as Mike cleared his throat and saying, “Well, I would very much say you being nervous is a good thing, for me anyways.”

I blink my eyes twice before cocking my head to the side like I imagine Bear would as he stands up and walks towards me, “As someone who has very much had unprofessional thoughts about you while doing an examination and not doing an examination it’s good to know the feeling me are mutual.”

I blush before choking out, “W-what?”

He smiles, “I’ve wanted to ask you out for months but I was worried you would think I was being unprofessional.”

I shake my head, “No! No, it’s not unprofessional.” He smiled before saying, “Well in that case would you like to go to dinner with me?” I nod enthusiastically, “I would love to.” He walks closer to me so that his thighs are brushing against my knees before saying, “Lay down.” I furrow my eyebrows but do as he said and watch as he disappears from sight because of the way my knees were positioned. I let out a screech as I feel his nose rub against my center. He pops up from his position and chuckles, “Shhh, I could get fired for this.” He stops a second before looking at me, “Do you want me to stop?” I shake my head before all but yelling no. He chuckles before disappearing and licking a strip up my center. I bite my lip to stop from moaning and grab onto the sides of the examination table as my legs shook. As he repositioned my legs so they were hanging off the table and I could now see him I grabbed his hair and pulled. I felt him moan against me and smirked promising to remember this before I bite my tongue to stop a scream as he grazes my clit with his teeth. For fucks sake this man is talented with his mouth.

Seconds later my legs are shaking around his head before clamping down as I climaxed, throwing my head back in a silent scream.

When he was down he sat up and wiped his hand across his chin as he walked back to the desk. When he sat down he started writing on his papers while saying, “As far as I can tell everything looks good and there’s no odor,” he pauses a minute before looking at me with a smirk, “And it tastes amazing.” I blush fifty shades of red as he finished up his paperwork. He stands up to exit the room but he stops and looks at me, “Can I get your number? I was thinking about getting dinner Friday night.” I smile as I take the pen from his hand and write my number on the inside of his forearm, “That sounds lovely, I’ll be expecting your call, or text.”

He smiles a wide smile before walking out the door. I turn around to get dressed and go home when I realize I still have his pen. I open to door to try and catch him but he’s gone. I shrug my shoulders and smile as I think, oh well I’ll give it to him Friday.

#dr mike #doctor mike #mikhail #mikhail varshavski #smut #requests #dr mike x reader #mikhail varshavski x reader

[leupagus]

I feel like Harris Burdick with all these plot ideas that I have to get around to actually, you know, writing in full

Anyway this one's got a tentative title of "Gonna Get Up Out The Ground," inspired in part by this post (and my rumination that there really SHOULD be some undead Hardy AUs out there).

-

The first time Ellie met Hardy was in a dream.

They'd been in Florida just a few days; she'd already gotten horribly sunburnt on her shoulders and Tom was one great tomato, but fortunately a sympathetic hotel worker had brought them a great big bottle of aloe vera and now they were enjoying some truly brain-rotting television while Joe and Fred were tramping about on the beach, responsibly sun-screened. 

At some point she must have nodded off because she woke up on quite a different beach — a beach she knew as well as her own heart, with the same sure rhythm. There was no one about but she wasn't lonely, or even alone; somewhere nearby, she knew, was the person she was looking for.

She wandered slowly up the Lesser Cliff Trail up to the old campsite, long since abandoned except for a half-dozen old campfire rings, lined with stones and forgotten. She walked to the edge and breathed in, the salt and cold filling her lungs with their familiar, comfortable sting. Along the edge, thousands of sea thrift blossoms nodded dreamily in the wind, pink and white against the green and blue.

"Took your time," said a voice behind her; she turned and squinted against the sun (the sun? it never shone from that direction, not like that, dull and heavy against the hills). He was a young man, late twenties, all gangling limbs with a flop of red-brown hair falling into his eyes and a ready smile. "But then I could never get the hang of time zones."

"You're five hours ahead," she told him, with that vague confidence you always have when you're dreaming. "It's only…" She tried to concentrate, but the numbers slipped like eels out of her grasp.

"Never mind," said the man. "It's still early, anyway — might not happen. And you're not the one, I'm sure of that at least." His smile took out whatever sting there might've been in the words. He had freckles along his cheeks and soft brown eyes, the sort she'd thought of as kind. "Don't be too angry at me, Miller. A bit is fine, though." And with another smile, he pushed her gently off the cliff.

She woke up with a start; Joe snorted in his sleep and rolled away from her, and she blinked away the dazzle of the sun in the shifting darkness of the hotel room. She shifted onto her other side, glancing over at the boys sleeping in the other bed and the crib, and was about to close her eyes again when something poked her in the neck.

It was a sprig of sea-thrift, still cold and damp.

-

The next time she met him was a shock — even over the horrified grief over seeing poor Danny, beautiful little man that he'd been, flung down like so much rubbish. At first she hardly registered, but when he held out his hand and gave his name, she looked at him — really looked.

"I know," she said, meaning to make some cutting remark about how he'd stolen her promotion. But instead what came out was, "You were five hours ahead."

He dropped his hand, looking tired. Looking more than tired; he resembled a corpse as much as the frail little body at their feet. Gone was the cheerful youth; he was old, even older than DI Charlford, with sick-pale skin and bruises under his eyes. His clothes hung off of him as though hiding nothing more than a skeleton underneath. "Do you want to do that here?" he asked, as though it made no difference to him.

"No," she decided. "But — later."

"Aye, fine," he sighed, just as Ellie heard, with the sinking remains of her heart, the shouted demands of Beth, growing closer.

-

Much later, he told her he'd been as shocked to see her that morning as she'd been to see him. "You'd been in my dreams a long time," he told her, spitting dirt and gravel out onto the grass. "I'd given up on you being real."

It was just gone seven in the morning — apparently all that nonsense about needing to wait until midnight on a new moon was just that — and Ellie'd been waiting for almost two hours, bundled up in a blanket from her car boot and sitting on a nearby tombstone. Hardy's grave, less than a day old, was marked by nothing more than the mound of dirt and a few sea-thrift flowers, which annoyed Hardy every time but which was, objectively, hilarious.

"How was I in your dreams and I only saw you the once before we met?" she demanded, handing him a water bottle. He took it and took a draught, spitting it out as well. Ellie made a face; this was the third time she'd watched this and it hadn't got less disgusting. He caught her expression and scowled.

"I didn't ask you to come," he reminded her, pouring some of the water into his palm and wiping at his face.

"No, you didn't. Are you going to answer the question?"

He took another drink, this time swallowing. "We'd better push on," he said, shaking the dirt from his trouser cuffs, and headed toward the carpark.

Rolling her eyes, Ellie chased after him. "Just don't get in before I put a tarp down or something," she said. "And by the way, not to say I told you so—"

"You're about to say 'I told you so,' I sense—"

"But I did warn you about Cooper and his temper."

"You didn't warn me he'd stab me with garden shears," Hardy grumped as he opened the gate for her.

"No, that bit surprised me," she admitted. "I did arrest him, but I'll be honest, I'm not sure what to charge him with. Murder seems a bit harsh, considering," and she waved vaguely. "You know."

"Attempted murder?" Hardy offered. "No one's ever tried to kill me before. Don't," he added, as she opened her mouth. "Just drive me home so I can change."

"Resurrection makes you really grumpy, you know that?"

"Maybe I should try coffee, always does wonders for your personality."

#apparently there's no scotland-specific (or even uk-specific???) zombie folktales #which actually makes sense since Hardy's just going to glare at people when they ask exactly what kind of undead he is #but he's definitely the kind that can get into your dreams and can't be killed and annoys wonderful women who don't deserve this #broadchurch motherfuckers

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Punk Princess

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3 (Next Part) |Part 4| Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9 | Part 10

Eddie really was just trying to get through the day unnoticed by Tommy and his goons. He’d been prepared to spend his second senior year with his head down and his eyes on the graduation prize. So when he heard whispers through the halls about some ‘freak’ he felt dread coil in his stomach. He hasn’t even done anything yet, it was the first day of classes for shit sake and he’d been late getting in. 

So when he was scurrying around the halls trying to find a pen in his backpack, glancing up at Tommy’s voice and spotting a literal punk god with Robin Buckley hanging off his arm he was a little surprised. But when his eyes tracked over the body of the other boy, he’s pretty sure his brain completely just turned off when he caught a glimpse of the face attached to the body. 

Steve fucking Harrington in all his glory was wearing a cropped mesh top, and what looked to be a black battle vest. But that wasn’t the end of what the fuck was happening because his hair was shaved on the sides and his face, Jesus Christ his face, was painted with a black charcoal around his pretty brown eyes, and fuck was that a piercing in his lip? In his eyebrow?? 

Hold the fuck on is that a hanky in his back pocket?

Eddie’s pretty sure he made some kind of noise as he stumbled and spilled the contents of his backpack over the hall floors, scrambling to pick it all up while his eyes were still locked firmly on Steve. 

He’s pretty sure Tommy had said something towards him at that point but his brain hadn’t even fully booted back up when he watched a determined look coat Steve’s face as he drew the other guys attention back to himself. Eddie couldn’t stop the noise he made at that pretty sure his entire face was tomato red now as Steve shot him a soft smile.

“They’re called shit kickers.” Steve offers, catching Tommy’s gaze. “Wanna find out why?”

And for fucks sake, no one, no one should look that attractive stating they were going to basically kick someone's face in, but Eddies pretty sure he just completely blue screened because the next time he was even aware he had a body, Gareth was pulling him away from the scene where a teacher had at some point stepped in. 

Eddie noted with disappointment that it looked like Steve hadn’t gotten to give Tommy a demonstration after all.

“Eddie..” The tone Gareth took was a long cultivated one, used specifically when Steve Harrington was involved, and Eddie cringed before smoothing out his expression, he was prepared to go on a long winded rant about how jocks were apparently stealing the looks outcasts had spent years creating and getting ridiculed for.

He knows that's what he was going to say.

“Holy shit Gareth I want to get down on my knees and worship that man.” Is what ends up coming out, and Gareth’s face does a weird mix of disgusted and unsurprised, his brows twisting together.

“Christ Eddie.”

“Did you see him Gareth? I’m pretty sure my brain had to do a full reboot.” Just as they were rounding the corner to their shared first period class, Eddie's feet stopped working and he stumbled roughly into a very firm back. The head attached to said back turned around slightly with a startled expression that turned into a smirk and honestly Eddie shouldn’t be surprised his brain goes offline again, because holy fuck.

“You sure do trip a lot, Munson.” Steve's voice comes out with a well practiced boredness to it that should be insulting, if it wasn’t for the playful twinkle in his eyes as he turns around and faces Eddie, who’s being manhandled to standing back up straight by Gareth. Eddie can feel the snarky, playful reply on the tip of his tongue, his whole body alight with the fact that finally, finally for the first time Steve is talking to him. Eddie is only slightly ashamed to admit that he’d spent a few sleepless nights imagining what he would say if he ever got to talk to Steve. So subtle flirting is what he’s prepared and ready to throw out at him. 

“Only if I can lick those boots.” Is what comes out instead. Eddie is pretty sure he feels his face explode, because what the hell?? Fucking get on the same page he shoots the thought to his brain and mouth filter as he pulls a chunk of hair up to cover his face. Steve looks startled for a second, before a slow devilish smile spreads across his face.

“I’m more into being the one that does the boot licking, but I’ll keep that in mind, babe.”

Eddies pretty sure he goes into cardiac arrest right there in the hallway.

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3 (Next Part) | Part 4| Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9 | Part 10

#Punk!Steve #Punk Steve #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steddie fic #Gareth is a good friend if not a little done with Eddies shit #God this is so fun to write #Punk Princess fic

[castieldelamancha]

Sam's constant rambling about the case, the victims, the monster and the salad he is going to get for dinner is just a distant white noise in the background.

Dean is going to regret not paying attention once he has to ask Sam to repeat all of this later on, because he isn't really eager to get a bitchface and a lecture. But, oh well.

He just can't help being distracted by the sight in front of him.

Sitting at the table, facing Sam but focused intently on Dean's laptop, Cas listens closely, nimble fingers moving across the keyboard as he nods along to whatever Sam is saying. He looks otherworldly, sitting there by the window, the weak sunlight that fights to shine through stormy, heavy, gray clouds, framing his handsome profile and surrounding him with a glowy halo, a distant echo of the one he has lost forever; his hair a mess, the sleeves of the flannel he is wearing rolled up to his elbows, showing his strong forearms and the last tattoo he got just a couple days ago. A bird in flight, full of movement and freedom.

Dean bought the flannel for him, green, because it suits him. Green because Cas once said it's his favorite color.

Dean nods along when Sam asks if he wants a sandwich before leaving to get their dinner.

Castiel stops typing, as soon as the door closes, but his eyes remain focused on the screen before him.

"I thought you said staring was a rude thing to do, Dean." There is no real heat or annoyance behind his words, if only there is a hint of amusement in his voice, a spark of mirth in his beautiful blue eyes, a subtle smirk on his lips.

Dean huffs, cheeks heated, the tips of his ears turning red too. "I was just thinking," he replies, lamely, " I'm sure you've listened enough for the both of us anyway." He adds.

Castiel hums nonchalantly at the last part, "you were listening, right?" Dean asks, frantically. "Because if I have to ask him again I won't hear the end of it."

"Yes, of course, unless you want to know about the salad, I stopped listening there."

Dean laughs quietly.

"I can't divide my attention between more than one task as well as I used to," Castiel continues, "I guessed it was best to put my abilities to use on our investigation, not on helping Sam decide what kind of tomatoes are better to go with a certain type of cheese, like that would make a difference." Castiel rolls his eyes.

Now Dean's laughter is louder, filling the room and making Castiel smile lovingly at him.

"Okay, okay, good."

"What were you thinking about?" Castiel's tone is now curious, he sighs tiredly and closes the laptop, rubbing his eyes. He gets up and stretches with his eyes closed, breathing deeply in that yoga style way he has learned on his own and that he has taught Dean about too, to help him cope with his late night nightmares. Effective, yeah, but not as much as simply turning around and letting Cas' arms surround him.

Dean watches him, enthralled, from where he is sitting at the edge of the creaking old bed and raises his arm, offering his hand to Cas, wordlessly asking him to come closer.

Castiel steps closer, taking Dean's hand with his and letting him pull him even closer, until he is standing between his legs, looking down at him.

Castiel's free hand closes over his cheek, he bends down, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead, peace and warm wash over him.

"This,"Dean whispers, "I was thinking about this." This closeness, this simple touches, this easy intimacy. He feels Castiel's smile against his forehead and a grin graces his own lips.

#destiel #vanessa writes ✨ #ficlet #fluff #right in front of sammy's hypothetical salad :( #human!cas