#I desire a reading nook. If there is a God out there please let me live my Penelope Featherington dreams!

[rotnread]

Women yearn to return to the cave

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Little Earthquakes - An Original Story.

So, besties. I thought I'd test the waters with the prologue to my new story. I know so many of you aren't here for originals, but I can but hope I'll find a few readers. Nothing would delight me more! Now, let's get to introducing you to the new world and people within it! I've tagged a few people who I thought might be interested, but if not, no worries.

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 2,831

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Minors DNI!

Prologue.

In every year group of every school the world over, there is always the girl. She’s the one whom other girls covet to be like, and pretty much all of the boys want to get with. In the year eleven group of Fulham Green Academy, west London, back in two thousand and five, that girl had been Holly Madden.  

She was popular, kind, proficient academically, and god, she was beautiful. Holly was also the girl one of her classmates would have asked out in a heartbeat, had Nathan ever been able to sum up the courage to open his mouth and speak to her. Various other factors prevented such, too, namely that they socialised in two vastly different groups at their mixed senior school. She was one of the popular girls, after all, and Nathan one of the alternative kids.  

The two groups seldom mixed.  

That was until one night when Lee Harris, the kid who loved everybody regardless of what social group they slotted into, threw a large end of term party. It was a classic example of ‘my parents are on holiday, I’m not, everybody come over!’ that led to much teenage abandon and hedonistic excess. Especially if your name was Nathan Gill.  

The only difference? He hadn’t actually wanted to end up in the state he had. Not at all. Enter one Chris Lawrence and a tray full of weed-infused brownies. 

“This tastes weird,” Nathan announced, yet for the kid with a massive disposition for demolishing anything chocolatey, it still hadn’t stopped him from consuming it. 

Chris didn’t know how the hell he managed to stop himself from falling apart laughing, standing with their cohort Kelsey, both playing captive audience to the mild deception of their friend. “Does it? Can’t think why, blud.” 

“Yeah.” He then paused in chewing the last mouthful, watching his friends carefully. “Why are you’s staring at me?”  

“No reason,” Kelsey chimed, clapping a hand to his shoulder, almost able to hear his brain ticking away within his skull. 

“Have you put something in this?” The two snorts of laughter were confirmation that yes, they very much had. “Oh, shit off! Nah man, that’s proper messed up.”  

His friends howled, watching a very disgruntled Nathan deal with the confirmation that he had indeed been doped. Chris reached for him, ruffling his hair. “Bruv, it’s only a bit of ganja, yeah?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t pissing smoke weed, do I?” 

“And you still haven’t,” Chris chimed. “You’ve ate it!” 

The pout on his face had his friends furtherly descending. “Don’t like being stoned though, do I? That’s why I don’t have nothing to fucking do with the cheeba!” Getting a rise out of the usually very chilled, very zen Nathan was half the fun of it. Seeing him stoned off his balls was the other, Nathan still furious as he finished the remainer of his can of Carlsberg. “I’m not talking to either of you’s.” 

How right he was, for when it kicked in, speech was beyond him completely. 

“Nath, you alright, mate?” Lee, the party host asked an hour later, finding Nathan sitting at the kitchen nook with a pad of paper and a pen. A note was scrawled. 

“Yeah, just can’t speak. Too mashed. Got spiked via cake.” 

Reading the words, he began to laugh. “Ahhh, the pot brownies? Nice!” More scribbling followed. 

“Not nice! I don’t like weed!” 

To Lee’s credit, he held in the desire to piss himself laughing at his mate’s anguish.  

“Oh, right! You want a coffee or something? My mum has the fancy machine so I’ll make you one if you want?” 

“No thanks. Just wanna throw Chris and Kels into a pissing landfill!” 

He boomed with laughter, shaking his head. “Well, I best be moving along, got to do the mingling thing. Later mate!” 

“Bye.”  

He was left alone then, except for the glances from across the kitchen from Kelsey, who was trying her luck chatting up one of the sixth form girls while keeping a watchful eye on him. That suited him fine, not actually able to speak anyway, sitting there feeling very, very high. It was a different high to smoking it, he had to confess, but he still didn’t like it much.  

He felt very fuzzy around the edges, his vision faltering a little bit, but not so much that he couldn’t make out the face of the girl he fancied when she approached him half an hour later. Oh, god. Why Holly Madden? Why now? 

Sitting down in the nook adjacent to him, her smile glowed. “Hi, Nathan. You okay?” He turned the pad of paper to her and pointed to the first statement he’d written to Lee, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “Ohhhh, not one for weed then, no?” 

“Bingo.” 

“Do you want me to leave you be, or can I kotch here? I need a time out, too many drunk people.” 

He scribbled, feeling his heart racing. Holly Madden wanted to sit with him. Him! 

“That’s fine, but I’ll be on mute for the foreseeable.”  

Shrugging, she smiled, a smile that made his heart skip. “That’s fine. I’m not really into loud people. Even when you’re talking you seem quiet and chilled. I like that.”  

She’d actually noticed those attributes? Oh, god. It was a good job he couldn’t speak, because if he could he’d have likely ballsed it up spectacularly. Then again, it wasn’t surprising. Holly was very much like the party host in the fact she was open to mingling with everyone, regardless of her status as one of the popular girls. “So, I noticed your display board for the examiners before we broke up. That charcoal you did of the snake was incredible!” 

They’d been in the same art group as well as form class at school, submitting their final presentation to the exam board in the shape of a display of their work, which made up half of their GSCE grade. Nathan nodded, taking the pen and scribbling out a note.  

“Thanks. I was proud of that one. Loved your stuff, too.”  

She was sure he was just being polite since their artistic styles so vastly differed, but thanked him for the compliment anyway. “I’m crapping myself about the results. I really, really want to get in at UAL. Are you thinking uni, too, or something else?” 

Again, he began to write. “Yeah, uni. Loughborough, I wanna get out of London for a few years.” 

It was a good university, showing clearly that he had a lot of ambition. Sitting there, Holly began to feel a little uncomfortable, the manor of communication strange in the fact he couldn’t actually speak. Also, she felt shy. He had no idea how fucking cute he was, which was an odd feeling to experience, being that he was the furthest from her usual taste in guys.  

“Well, I’m going to head back to my friends. If you regain the power of speech, come find me.” 

Come find her? She actually wanted him to come and find her? While his brain flew into a panic, his note was calm and succinct.  

“Alright. Bye, Holly.” Whether or not he could, he knew that he wouldn’t, though, waiting until she’d left the kitchen before groaning and pulling his hood up over his head as he slumped down, wanting to hide. Oh, the shame of it. Too stoned to talk to the girl he liked when the opportunity to do so had landed right in his lap, and he’d blown it.  

Fuck Chris. Fuck Kelsey.  

He had to hand it to the latter, though. At midnight when they’d left, she’d been the one to carry him over her shoulder into the waiting taxi when he’d found he was without the use of his legs as well as his voice. Thank goodness she was a big girl, just a little shorter than him at six feet to his six feet two, and built like an ox.  

She’d also carried him safely up the stairs and into her bed, stripping his skate trainers and jeans before climbing in herself, definitely worse for wear. Being very much out in her status as a lesbian, her parents didn’t give two hoots about her sharing a bed with male friends at all, knowing there was more chance of hell freezing over than any sexual shenanigans occurring between them.  

Not that either of them had ever tiptoed out of virgin territory at that point in their lives. As he fell asleep, Nathan kicked himself that the girl he very much would have liked to change that with had been the one he couldn’t even speak to, and now it was too late. He’d likely never cross paths with the beautiful Holly Madden again now they’d left school. 

He was partly right there, their lives leading them in very different directions for many years after that night. Nineteen, to be exact. While she had never left London, Nathan had been to Loughborough, lived up in Edinburgh for a few years, gone over to spend time in Dublin, living a very carefree existence as a freelance tattoo artist who travelled from shop to shop. 

Life was everything he’d ever wanted it to be, and he all but forgot about Holly completely. 

Arriving back in London at twenty-seven, he’d met a girl, deciding to set up permanent roots in the city again. He and Lisa had married a year later, and a few months after that he, Kelsey and Chris had all gone into business together. The three had coveted to work in the tattoo world since their time at school, Nathan the only one who had gotten an apprenticeship and done it right out of leaving university.  

Kelsey had tired of the monotony of managing bars, and Chris was more than fed up of work in retail, so both had moved into their chosen field finally six and three years before, respectively. In two thousand and seventeen, Carpe Diem had opened its doors on Sailsbury Road, Queen’s Park.  

It was truly wonderful, the three best friends all reunited and running a thriving business together. Until the day where things started to go awry for one of them finally came along.  

“Kels, why you hovering, blud?” Chris asked, glad to be coming to the end of a lot of linework on the full backpiece he was starting on his client that afternoon. Pausing to reload ink, he raised an eyebrow, looking to the back of the shop as Kelsey listened in at the door of the private room used for clients receiving a body piercing.  

Craning her ears, she could hear it just above the sound of music playing, the band Soundgarden’s classic Black Hole Sun muffling the other noise emanating. Well, unless you listened closely, like her. With widened eyes, she moved away rapidly, shaking her head with her hands held out wide. 

“Oh, no, no, no.”  

Chris was perplexed. “What?” 

Jerking her thumb, she mouthed her reply, lest the client on the table before him hear what she’d had to. “He’s shagging in there.”  

His eyes all but fell out onto the hardwood floor beneath his feet. “Fuck off!” he mouthed back. 

“I’m serious!” she hissed in whisper, waving a pointed finger towards the back of the shop rapidly before beginning to clean down her station, ready and fresh for her next client. It wasn’t so much that he was a married man shagging somebody who wasn’t his wife, since he and Lisa were recently separated, it was the lack of professionalism to be doing it at his place of business with the girl whose navel he’d just pierced that shocked his friends more than anything.  

It would be fair to say he hadn’t quite been right since his marriage had come to an end. If either was truly honest, his behaviour had been very decidedly unlike the Nathan they knew and loved for much longer. Shagging around now that he was separated was one thing, but doing such with a client right there in the shop, though, was quite another. People talked, after all.  

Kelsey stewed on it as she continued cleaning her station, not wanting his reputation as one of the most talented tattoo artists in the city to become besmirched by such, or the good name of the shop to suffer either. After all, it wasn’t solely his livelihood this kind of behaviour could affect.  

Five minutes later and the door opened, the girl walking out before Nathan, who moved to the sales desk and took her payment for the piercing. With Chris’s client also now out the door, the two artists turned to their friend, the latter shaking his head. 

“Who’s been a bad lad then, ay?” 

Nathan didn’t have a poker face for the life of him, yet still, he tried. “What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Kelsey stated, pointing at him. “Can’t fool us. I know sex moaning when I hear it, no matter how quiet. Listen, you wanna sow your oats now you and Lisa have split, go ahead. But not in the bloody shop, Nath!”  

He shrugged. “Weren’t like I was being that loud.” He then turned to Chris, mischief broadening his grin. “Had to cup my hand over her mouth. Poor girl ain’t ever had a pierced dick before, bruv.”  

His friend wanted to be supportive to Kelsey’s very real concerns, but the lad in him won out. “Fuckin’ a, blud! Little randy bastard, ay?”  

He held out his fist, Nathan bumping it as he chuckled filthily. “I’m a free man again, and shit, can you blame me? Proper gorgeous, she was.”  

“For the love of the virgin Mary’s knicker elastic!” Kelsey cried, placing her hands on her hips. “Can we take this seriously and set a rule? No shagging in the bloody shop!!”  

Nathan moved to her, grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her head. Immediately, she was aghast. “Don’t you kiss me! I don’t know where your mouth was ten minutes ago. I don’t want any miscellaneous fanny juice on my face!” 

“Never thought those words would ever leave your mouth, ay,” Chris interjected with on a snort. 

Nathan all but broke apart in hysterics completely at them, wrapping Kelsey in a big, tight hug. “You’re safe, didn’t have time for that. But chill out, ‘kay? Nothing to stress about, Kels. Just a one off.”  

Being held close by her friend, there was something else amiss, she noted. Or rather smelled. Nathan usually reeked of nothing but Fahrenheit aftershave, his staple scent since his teen years. Now though, it was tinged with the smell of alcohol. “You been drinking?” 

Letting her go, he shrugged, moving to begin sorting inks over at the storage shelves, knowing they needed to re-order. “Had a few last night. Probably sweating it out.”  

She left it there, but truly, she didn’t believe a word of it. It smelled fresh, not that stale, boozy sweat stink people suffered after a night on the piss. Also, he showered twice a day religiously. Besides, to her knowledge, he hadn’t even gone out the night before. She’d left him there at the shop at ten the previous evening, Nathan locking up before heading upstairs to the tiny flat above, where he was now living after Lisa had kicked him out.  

It was conflicting, because Nathan wasn’t a liar either, Kelsey doubting herself a little as she welcomed her next client, a guy who was having the side of his neck finished off by her that afternoon. All thoughts of her friend and his slightly off behaviour were put aside, concentrating one hundred percent on her task at hand.  

As for Nathan, he moved to his book of line drawings, taking the relevant one out and placing it on the light box to make sure he was one hundred percent happy with it. He prided himself on giving his clients the very best of his work. The young woman whose navel he’d pierced could definitely testify to that after the repeated push of his cock piercing against her g spot had made her come so hard, she’d almost passed out.  

He smirked as he thought about her, noting that she was the first girl he’d ever fucked whose name he neither knew nor cared to know. For a man who didn’t really do sleeping around even before he was married, it made an exciting change now he was free from the bitch who he’d wasted the last seven years with.  

“Hi, I’ve got an appointment with Nathan?” 

Turning around, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was. “Erm, yeah. Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Holly.” 

He would have been lying if he’d claimed to have given his old school crush much thought in the nineteen years that had passed, but seeing her standing there, suddenly he felt just as he had at fifteen all over again. 

[jailforwriter]

Hey, good lookin'!

Greetings and salutations, fellow word-arranger! I see that you also enjoy the art of reshuffling letters until they spell out cool stuff. That sounds like a pretty solid basis for a friendship, hmm...

This is a little nook for all things writing! It covers everything from tips and book reviews to the very backbone of society (memes, duh). The aim here is to build a nice community and foster friendships and support and all of that good stuff. Writing can be pretty lonely, so let's make it a little less so!

About me

Hey, I'm Alai. I'm a queer Venezuelan girly, mid-20's, looking to become more active in the writeblr community. Some of my other interests include philosophy, Greek mythology, all sciences (I have an Honors degree in Laboratory Medicine!) and everything to do with the Classics.

My focus is on fantasy and queer romance, but I'm open to all sorts of genres and do very much read other stuff on the reg. Also really into Sci-Fi, Thrillers, Horror and Literary Fiction.

Most of my work is novel-centric, but I also love reading short stories and poetry and cannot resist a good out context quote lol.

Lover of all things character-driven and morally ambiguous, pyrrhic victories, interpersonal drama, tragic losers doomed by the narrative, and the liberal use of Catholic Guilt™️ as literary garnish.

I'm an only child who once heard that sharing is caring, so please hit me with your best WIP and let's chat about it! We can even hold each other (accountable so we can get it DONE).

WIPs

The Paradox of Nonchoice (Adult Fantasy/Romance)

Summary: Nahia is an angel who, after years of studying human culture and behavior in the heavenly realm of Zion, is finally sent to Earth on her first assignment: to grant the deepest desire of the first person she meets. With the support of her mentor and sisters, along with a promise to reunite with her mother should she succeed, the stage is set for God's newest angel to carry out His word. However, when Nahia learns that her ward – a disillusioned handywoman by the name of Rory – wants something she isn't altogether prepared to give, the indentured angel must decide whose orders to follow: if God's, or her heart's. Note: there's a TON more to this plot, I promise!! But unfortunately, any particulars I may give would constitute an absolutely gargantuan spoiler lol. Tropes: soulmates, forced proximity (kinda if you squint), co-workers to lovers (squint a bit more just trust me lmao), absolutely rancid sibling dynamics, mommy issues, daddy issues, crisis of faith, Everything Is A Lie Nothing Is Sacred, loser women cringefailing, "ah, you're one of them queers", The Catholic Church. TWs: religious trauma, suicide, violence, blood, slight body horror, France (mentioned).

Will be looking for betas and feedback very soon, so please stay tuned! Updates to come on this blog. If anyone's at all interested, any sort of engagement would be very welcomed and appreciated :)

Happy writing!

[theharrowing]

Hope for the Holidays | Teaser

Meeting someone extraordinary and deciding to leave your partner of three years wasn’t quite what you had in mind for the holiday season, but life rarely goes as planned, does it?

❄ Hoseok x Non-binary (AFAB) Reader

❄ teaser word count: 2k

❄ strangers to lovers, chance encounters, angst, teaser is swf.

❄ fic warnings: emotional infidelity, breaking up, moving on, hurt/comfort, eventual explicit smut, feeling displaced and alone for the holidays, falling out of love, falling in love, lots of other complicated feelings, some fluff if i'm generous.

❆ part of a hyung holiday collab! coming in december to a dash near you!

❄ banner by @haliiimede​!

❄ i am very excited to drop this story alongside others by @gimmethatagustd, @haliiimede & @here2bbtstrash! lots to look forward to!

With each buzz of your cell phone, you take a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to steel yourself. You already know what to expect, and this is not the conversation you want to be having on this bright—albeit frigid—Wednesday afternoon. 

You answer the call and do your best not to sound too scared as you say, “Hey, Ash!” in a practiced, bright tone.

They sigh, which sends a pang of anxiety to your guts, and you squeeze your eyes closed, turning from the sun that suddenly shines far too brightly into your reading nook. 

“Baby! Hey! I miss your voice, oh my god.”

Their chipper tone brings you a hint of relief, and you smile in an effort to keep your voice smiling, as well. “I miss you too. How is everything? How are the parents?”

“Parents are good,” they respond, sounding a bit out of breath. “Dad and I just took a little hike around the land, and mom’s been cooking up a storm! They’re both stoked to see you. Any, uh…any word on that?”

Of course, Ash would jump straight to the point. You feel like mold in a petri dish, ready for examination. 

“I, uh…” you cringe. “No. No, I haven’t been able to find any good prices, and—“

Ash sighs—heavy, exasperated. “Baby, please just let us chip in,” they mutter quietly, as if to hide their words from eavesdroppers. “It’s fine, they want to help—“

“I don’t want that, Ash,” you insist, absolutely unwilling to let their parents send you any money. “Look, I’ll keep trying. There’s bound to be a holiday deal, maybe I can cope with a long layover somewhere warm…I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

It’s silent for a beat, and you inhale slowly, count to three, and then let the breath out. 

“It’s okay, baby. If things don’t work out, there’s always next year.”

You hum a weak, “mmhmm,” feeling anxiety pound at your rib cage. 

“At least you got yourself a tree,” Ash says brightly, as if attempting to save the mood. 

You glance around your reading nook, where the large, ornate pine tree would ordinarily stand, finding only pillows and stacks of books. “Yup.”

“Send me a pic! I want to see it!”

Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you do your best to swallow it down. “I w—I will. I haven’t found the perfect topper, yet, so once I do that, I’ll send a pic,” you lie. 

“Alright, well, I have to go. Let me know if you find anything! Mom and dad really miss you!” There’s an insistent bite in Ash’s tone, and you do your best to ignore it. 

“I will, baby," you respond, unable to hide the shake in your voice. "I miss them too.” 

“Bye, I love you!”

With shaky hands, you end the call, and glance around the space. A tree. If you won’t fly out to San Francisco, the least you can do is get yourself a tree. What a bother. 

The thing about living in the middle of a big city and choosing not to own a vehicle—because the public transit is okay enough to get you where you need to go—is that getting large things like an eight-foot fucking pine tree is a bit of a hassle. 

Thankfully, with the internet comes people ready and willing to deliver pretty much anything you could possibly desire, often within the span of several days. 

And that is how you wind up in the crowded foyer of your apartment building, attempting to heave a giant box toward the elevator. As soon as you laid eyes on the thing standing tall beside the mailboxes, you burst out laughing. There is just no fucking way—absolutely ridiculous. 

You probably make it two inches in the correct direction before deciding that this box is not only too tall, but too heavy to get it anywhere else, you sit on the foot of the steps with your head in your hands, running through a list of people you might be able to bribe to help you out, shooting off a few texts starting with folks who live nearby. 

“This is just fucking great,” you mutter under your breath. 

All of this, you’re doing to appease someone who won’t even be here to see the damn tree, just so that you can prove to them that you’re not miserable without them. 

The truth is, this is the first time you’ve really gotten to breathe in months, and having a holiday-tree-free home has been just fine. But that is a thought you do not let yourself dwell on. You and Ash have been together for three years; you have a history. Every relationship has its rough patches. This is simply one of those. And who knows, maybe having the damn tree around will brighten your mood. That is, if you can get it into your apartment.

With a defeated sigh, you bury your face in your hands and let out a heavy exhale. Why is it that the holidays always come with some sort of nonsense? This is truly the cherry on top of a towering nonsense cake. 

You are about to say fuck it and leave the box in the lobby for someone else to claim, when the front door of the building opens, and in comes a large, cold gust of wind and one of the prettiest people you have ever seen. 

They’re tall, wearing a long, tan jacket with fur lining the hood and perfectly framing their face—sharp yet soft, and scrunched in the cutest frown you have ever seen. 

“Shit,” they mutter under their breath in a slightly higher-pitched voice than you expect. “It's cold!”

The pretty stranger meets your eye and gives a wide smile, and if you weren’t already swooning, their heart-shaped lips would have done you in. You sit up straight, beginning to worry that you are in the way of this stranger, and start to shift around on the steps that are effectively blocked by a large box.

"Need some help?" the person asks with an accent that rolls their words ever so slightly. 

You shake your head and mutter, "No, no it's too heavy. I think I'll leave it."

"Leave it here?" the person asks with wide eyes, and you nod your head. 

"Yeah."

They hum and glance around the box, then ask, "Which floor are you on?"

"Three," you respond meekly, hoping that with that information, they will surmise that it is, in fact, too big to get to your door, and that you should leave it out on the street. 

They hum again, then say, "Wait here. Two minutes!" and take off running toward the elevator. 

You stand, holding a hand out while shouting, "Wait, no, it's alright," but as they press the button to close the elevator doors, they smile widely, holding up two fingers, convincing you to stay. 

With a huff, you sit back on the steps and take out your phone. Of course, your traitor friends have not responded to your pleas for assistance, leaving you to wait on some beautiful stranger who left in a flash, just as chaotically as they arrived.

When the elevator dings, you sit up straight and turn toward the sound, and you actually feel disappointed to find someone else walking through the doors and down the hall. They pause to ask if you need help with the box, but the way they stand—chest and shoulders puffed out with a frown on their face—has you certain they are just asking to be polite.

"Nah," you say, shaking your head. "I'm waiting for someone."

They shrug and leave, and that is that. Now, you are some weirdo on the steps with a giant box who has been perceived by not one building tenant, but two, and you are ready to bury a deep, deep hole in the earth where you can go lay down and freeze to death.

Certain that two minutes have passed and the pretty stranger may have just been messing with you, you stand and begin to push the box back toward the front door. They never said what they were going to get; maybe they decided that offering you help was a mistake and that the best thing for them to do is run far away and never show their face on the third floor. You can't say you would blame them.

The elevator dings once more, and you hear the sound of wheels against the shitty linoleum of the foyer. You turn to find your beautiful building-mate standing before you with a layer of clothing shed, and a dolly in their hand. How and why they even have that device is beyond you, and you nearly cry when they wheel it up and stop it just before the box.

With an eyebrow raised, they say, "You were pushing it to the door, weren't you?" in a teasing tone.

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you give a sheepish glance, saying, "Noooo..." sarcastically. 

"Here," they offer, pointing the dolly at you to hold onto, and you walk around them to take the handles, which come up to your ribs, holding it in place while they wiggle the box onto the rectangular base on the bottom, which sits between two large wheels. Then, they come back around and hold out their hands, muttering, "I got this," so you step aside and watch in horror as they slowly lift the far end of the box from the floor, tilting it toward their body, then begin to walk backwards toward the elevator. 

You charge ahead and push the call button, then run inside as soon as the doors open to hold the button that keeps them from closing. It is a precarious feat to get the eight-foot tall box into the small elevator with the two of you, and there is quite a bit of squishing yourselves into the wall with your feet nearly getting rolled over before the doors are able to close.

As you crane your neck to look at the person standing with their shoulder pressed into yours, they look at you and smile. 

"My name is Hoseok, by the way."

"Hoseok," you repeat, enjoying how it sounds on your tongue. You tell them your name, followed by, "They, them pronouns."

Hoseok's eyes widen, and he smiles softly. "My pronouns are he, him."

"Nice to meet you," you mutter, glad to have that all sorted out.

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond, but the elevator dings open. The fight to get out and into the hallway begins, though it is much easier this time around, and you pause briefly after exiting the elevator while your heartbeat evens out. It takes you a moment to realize Hoseok does not know where to deliver the tree, and you spring into action, walking a few doors down before coming to a stop in front of yours and fishing a key from your pocket.

"Will someone be by to help you decorate this later?" Hoseok asks politely.

You shove the door open, kicking stray shoes out of the way, and allow Hoseok to enter the space. A kitchenette is to the left, with a countertop that separates it from the small dining area and living room. Ahead, past the restored wood tables and forest green couches, is a nook where the windows jut out, creating a nice, cozy space for you to sit and read. You lead the way, picking up stray clothing items, then tell Hoseok to set the box down beside a pile of books.

"No," you finally respond. "It's just me."

Sheepishly, you glance around and scratch your head as the realization hits that you don't have anything to decorate the tree with. Ash has a bin of holiday items, and you are certain that there are some that are meant for a tree, but the idea of digging through their things makes you uncomfortable.

"Actually, I don't have anything to put on this yet," you admit.

"I guess we have to go shopping, then," Hoseok says with a soft smile.

We. Just like that, Hoseok breezes into your life and makes himself at home, and you feel helpless to stop him, returning his smile with a smaller one, as you mutter, "I guess we do."

❄ Not everyone participating has tag lists for their stories, but I will, for this one, so if you would like to be tagged, please let me know! ❄

Hope for the Holidays is copyright 2022 Nabi Olive, all rights reserved. Let’s be friends on Twitter!

[bostongirl13]

Mentally tired

A/N: The story is based on my personal experiences from a few days ago. Even though I didn't have a person like Chris in my fanfiction, I still have a lovely friend who helped me. Please do not let anyone ever bring you to this state, because no matter what others say or do, YOU are the most important, YOUR mental and physical health is the most important and it is not subject to discussion. So remember that if something disturbs your well-being, cut yourself off from it if possible. Health is very important and nothing can replace it.

Summary: You always considered yourself a mentally strong person, but suddenly someone managed to break you in a way you didn't think you could. For the first time in your life you felt so many things at once and you were powerless, there was nothing you could do. Fortunately, there was someone in your life who, although only hugged you, made you feel that you had a place in this world.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: AGE GAP, angst, anxiety, depression state, fluff and happy end, mistakes

 Masterlist

There's a kind of tired that needs a good night's sleep, and another that needs so much more. It’s like a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity. You always considered yourself a mentally strong person. Hardly anything upset you, made you cry from a feeling of helplessness or simply mental exhaustion. However, on that one day, in which very little happened, your strong psyche was broken. For the first time in your life, you felt that you were powerless and mentally exhausted. 

You finished work late and tired as usual. All day on high brats, in a constant run and only half an hour to eat breakfast. A job that required so much of you was not the height of your dreams, but the fact that you needed money did not give you much choice. You had to accept what you had.

The air was sweet, the weather was fine even if there were clouds in the sky and you could feel the wind on your skin. You got in your car and turned on the radio. You should be on your way home, but suddenly someone flips a button in your head. You burst into desperate crying without knowing where you had so many accumulated emotions that led you to such a state. Tears ran down your cheeks, your hands clenched on the steering wheel until the knuckles on your palms turned white. Your lungs were running out of air, and your open mouth let out a silent scream that you wanted someone to hear, come and take what you felt.

You took your phone out of your purse and, with shaking hands, eyes still blurry with tears, you wrote a short message to the only person who knew he would be able to help you, or at least you hoped so.

"I can call?"

After a while, you received an answer: "Of course, Princess"

You pressed the button and after a few chimps, you heard Chris's voice.

"What's up? Everything's okay?"

You were silent for a moment and tried to control yourself, but it didn't help you, because the moment you opened your mouth to say something, another wave of tears flooded your mouth.

"I can't anymore, I don't want to work here. It's the first time I'm so mentally tired ... I ... I ..." you didn't even know if your gibberish and cry made Chris understand anything. “I…I'm so tired"

"Hey, take it easy. What's wrong, Y / N?" Chris immediately started to panic, he wanted to be next to you and beat everyone who made you cry so hard.

"Work. I can't work here anymore. Still, someone wants something, they move me from place to place, they treat me like a parasite, and the worst thing is that because of the number of fucked up rules, I have a headache" you cried all the time, unable to calm down "I eat breakfast on the run or not at all. Everybody expects me to do my 100% as if I've been working there for years. Nobody takes into account that I'm learning everything and I'm new here” you were crying on the phone.

"I know it probably won't work, but try to calm down. And tell me where you are, I'll come to get you."

"I'm trying, but I can't" you sniffed trying to breathe evenly and stop crying "You don't have to. I'm in the car and ...."

"Then take a few deep breaths and come to my place. I live closer and I won't let you be alone today. Not like that." he says firmly. You knew that a discussion with him would be useless because he was able to come to you, pack you and bring you to his home.

"Ok"

"Ok?"

"Yes, I'll be there in 20 minutes," you said and after a few words of comfort you hung up.

Even though you tried to stop crying, you couldn't. Salty drops ran down your cheeks whole way to Chris's house.

When you got there Chris was waiting for you with Dodger. You felt embarrassed showing yourself in this state and uncomfortable, but you still needed someone by your side.

"Oh my god, Y / N" Chris immediately hugged you to him, and you burst into a hysterical cry again.

"Please calm down. Everything will be fine. I promise." You knew Chris was trying to comfort you, but it was not successful. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks and soaking his T-shirt.

After a few minutes, you went inside where Chris gave you his hoodie and told you to go take a warm bath or shower. At first, you didn't want to cause him trouble, after all, you were just friends with a big age difference, and you didn't feel comfortable roaming his house like that. He, however, didn't mind and practically pushed you into the bathroom and went to order some take-out.

As soon as you got in the shower, you sat down on the floor and let the water wash off you all day. You didn't even know how long you've been sitting in the bathroom until Chris knocked to ask if you were okay.

"Yes" you yelled to him and grabbed a bottle of shampoo and shower gel to get a quick wash, then put on Chris clothes and went to the living room.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I ordered pizzas and Korean food. I remember how you used to say it was your favorite, but if you wanted something less spicy ..."

"You didn't have to" you interrupted him seeing how embarrassed he was because of such tinsel as eating. "Thank you", you smiled and kissed his cheek, and then you sat down next to him.

Chris froze at your gesture and it took him a few moments to get back to reality. He looked at you in his clothes, you looked cute in his oversized hoodie.

You ate practically in silence, except for the TV's on and the Dodger's soft snoring. You were no longer crying, but still feeling mentally tired. You didn't have the strength to go home or to work tomorrow. You wanted to run away somewhere where no one would find you. And so far that place has been Chris's house and the Korean food you chose.

"I don't know how you can eat something like this!" you burst out laughing as Chris drank a glass of water in one breath, "This is fucking hot"

"Not for me," you said, taking a piece of hot chicken to your mouth.

After you finished your meal, you sat down comfortably on the couch and played a movie. You covered yourself with a blanket and slumped slightly on the couch, pulling your knees up. You saw Chris want to ask you something, but he doesn't know how to do it.

"Bosses are assholes, and the amount of work you have to do in a short time is impossible to get done. Besides, there are no human conditions to eat a meal and the constant noise and crowds ..." you paused for a moment to wipe the tear flowing down your cheek "I can't explain it, just a red lamp lights up in my head and someone screams run, but I can't because I don't know where the exit is. I feel, I know I'm trapped and .. . "you started crying again.

You felt strong arms press you against the hard chest of the body to which they belong. You immediately hugged Chris and closed your eyes. And how by a magic wand you started to calm down. He stroked your hair holding his cheek against your head. When you got up and looked at Chris's blue irises, you felt very calm and safe. You didn't know what it is about him that makes your body relax when he touches you.

Chris placed his hands on your cheeks and wiped away your tears. You felt as if you were enchanted, but at the same time, they were doing what your heart and mind told you as if you still had full control over your actions. You bet your lower lip as your gaze traveled from Chris's to his lips and back to his eyes. And then you felt his lips on yours.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. His kiss is not at all the same as those you had before, but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lives in us all. You threw your arms around his neck and dragged him along. Chris didn't protest. He propped himself up on one elbow so as not to crush you with the weight of his body, and he rested his other hand on your cheek. In that moment of the kiss, you were in each other’s protective cocoon.

You felt his tongue gently move over your lip, subtly pleading for entry. You parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He took his time, slowly revealing every nook and cranny of your lips and letting your tongues dance at an unhurried beat. Your hands moved you from his neck to his hair, tangling your fingers in brown curls. Chris growled and moved his hand to your thigh, throwing your leg over his hip, then carefully placed his body on yours.

The feeling that accompanied it all was incomparable to anything else. It felt like you were just getting to know the world as a little child.

When you pulled away from each other to catch your breath, you couldn't take your eyes off you. Each of you has been examining the face of the other, trying to read feelings and thoughts.

Chris touched your swollen lips with his thumb and smiled slightly at which you smiled back.

"You are so beautiful when you smile. I don't want that smile to fade from your face. Never," he whispered.

Your cheeks turned red, you could tell by the warmth you felt on your face. But even so, you found enough confidence to answer him unequivocally.

"So don't let me be sad"

After these words, Chris's lips were on yours again.

tags:   @patzammit @ivettt​ @mostannoyingbillioner @speechlessxx​ @angrybirdcr​ @ozarkthedog​​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @sweetflowerdreams​ @worksby-d 

[veilder]

"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

[blahkugo]

Omakase

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+, smut, slight overstim, all characters are aged up, ofc. 

A/N: Happy birthday to the woman that literally birthed my blog, the writer of the best fics I’ve ever read-- *cough Notice, Seven Minutes, Of Love and Lemons, etc.*-- @lookslikeleese​. It’s 5 am right now and my brain cannot come up with the proper words, but just know I love you so much. Thank you for creating our entire friend group. I LOVE YOU. 

omakase (noun): 

(in a Japanese restaurant) a meal consisting of dishes selected by the chef; chef’s choice. 

Thirty minutes into supper with the Todorokis, you think your heart may actually stop beating. It’s not the awkward silence, nor the snowstorm of icy glares traveling across the table. You’ve long since made your peace with the scents of charred leather couches and melted silverware that linger in your hair whenever one of the men gets riled up. 

No, it’s an issue far more pressing than the typical family drama, a matter that needs to be resolved with stealth— immediately. 

It’s Shouto’s fingers, darting into his pocket and pressing a single button. It’s your heels digging into the cool tile beneath you. It’s every nerve standing on end, every passing second sending a wave of heat to your core. Your knuckles blanche, gripping the oak table with such ferocity that it may just snap, and your thighs shake, overwhelmed.

The issue is that there’s a little pink vibrator pressing against your clit and the bi-colored bastard chews his food as though this night is no different than any other. 

It doesn’t matter that the toy’s been placed at the lowest setting all night, doesn’t matter that your fingernails relieve a bit of the pressure every time you dig them into your exposed thighs. The only thought crossing your mind is your impending orgasm. How are you supposed to stifle euphoric pleasure when you’re barely able to hold it together now? 

“So, how’s that new job going?” Enji asks more out of courtesy than interest. While you typically humor his attempts at placid conversation, you’re too troubled to speak to the stoic man in front of you. What if your juices seep through your soaked panties right onto the chair? 

“It’s— ah- it’s really good.” 

And this has been your entire night thus far. Feeble efforts to remain coherent, whines and gasps hidden behind awkward coughs— anything and everything you can possibly do to maintain your dignity in the presence of your boyfriend’s father. 

“What was that funny story you were telling me earlier today?” Shouto doesn’t miss a beat, sending a quick slant your way before stuffing another bite of rice into his mouth. He knows precisely what he’s doing, can feel the pointed daggers you dig into the side of his head, but his relaxed smile reveals nothing to the three pairs of eyes gazing intently at you, awaiting your response.

“Oh, Mt. Lady, she— oh my god,” As soon as you begin speaking, he cranks the toy up to a new level. Though it’s only for a second, the sound that leaves your body is inhuman, a mortifying cross between a sob and a choke that has your palm slamming onto the table fiercely.

All at once, the table is bustling with concern for your safety. To their naive eyes, it seems you choked on a bite of food, and Fuyumi hurries to grab you a glass of water. Shouto simply remains seated, a slick grin plastered across his face at the sight of your heated cheeks and teary eyes. What the fuck could have possessed you to agree to this in the first place? 

“I-I’m okay,” you mumble out, embarrassment shaking you far worse than any sex toy ever could. And that fact— the way your eyebrows knead together in discomfort as you squirm in your seat— is precisely what Shouto wants. You’re no stranger to humiliation, no stranger to the tugging deep in your gut or the heated flush that darts onto your mattress and makes its home on your cheeks.

But this? This type of shame is foreign; it makes your head spin and refuses to waver no matter how much you silently gripe and plead. “Honestly, I feel a bit—” another pulse, another pained gasp from you, “ill.” The words barely make their way out before you’re gritting your teeth, thighs pressing together so tightly they may leave pretty purple marks. 

“Maybe I should take her upstairs,” Shouto sighs, faux apology slipping through his mouth with ease. When did the fucker get so good at lying? 

And then he’s helping you up from your seat, rubbing tender circles into your back, like any good boyfriend would. But every graze is unbearable, sends a tidal wave of warmth rushing through your core. The most innocent of touches has become obscene, twisted in a way only you and the cool man next to you are able to acknowledge. 

As you climb the stairs with shaky legs, you can only pray that the rest of the family doesn’t notice the slick juices trailing down your thighs. 

—

“Who knew dinner and a show could be so entertaining?” He teases, just barely dodging the fist you throw half-heartedly at his shoulder. His supple lips are glued into a smirk, one that probably won’t drop until the night is long over. 

“Please– I-” you attempt to stifle your moans, but in the comfort of his childhood bedroom you find yourself slipping into a high-pitched whine. “Turn it off.” He seems to debate the plea internally, slender fingers brushing over the buttons until you grip harshly at his bicep. You’ve endured enough misery to last you months. 

When he finally switches it off, you feel your entire body slacken and relief wash over you; however, it does nothing for the throbbing in your clit or the pool of desire still brimming in your core. What you crave is his touch, the warmth that pokes and prods at your every muscle, loosening each nerve until you’re a babbling mess— wholly at the mercy of his lithe fingers. 

“Shou,” you mewl, voice dripping with desperation. His eyes widen for a quick second, brows raised and shocked by your blatant come-on with his family only a level down. “I need you.” 

Those three simple words have him springing into action, shoving you against the mattress. Pinning you beneath him with ease, he hikes your skirt up to your hips before running a slender digit against your clothed slit. 

“You made a mess,” his words carry no weight, only amazement at the juices flowing freely through the thin panties and down your thighs. “Probably made a mess all over your chair too.” 

With that comment, your shame is back with a vengeance, tinging the tips of your ears and causing you to cry out. Before Shouto, you’d have never thought this sort of depraved commentary could have you shaking. Hell, you’re not sure he even knew what he was doing to you at first; ever oblivious, Shouto simply speaks his mind. 

Only when he noticed the effect of his words, did he begin using those passing observations against you. Now, he lives for your reactions, spurs you on if only to see how far a gruff remark can push you— and typically, your limit is reached in wanton sobs and bright red scratch marks down his back. 

He doesn’t bother with removing the lace panties, only tugs them to the side so he can brush his fingers against your naked slit. When he pushes a thumb against your clit, you can’t help the loud cry that escapes you. “Bite,” he offers up his wrist so that your moans don’t carry through the thin walls. 

Your teeth sink into his flesh, eliciting a sharp breath at the sudden pain. And he enjoys that part too— the lengths you’ll go to achieve pleasure, the stinging reminders of your desire. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?” He tests a finger, then two, knuckles deep in your doughy walls as you writhe on the bed. “Good girl.” 

“Mmph,” you feel your eyes roll back at the soft praise, thighs tensing as he begins to pump his digits in and out. “Faster, ah– please.” Your moans are muffled against his arm, but he complies nonetheless, fingers curling and hitting the spot that drums against your heartbeat, that rattles through your brain.

The second he brings his lips to your clit, you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Hair slick with sweat, your hands roam through his own wet strands, gripping and tugging him closer, closer, closer. He suckles hungrily, his last meal long forgotten as he pushes you further over the edge. 

All at once, you see stars. You’re unsure whether you’re keeping quiet like he asked or sobbing loudly, the tidal wave of pleasure consumes you whole, stomach going taut and twisting as he allows you to ride out your orgasm. With the toy slowly edging you all night, this bliss feels fully merited— is exactly what you deserve after being subjected to his teasing for so long. 

Shouto only lets up when your entire body has gone slack and you push his head away. Bringing his fingers up to your supple lips, he watches hungrily as you slurp at your own slick. 

His eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, pooling with eagerness and a longing for more; he brings a thumb to his chin to wipe at your juices— licks a long stripe up the digit to fully savor you. The image is immodest at the least, animalistic at most.

It reignites your own thirst immediately. 

Though you’re exhausted, core spasming from overuse, you find yourself tugging at his waistband, pulling him close so he can sheath himself inside you in one fell thrust. 

“Fuck,” his voice is husky, groan stifled in the nook of your shoulder. “Still so fucking tight for me.” The only sounds that fill the air are your joint moans, the squeaky springs of the mattress, and the headboard clanging against the wall— sweat soaked skin as his hips snap against you. 

“Ah— please, please, please,” it seems to be the only phrase that falls from your loose lips. Every jerk sends shocks across your damp flesh, vision going foggy as he sends your brain spinning. Once again, you teeter at the edge, so close. Your legs wrap across his back, digging into the globes of his ass to pull him impossibly closer. 

“What do you want?” He grunts into your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your neck and across your chest. It may leave a mark or two, but it’s something to worry about later. 

“I–”At this point, you’re just a teary, blubbering mess, “please, Shou– need your cum.” You manage the words, knowing exactly what effect they have. His movements quicken, pace faltering as he chases his own high. 

And then, you’re both seeing stars. With one final shudder, his cock twitches, and then he’s spilling into you. Your groans intertwine, his a loud sigh of your name, you sobbing helplessly. 

Once he finally stills, he collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving. His fingers smooth at your matted hair, whispers of ‘so good for me’ and ‘fuck, baby’ into the shell of your ear as he allows your body— still trembling uncontrollably— time to regain composure.  

Now you remember why you agreed to this little game of his.

–

“I hope you feel better,” Fuyumi hugs you goodbye, though your eyes are glazed over in post-coital bliss. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet your own, anyways. But they couldn’t have heard; you were quiet. Weren’t you? 

As you stumble into the passenger side of Shouto’s pristine Model S, you catch the gruff comment Enji murmurs to Shouto, 

“You two could stand to be a bit less obvious next time.” 

[txemrn]

What About Us?

I am participating in this week's @wackydrabbles prompt number 99: "How about once more--for good luck!" (Prompt will be in bold)

Warning: fairly fluffy with a smidge of angst

Word count: 1575 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: "What About Us?" by P!nk

A/N: It's another Royal Roulette! What is RR? It's simple! Set your music to mix, and be inspired by the first song that pops up! I'm super excited about this one because it worked out perfectly with my desire to write something in honor of 🏳‍🌈PRIDE🏳‍🌈 month! I hope y'all enjoy! Big ol' hugs and special thanks to @burnsoslow and @chemist-ana for pre-reading this! The characters, some of the plot and dialogue belong to our friends at Pixelberry

🌈

A pair of deep ocean eyes anxiously shift around the New York hotel suite. He chews mindlessly on his pink, raw cuticles while his crossed-legs bounce with nervous fury. His other hand casually back-combs his playfully-styled locks, raking them upward into melted spikes. But, luckily for Maxwell, his close friends are preoccupied with excitement; they don’t notice that he is adrift with his raging, thunderous thoughts. Although their pressing questions have been answered, Maxwell wanders aimlessly with a broken heart.

Thanks to their clever sleuth work and strong desire for justice, Tariq was found; and better than anticipated, after careful discussion, he was willing to come forward about the false accusations of his relations with Lady Riley. But, time was of the essence if they were going to stop the Cordonian royal wedding. Riley along with her press secretary Justin, Drake, Hana, the Beaumont brothers work quickly to decipher the next course of action: a public statement to be broadcasted during Liam and Madeleine’s wedding shower.

Hana gently places her petite, manicured hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. Her warm smile and endearing touch calm his outward erratic nerves. Peering into her bright chocolate eyes, a roaring sense of courage overwhelms his internal timidity; he now has his own plan.

“You’re with me, Tariq,” Justin delegates, clapping Tariq’s back. The sound of his name breaks Maxwell from his fog. “We’ve got an appointment.” Maxwell’s eyes track the men as they exit the room, his opportunity for his own justice walking away in a tailored Brioni suit. He thinks quickly; this can’t be it. He needs answers.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Drake stifles a yawn, turning towards the open door. “But I need some sleep before we go to this shower.”

Perfect. Now is Maxwell’s chance. “Yeah,” his voice cracks before clearing his throat. “My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds.” Hopping from the tufted leather chair, Maxwell smooths out his slacks. He finger-guns the ladies, hoping his humor covers up his awkward eagerness to leave. And to get to Tariq.

“Justin!” Maxwell calls out from down the hallway, jogging to catch up to the two men. Leaning into Justin’s ear, he begins to whisper an inaudible request. Though he keeps his head bowed, fixated on his notecards, Tariq casually sneaks a glance at Maxwell.

“Right now?” Justin scoffs, “we don’t have time--”

“Please. Just for a minute.” Maxwell pleads, a wave of seriousness washing over his body.

Justin sighs, placing a hand on his hip, looking at his watch. “Alright,” he motions with his head, “my room. Five minutes. But, then we have to leave if we’re going to get this statement out on time.” Justin ushers an unsuspecting Tariq into his hotel quarters before leaving him alone.

Maxwell takes a deep breath, willing the waves of his churning stomach to cease. He grits his teeth into a smile as his racing heart returns from the clouds. He pops his knuckles one last time before heading into the room to face him.

Maxwell slowly makes his entrance, easing the door closed behind him. With his arms crossed, he leans against the entryway to a small, breakfast nook. Ensuring that his presence is known, he softly coughs as he watches Tariq’s reaction.

Tariq quietly looks out over the busy Manhattan traffic, not acknowledging Maxwell’s presence. He wrings his hands as his thoughts appear to wander.

“Well?” Maxwell starts, chewing on his bottom lip. Tariq rolls his eyes to Maxwell before returning to the view. Maxwell scoffs. “So, that’s it then, huh? That’s what this has come to?” He puts his hands on his hips as he begins to pace. "After everything we've been through--"

“Maxwell--” Tariq meekly whispers.

“And then," Maxwell interrupts, "to hurt my best friend, trying to take away her happy ending, too--?”

“Stop it, Max--” Tariq gruffly mutters.

“I mean, God, Riq!" Maxwell stops pacing, searching for the right words. "What did you think--no, what did you feel when you looked through that peep hole and saw me on the other side, knocking on your door?”

His question hangs in the air as Tariq turns towards an angry Maxwell. Relaxing his shoulders, he slowly steps closer. “Relief?” Maxwell shakes his head in disbelief at the answer. Tariq comes closer, cupping his hand on Maxwell’s face, gently stroking his thumb. “I had always hoped you would find me.”

Maxwell grabs his wrist to stop his tender touch. “Why, Riq? Just, why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn't you call me--?”

Tariq sighs, walking back to the window. “Constantine.”

“What does he have to do with anything--?”

Tariq let's out a long sigh. “He saw us, Max--” he looks to Maxwell, widening his eyes. “He--saw--us. You know? That morning?” He clears his throat. “At Applewood--?”

Max gasps, his cheeks flushing like a wildfire. “He saw us?” He tries to hide his grin, covering his mouth with his fingers. “But--”

“I know,” Tariq runs his hands nervously through his hair. “Later that morning, he requested my presence, only to threaten to reveal our relationship to the entire court--” he swallows thickly, “--not to mention our families-- and to the world.” Tariq’s eyebrows knit with worry as he continues. “My only deliverance was if I followed through with his plan to eliminate the American competition--” he defeatedly sighs, “--what I did to Lady Brooks, ‘for the sake of Cordonia and the Crown’.”

“Riq, I--I had no idea--”

“He told me I could return after Liam was married, but why would I want to?” The storm clouds gather in his eyes. “He would always have the truth about me--about us--hanging over our heads, not to mention how everyone must feel about me, how everyone must be disgusted with me--” he catches his head in his hands as his sobs. “How you must feel about me…” he whispers.

Max kneels in front of Tariq, taking his smooth, broad hands into his own. His eyes sparkle with adoration as Tariq stares at the floor. “Look at me.” Maxwell presses his lips to Tariq’s knuckles. “It’s okay--”

“I’m sorry,” Tariq stumbles over his tears. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done against Ramsford, against you--God!” He grips tightly to Maxwell’s hands. “I’m so sorry what I’ve done against us--if there’s even still an us--”

“Shhh,” Maxwell hushes his cries. “Riq, do you remember the last time we were here?”

The corners of Tariq’s mouth curl, his swollen eyes meeting Maxwell’s gaze. “How could I forget?”

Both of the men chuckle as Maxwell touches his hand to Tariq’s cheek, his thumb wiping away his tears. “We talked about finally going public--”

“I know, I know. And Max,” he sighs, “I’m still scared. Of what people will--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, smiling kindly at Tariq. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“Before or after the third bottle of that cheap Merlot?” Tariq raises a mischievous eyebrow, squeezing Maxwell’s hand. Maxwell’s eyes grow dark with desire, giving Tariq a knowing look.

“This was definitely before,” Maxwell titters; but his tone quickly grows serious. “But, seriously? Do you remember Riq?” Tariq softly nods, lacing his fingers with Maxwell’s. “I mean what I said--and I still do.”

Tariq leans forward, resting his head against Maxwell’s forehead at the sound of his words. Closing their eyes, they cherish the moment, savoring each other in the stillness of being together. They’re hearts intertwine, beating as one, keeping perfect time and rhythm.

“I still love you, too, Max.” Lifting Maxwell’s chin up with the soft touch of his hand, their lips meet passionately. Maxwell slips his arms around Tariq’s neck, deepening the kiss. Tariq quietly moans into Maxwell’s lips, teasing them with his tongue as he pulls him into an embrace.

“Gentlemen?” A sudden knock at the door makes them jump apart. Justin appears, tapping on his watch. “We gotta go! If we leave now, we will make it--”

“Just-in time,” both Maxwell and Tariq groan. “We know. We know.”

Filing out of the room, Tariq takes Maxwell’s hand in his hand. Maxwell pauses, giving Tariq an inquisitive look, looking at their laced fingers before continuing comfortably down the hallway.

“I’m ready, Max--”

“I know you are.” Maxwell squeezes his hand as they stop to wait for the elevator. “You’re going to do great--”

“No, no--” Tariq raises their hands, kissing the back of Maxwell’s hand. “This. I’m tired of hiding. From court, from Constantine, from everyone. I’m ready for this. For you.”

“Riq,” letting go of his hand, Maxwell’s eyes flutter, blinking away a tear. “Maybe we need to talk more about this whenever we get home--because, oh boy, I don’t want you to feel any pressure, and you know, I’m willing to wait forever for you, you know that, right? I just want to make sure--”

Tariq steps up, pressing his hands against Maxwell’s chest. He leans in to place a gentle kiss to his supple lips to quiet his rambling. “I’m sure.” He smiles, mirroring Maxwell’s toothy grin. “Now,” Tariq continues, tapping on his lips with his finger, “how about once more--for good luck!”

Maxwell grazes his lips tenderly against his lover’s mouth before embracing him tightly. Leaning into Tariq’s ear, Maxwell lowers his voice: “we don’t need luck. babe.”

As the doors slide open with the chime of the elevator, Maxwell takes Tariq’s hand. Smiling at each other, the men step onto the lift and into their future together.

🌈

TRR Tags (please let me know if you need a status change in your tag! If you were forgotten, please forgive me! A clean-up is coming!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @yourmajesty09

[fleckcmscott]

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too. 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @rafaelbottom​ @ralugraphics​ @iartsometimes​

[luvlyrv]

The Fleeting Image of You | Wendy x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst and fluff

Summary: Your world was falling apart at the seams, until a mysterious girl fell into your life. Then, you began to fall for her.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: First time I’ve written something with the intention of making you cry. Please tell me if you cried, or if it at least made you sad. That’d be pretty epic. Is it mean of me to say that?

Also, I apologize for taking so long to upload something... I’ve been flooded with work lately and school is just getting way more stressful now :/ I have some stuff lined up for ‘Naughty’ and ‘Our Songs’ btw! Just have to finish.

Date: 2/2/21

You sigh as you sit down in your favorite corner of the library. You set your stuff down, making it known that you'd taken the seat, and stood back up to begin scouring for something new to read.

Spending your time in the quiet and tranquil local library had become a new favorite past-time of yours. It was strange, you thought, how lonely you felt recently. You couldn't help but find yourself disconnected from the majority of the world, a cloud of sadness following you everywhere. No matter how much you tried it felt like you couldn't bother to reach out. Yet, when it came to the library the loneliness exhibited here was not something awful, but rather something chased after. Something you can find comfort in.

You stop in front of a shelf as you reach out for a book with a maroon cover. It seemed to be on the older side. You gently grazed the spine of the book, enjoying the rougher texture it had. You pull it out of the shelf, only to be surprised that it had no writing on either side of the book. Perhaps the title and author would be written in the first page.

You open up the book to look inside. Instead of any text, the first page was a beautiful ink illustration. It seemed to be a design of a mirror. You trace the image and upon closer inspection, it didn't look printed on. It was as if someone drew it in the pages by their self. Maybe someone left their sketchbook here? Or perhaps this was just a strange, unlabeled picture book?

Intrigued by the illustration, you go back to your seat to sit down and flip through the other pages. After the mirror, there was an image of a girl, and after that an image of another girl. You smile a bit, finding the images cute. Especially the one of the second girl, who seemed to share the same hair length and style as you. While in the middle of admiring the art in front of you, you felt a presence. You turn your head up, only for the sight to make your breath hitch as a beautiful woman stood beside you. The stranger was also seemingly enchanted by the book in your hands.

"H-hi" You say softly, mesmerized by how soft her brown hair looked as it cascaded around her face. Her eyes that were scanning the book moved to look into yours. You felt your mouth dry up.

"Hey, I was just wondering if it was okay for me to sit at this table next to you?" The voice that left her mouth was laced with a friendly confidence. You quickly looked around the rest of the library, noticing the overwhelming amount of empty tables. You decide to not question it though, because why would you deny the company of someone like her?

"Sure." You nod as you answer, she flashes you a smile and sits across from you. She tugs at the bookbag she has around her body to open it, pulling out a thick book. You look back at your own book, but you can't seem to focus anymore. You flip the page to try and look busy, but you don't really pay attention to what's on the paper anymore. Your eyes glance back and forth from your book to the woman, who's now peacefully reading.

It takes time for the courage inside of you to build up, and you're afraid of disturbing her, but you felt like you had to say something.

"So… " You begin speaking. The stranger's head perks up as she gives you her attention. "What's your name?"

"Oh I'm sorry!" She laughs a little bit, the noise is akin to a sweet melodic bell. "I never introduced myself. You can call me Seungwan, and you?" You notice that Seungwan slips a bookmark into her book and gently closes her book. It seems like she's giving you her full attention, a feeling you haven't felt in a while. You smile before you talk.

"I'm Y/N, nice to meet you. What brings you here today?" You start playing with your hands underneath the table as the nerves begin to truly settle in.

And that's how it all started.

*

*

For the past couple of weeks your mood had been brightening significantly. Before, it was hard to get out of bed for the day to attend your classes. It was hard to even pick up your phone and reply to the very few messages you got. Most of them being from Yeri, the only person you'd consider a real-friend who occasionally checked in on you. Yet lately you found yourself hopping out of bed, excited with the prospect of wrapping up your day quickly to head to the library as soon as possible.

You now officially considered the library to be your second home. Instead of working at your desk you could work in the quiet library, surrounded by the smell of books and coffee and most importantly, Seungwan. As the two of you grew more familiar with each other Seungwan seemed to have a paradoxical effect on you.

The way her eyes stared into yours, all her little mannerisms, they would make you struggle to continue speaking coherently. At the same time though, her sitting across from you, quietly humming, made you feel at peace.

You wouldn't mind spending everyday like this, an evening filled with library-talk with Seungwan. It wouldn't hurt to switch it up a little though. So, when Seungwan finally came over to your little nook in the library, you excitedly jumped from your seat.

"Seungwan! How about we go do something fun?" You haven't even put your things down, expecting her to say yes. Instead she decided to tease you a bit first.

"Oh, is this not fun enough for you?" She plasters on an exaggeratedly hurt face and you punch her arm softly.

"You know I don't mean it like that. How about we go somewhere else for once?" You lean closer to her and tug on the sleeve of her cardigan to beg, and she quickly sighs in defeat.

"Let's go to a karaoke place then." She casually suggests. Meanwhile you start to panic, because god what if you embarrassed yourself in front of her?

"Well, uhm! I'm not too sure about that, how about we-"

"You're the one who's begging me to go out, so I'm picking where!" There's a playful tone in her voice as she immediately turns away from you, heading outside the library. You quickly follow her and decide not to worry too much about your singing skills.

When you arrive to the karaoke place and are ushered into your own room with Seungwan, you start to get nervous. She doesn't fail to notice the way your wiped your hands on your thighs as she hands you a microphone.

"Are you nervous?" She asks as she grabs a microphone for herself. She steps over towards you and sits down on the plush couch next to you.

"No. Maybe. Just a little." There's a pause before you admit your true feelings. "Yes, a lot." The both of you laugh at your comment before Seungwan gives you a friendly nudge.

"I won't judge! I promise you, just don't worry about it and we'll have fun tonight." She stands up and selects the first song for the evening.

If you didn't say that what you heard was angelic, you would be the world's biggest liar. You couldn't help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. It was as if an angel held a private concert just for you. Or perhaps, if sirens were real, this would be what they sounded like. Regardless of what you can compare it to, it was a special sound you wanted to treasure forever.

"I'm not sure how I could top that." You laugh after she finishes. She shakes her head before talking to you.

"Who said anything about being on top? Just have fun!" Then she drags you to go over and choose a song to sing.

You're nervous, you really are, but you decide to trust in Seungwan's words and give an honest performance. You pushed away your worries as you tried to enjoy yourself. By the end of the night, her promise came true. The many duets and solos you guys shared strained your throat, but it was a pain that was worth it.

Before the time in your room ran out Seungwan decided on singing one last song. You gave her some cheers as the song started playing, giving her some not needed (but hopefully appreciated) encouragement. After several seconds she finally started singing. Once again you found yourself feeling like you were on cloud nine solely from her voice.

It took a while for you to snap out in the trance-like state you entered, but once you did you truly appreciated the lyrics that your friend was singing.

"Do you think of me when you open your eyes in the morning? So you think of me when you see something nice? Do you laugh alone out of the blue like I do?"

It's a slow song, a soft song, a song filled with love and affection. It felt like her voice was built for something like this. As you listen to the lyrics heat begins to spread on your face. It felt like recently you've been asking the same questions to yourself about a certain person.

"Tell me is this the first time? Have you fallen for me as much as I have fallen for you?"

Maybe it was the intense desire in your heart that was playing tricks on your eyes, but it seemed like Seungwan's eyes kept looking between you and the screen more than usual. That there was a flicker of something within her welcoming brown eyes. Your heart is pounding too fast now. It threatened to beat out of your chest as your heartbeat filled your ears, becoming louder than the music itself.

"I want to know everything, if my heart has grown deeper than yours like a fool."

Certainly those lingering glances meant nothing. You ignore your feelings as you try to calm yourself down. When the song ended your time at the karaoke room was over. You complimented Seungwan before thanking her for her time. After promising each other to go out for karaoke another time, the two of you went your separate ways home satisfied with the fun night out.

When you got home, you pulled out a familiar maroon book before laying on your bed. You never properly checked it out. Mostly because it didn't even seem like a library book, judging by the fact that it had no stamps nor barcodes. You assumed that not many people were picking it up anyways, and so once you had your time with the book you'd carefully place it back where you found it.

It was odd that you wanted to keep the book so much, but that was due to how strangely comforting it was. Every once in a while you would pull it out again, only to admire it and its wordless contents. Besides the first few pages, every illustration had two girls together. Maybe those two girls were just friends, but in your mind you liked to imagine them as lovers. Your favorite illustration of it all was one towards the end. On the final pages there were illustrations of a night sky speckled with stars, the girls looking out to the sea.

You sigh before putting the book down and turning off the light. Closing your eyes you wonder, is that something you'd like to experience?

*

*

It's been a couple months now. You've spent a considerable amount of time hanging out with Seungwan, as well as a considerable amount of time gushing about her to Yeri. You never explicitly said you liked her, but you certainly didn't hold back on telling your friend every trait you admired about Seungwan.

These days, you and Seungwan would meet up in the library and sometimes stay there for a calm and quiet experience. Other times the two of you would be more inclined to have fun walking around downtown, going to karaoke, or enjoying the bustling energy of a café while drinking coffee.

Today was one of the days where Seungwan suggested to head over to get some coffee. Of course you agreed, as you decided long ago that anywhere Seungwan went you'd want to go too. Not surprised by your easy yes the two of you head out to your typical coffee place.

While in the middle of sipping on coffee Seungwan turns to the side. She rustles through her handbag to pull out two bracelets. She held onto the one with your name on it, while slightly bringing forward the one bearing her name. You stop drinking your beverage as you took a closer look at the bracelet resting in her hand.

It was a simple bracelet made with a dark string running through some beads. You appreciated the cute minimalism of it all. The beads were blue, and after spelling out her name there was a final bead that had a heart on it. You slowly reach out for the bracelet and wear it, admiring the way it felt and looked on your wrist.

You look at Seungwan's wrist as she also adorns the accessory. After your name was also a bead with a heart, and you can't help but to ask why she suddenly gave you such a gift anyways.

"Well… " She begins to look away, perhaps a bit nervously? When looking back at you she quickly looks back down. Unable to hold eye contact she explains herself anyways. "I thought it'd be a nice way to signify our connection. To keep us tied to each other." There's a moment of silence after she says this. You can't possibly control your heart, your mind, your feelings. Could this mean what you wanted it to mean?

"What kind of connection?"

"Whatever kind you want." The words come out a whisper as Seungwan finally looks back at you. Was this an opening? Did she mean what you thought she meant? You let your hand cautiously approach hers. She doesn't back away and let's you take it.

"Can I kiss you?" Your face is fire-hot as you ask, but now more than ever you wanted to. She leans in, and there was the first kiss you shared.

It was short, but it didn't need to be long. When your lips made contact it gave you a feeling of being weightless, yet at the same time it was enough to ground you into reality. This was it. It was really happening.

*

*

It had only been a few short weeks since you and Seungwan started dating. The two of you never said so aloud, but you both knew. She knew by the way you didn't shy to touch and be close with her more than before. You knew by the way she smiled and looked into your eyes. Sometimes when you like someone enough, you don't have to say it to understand.

Today when meeting up at the library Wendy took you out to eat at a nice restaurant. After enjoying dinner together she said she had something important to show you, curiously you followed her as the two of you eventually arrived at the boardwalk.

Since eating dinner took a while, it was now night. The bright white stars speckled the dark blue sky, while the inky black sea reflected the moon and the streetlights. Seungwan takes your hand, casually walking down the boardwalk with you while taking in the sights. You hum while enjoying the feeling of her hand in yours.

"Is this the important thing you wanted to show me?" You ask.

"I just wanted you to appreciate how beautiful the world can be sometimes, how beautiful living is." She says and looks at you. She gives you a smile. The kind of smile that told you that a person was content with life.

At one point Seungwan stops and leans over the railing, staring out to the sea. You lean over the railing right beside her. You spend some time admiring the sea, but you would rather turn and look at Seungwan. As you look at her she's still facing forward. Then she asks you a question you weren't expecting.

"Do I make you happy?" You would like to believe it's a rhetorical question, but she says it with a straight face.

"Of course you do, silly." You reply, scooting closer to her body to warm your own up. She smiles a bit at your answer before looking at you. There's a pause before she continues questioning you.

"Does anything else?"

"I don't know. Anything can be good as long as it's with you." You answer honestly, but Seungwan seems displeased. With a slight frown on her face and a glint of worry in her eyes she begins to hug you.

"I hope one day, Y/N, you realize you aren't alone." She says as she strokes your hair, tightening the embrace between the two of you.

"I won't be as long as I have you." You whisper into the crook of her neck. A moment of silence passes before she sighs and whispers.

"I wish you didn't rely on me so much."

"Why?"

She breaks the embrace and you begin to miss the warmth until she takes your face with her two hands. She looks at you with a longing you never saw before. Her eyes were watery as she gently confessed.

"Because I don't know how much longer we have together." You almost ask her to explain what she meant before she softly placed a kiss on your lips.

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as you look around your room. Just a moment ago you were by the sea with Seungwan, and now you were back in your room. You flopped in your bed in frustration that you dreamed up a scenario with her. You calmed down though, knowing that you could visit her again later today.

After attending your classes for the day you excitedly made your way to the library. You walked towards the little corner of the library that you and Seungwan always shared, surprised to see that nobody was there. You sat down at the table anyways, opening up your bag and trying to immerse yourself in a book. Your foot tapped and tapped, the words your eyes saw across the page meaning nothing to you. It had only been 10 minutes, but it felt like forever.

Annoyed at her absence, you walked around searching for her, thinking maybe she was hiding and playing a trick on you. You whispered her name as you peeked your head around corners, going up and down in the aisles between selves. Fed up with searching, you went to a familiar librarian and asked if she'd seen Seungwan yet.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but who's Seungwan?" She said with a confused look on her face. You gave her a confused face back, shocked that a woman who had recommended books for the both of you to read, a woman who had watched your blossoming relationship with Seungwan progress, act like she didn't exist. You scoff and laugh it off.

"Sorry for asking." You say in a slightly sarcastic manner and go to pick up your bag. You reckon that Seungwan made her play along with her joke. You'd have to scold her for messing with you so bad later today.

You're bored and you don't know how to spend your time with Seungwan. As you walk down the familiar path, looking out to the sea, you grab your phone and decide to call Yeri.

"Yerim!" You call out as soon as you hear her answer the phone.

"Yeah, what's up Y/N?" She asks you.

"I'm bored and have some time to kill since Seungwan isn't here today. Do you wanna grab something to eat?" There's a silence on her end for a while.

"Sure, where do you wanna meet up?" She asks, but before you can answer she gives you another question. "Also, who's Seungwan? Is this a new friend you made? You should introduce me to them!" Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden and you don't know what to say. You stammer out a response for Yeri.

"Uh, just meet me at the boardwalk. I'll be waiting here." Before Yeri can say anything else you end the call. You bite your tongue in frustration. Did Seungwan make Yeri play in on this too? Despite all the reasoning you tried to do, a deep, unsettling feeling took over your entire body.

When Yeri arrived, you smiled and went about your day with her. Throughout the day Yeri noticed that something was off about you. You kept zoning out and were unable to really hold a conversation. As frustrated as she was with your lack of engagement, she figured you were working through things and didn't question you about it. Later that night she dropped you off at your place and you thanked her. You went back to your room, allowing yourself to putt all your weight on your bed as you stared at the ceiling.

The tears you had been holding all day finally broke through. The hot and salty tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. Had this all just been a cruel joke from your mind? Was it just a dream that lasted too long? Maybe, just maybe, the voice screaming in the back of your head was right the entire time. Seungwan was just too good to be true.

You decide to pull out a book from your nightstand, the book that you found within the bookshelves the day you met her. Thankfully the book was there. Perhaps your memory didn't fail you entirely. When you opened it to the first page though, you were shocked to see nothing. Frantically, you scanned through all the other pages only to see them in the same state. You wanted to question it, but considering what happened earlier today you just couldn't.

All you could do now was cry. Nothing made sense to you. What happened to the person you just kissed mere hours ago? The person who made living bearable again?

Afraid of getting the book wet, you quickly close it and put it away. You raise your hand up to your face as you sniffle. Wiping away the waterfall coming from your eyes, you feel the soft scratches of a string and bead. You pull away to see the bracelet you so distinctly remember putting on snuggly fitting on your wrist. Nothing made sense and you could only come to one conclusion.

She was gone, but not gone from your memory.

[idreamofplaid]

Crystal Ball

Square Filled: Bookstore AU for @spnfluffbingo; College AU for @spngenrebingo; Sam for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Sam x Reader; Pamela mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Tags: oral (male receiving)

Summary: The reader sees an unexpected and wonderful glimpse of her future. 

Word Count: 2220

Knowledge is yours if you seek it. That’s what the sign by the front door said. The only thing Y/ cared about seeking right now was some time alone with Sam, some quality time. It would be two more hours until that could happen because the bookstore didn’t close until eleven. Y/N would have to content herself with stealing glances at Sam between customers for now.

He was comfortably settled in his favorite spot to study in one of the reading areas her Aunt Pamela had created to keep the atmosphere of the store “cozy yet mystical”. Pamela had worked for years as a psychic to save the money to buy this place and turn it into something that matched the vision in her head. She had a reading room in the back where she saw clients three days a week by appointment only; the years of hard work had paid off, allowing her to have a much lighter schedule now. Business was good for Crystal Ball Books, allowing Pamela to spend the fruits of her labor in the Caribbean this holiday season. That meant there was no chance of her making a surprise appearance in the bookstore tonight, which was exactly what Y/N wanted because she had plans after all these people were gone. They were sexy, seductive, get Sam naked plans.

If only all these people would disappear, but the store was filled with students and locals tonight, looking for holiday gifts or just hanging out with a cup of herbal tea or a coffee to escape the stress of finals week. The place was organized into distinct areas based on subject matter, creating a unique atmosphere in each area, and people were in all of them. There was a section devoted to Chakras where all the colors of the rainbow were represented. It was bright and had a lively energy with wind chimes and crystals accenting the space. Another, and one of Y/N’s favorite areas, was the Native American spirituality “room”. It was in a nook near the front entrance. There was always white sage burning there to keep the space cleansed, and the feeling when you walked among those shelves that contained not only books but Native American art and smudging supplies for sale was serene. 

Sam was in the Celtic section of the store. It was filled with earthy colors, and statues of Celtic gods and goddesses were scattered throughout the tall shelves along with the books. This was also where the Yule/Christmas tree was located. It was by the light of this tree and the strings of holiday lights adorning the bookshelves that Sam was studying for his American Folklore final. 

Y/N was putting some new books on Feng Shui out in the Eastern Traditions corner which gave her a perfect sight line to stop what she was doing and enjoy the view of Sam. He was running his long, thick, graceful fingers through his hair absentmindedly while he concentrated on the book on his lap. She wished it was her fingers in his hair, feeling its silky softness slide through them. He bit his bottom lip and turned the page. Y/N stared at his mouth. She was going to push him down on that sofa and kiss him until she could feel him getting hard against her and…. “Excuse me.” The voice jarred her right out of that glorious vision. “Where are the books on auras?”

It was a long two hours, and being constantly busy didn’t make it pass any faster. When Y/N had finally sent the other two employees home and locked the door behind the last customer, she couldn’t get to Sam fast enough. He was still buried in his books. Y/N took the book he was currently reviewing out of his hand and read the title, “Ghosts of the Midwest”. She tossed it onto the table beside the couch and sat on his lap, straddling him.

“Haven’t you had enough ghosts for tonight?” She laid her palms flat on his chest and leaned down to kiss the side of his neck. Sam put his hands on her waist and held her in place. She felt his body relax, and he moaned signaling his pleasure to her. She kissed her way down his neck until she got to his sweatshirt. “You know you’re going to make an A anyway.”

Sam laughed, and she raised her head to see what was so funny. He pushed her hair out of her face so he could see her better and let his hand rest on the side of her head, holding it with his fingers threaded through her hair. “Those A’s don’t happen automatically, and I can’t let up now if I’m going to get into a good graduate school.” 

Sam had a plan for his life. He was going to research the paranormal and teach others about it. That was one of the things that was so attractive about him. He knew what he wanted without letting ambition take him over. She smiled at him and ran her fingertip over his bottom lip that she’d watched him nibble on earlier. “You’re going to be one of those young, sexy professors whose classes fill up every semester with girls and guys who want to stare at you and think all kinds of dirty thoughts.”

Sam slid his hand down her back until he got to her ass and squeezed. “Are you jealous already?” His other hand was still holding her head, and he pulled her mouth down to his. He kissed her deeply, swirling his tongue around hers until she felt his cock start to stiffen beneath her. Then he trailed a line of kisses across her cheek to her ear and whispered, “Don’t worry. I don’t want anybody else in my bed. Don’t want to feel anybody else tight around me, making me come.”

Y/N felt her stomach get all tight and fluttery, and her core started to tingle. He pulled back, and she saw his eyes were dark with desire. “I want to make you come now, Sam.” She pushed his sweatshirt up to get to his belt and started to unbuckle it. When she finished unbuckling and unzipping, Sam lifted his hips and pushed down his jeans and underwear. His cock was semi hard, long, thick, and beautiful. Y/N lowered herself to her knees in front of him and took his cock in her hand, loving the feel and the weight of it as she held it. Then she took it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip before swallowing it down until it touched the back of her throat.

Sam stretched his arms across the top of the sofa and lay his head back against it, letting out a deep satisfied sigh. She bobbed her head on him until he was fisting the back of the sofa and calling out her name. She fondled his balls while she sucked and licked until she felt his hand on the back of her head. “Y/N, wait.” She looked up at him and slipped her mouth from his leaking dick. “I want to come inside you. Make you feel good too.”

He stripped off his sweatshirt and pulled her to him, crashing his mouth on hers in a hungry kiss. “I want you, Y/N. Take your clothes off for me.” She broke the kiss and started a striptease for him. Slowly, she pulled her shirt up and off. Sam’s eyes raked over her breasts and the silky red, holiday perfect, bra she was wearing with a tiny bow in the middle. 

He licked his lips while Y/N reached behind her back to undo the clasps. She slipped the straps seductively down her arms, exposing her breasts to him. “Do you want a taste, Sam?” He lowered his head to her chest and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Sam had made her come before just using his mouth and hands on her breasts, and what he was doing to her right now made her think it might happen again. “Oh fuck, Sam. That feels amazing.” She grabbed the back of his head to hold him to her. He continued to lick and tease her hardened nub with his teeth while he eased his hand down into her pants.

He found her clit and began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. The double stimulation had her writhing and begging him for release. “Please, Sam. Make me come. I need it.” 

He switched breasts and started to suck on the other one while his fingers rolled and flicked the nipple still wet from the attention his tongue had given it. Meanwhile, his hand in her pants started to move faster, rushing her closer to the climax she wanted. “C’mon, baby. Do it. I want to feel you come on my fingers.” She shuddered as her orgasm pulsated through her, and she coated Sam’s fingers with her juices.

As her high faded, she went soft under Sam’s touch, and he took her in his arms. “Do you know how hot you look when you come for me like that?”

“No, but I’m glad you like it.” She put her head on his shoulder to catch her breath. Her breathing was beginning to even out when she took his earlobe into her mouth. “I want more, Sam. I want to feel you splitting me open, pounding into me.” She bit down on his earlobe in her mouth hard enough to make him feel it in his growing cock. “Make me scream for you, Sam.”

Sam peeled off her remaining clothes and tossed them on the floor; his jeans and underwear followed. His cock was twitching, hard against his stomach in anticipation. Y/N climbed on top of him and lined his thick shaft up with her entrance, sinking down onto it until she was fully impaled and could feel him pushing against her cervix. She started to ride him, and Sam lifted his hips, thrusting them upward in time with her movements. 

Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and hooked his arm under her leg, opening her wide to his now harder and deeper thrusts. His pubic bone was hitting her clit, and she was clawing at his back while she clenched around him. “Sam. Oh, God. I’m gonna...I’m gonna come. Sam!” He covered her mouth with his hand, and she screamed into his palm. She came hard, and just when she was coming down from her climax, he emptied inside her. His hot come coated her inside and triggered another orgasm as strong as the one she’d just had. 

Sam took his hand from her mouth, lowered her leg, and nuzzled his nose into the side of her neck. He whispered against her skin, “You are completely beautiful.” He kept talking to her as he slipped from her body and rolled onto his back, settling her on top of him. He reached for the throw with the Celtic knot pattern he’d put on the back of the sofa earlier and covered her with it. 

Y/N smiled and kissed his chest. “You were planning this, weren’t you?”

Sam was running his fingers through her hair. “A guy can hope.” 

Y/N sighed with contentment. “I was hoping for this too.” She kissed his chest again. “I could barely focus on anything watching you and thinking about what we could be doing instead.”

Sam was still playing with her hair; he had gotten quiet. Y/N could sense the change in his mood. She raised her head to look down at him. “Sam, are you okay?”

She saw him swallow hard; his eyes had gotten reflective and sensitive, about as far from the passionate intensity that had been in them just minutes before as they could get. “I’m gonna be in graduate school at Christmas next year. I don’t know where, but...Y/N, will you go with me?” 

He was brushing his thumb across her cheek, waiting for her to say something. The wheels in his mind were still turning; she could see them. She was so surprised at his question that her response was, “You want me to come with you, move to wherever you’re going? Are you asking me to live with you?” 

His finger stopped moving on her cheek. “Yeah. I want you with me... because I love you.” 

Y/N looked into his eyes; the lights from the tree were shining in them. He was serious. “Oh my God, Sam.” 

He started to sit up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“No.” She put her hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving any more.  “I mean yes. I want to go with you. I want to be with you.” A smile started to spread across Sam’s face. With her next words, his dimples bloomed. “I love you too.”

Y/N kissed Sam again in the quiet of the bookstore; it was the first time she kissed him knowing he loved her and knowing they had a future together. The sign by the door said, Knowledge is yours if you seek it. She believed now the same was true of love. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness 

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @wendibird @team-free-will-you-idjiot @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner @neii3n @supernatural-took-me-over @julesthequirky​

[starlightshore]

Is there any evidence that Chara is an abuse victim? It's a very popular headcanon and I want to understand why

hrm. ok let me preface this with a couple of things: one, i actually answered this same question a couple weeks ago (week ago? time means nothing to me) on AFR but i got triggered by continuous use of the topic and people wouldn’t stop talking after i asked multiple times for us to stop. (no bad blood to anyone involved) this is only relevant because its the same question, and I want to make it clear I am fine with talking about this topic, and I will say if or when it’s stressing me out. I am not against talking about dark themes, and at the moment I am calm and fine.

I want everyone to know that this is a triggering topic and i specifically am susceptible to this and it’s surrounding themes, so please try to read the room I’m creating on this topic and give me the proper space.

i say that all ahead of time because I do not want to get triggered or talk about child abuse/death/suicide at length. this ask is fine. maybe a couple more if it’s brief and not asking me to do further research.

secondly, I want to talk about UT canon real quick. UT, for the most part, relies on text to spell out it’s history and world. characters don’t walk on screen and say: I’m Chara Dreemurr. I was born on September 15th 2003. I’m nonbinary and use they/them.” like no, characters live in the moment and yes their past define them, but they got bigger things to worry about and talk about current things. maybe they’ll refer to past things, but never bluntly.

--putting under read more. discussion of child abuse, self harm, and other ingame dark topics. This is mainly a character analysis

So, either you infer from what’s available or you search the wiki/playthrough/text dumps. The very act of playing no mercy route has lore in itself, if you account for player theory and other factors I’m not getting into here. Anyway, Undertale is a very Deep and loaded game with lots of world building built into every nook and cranny. (just spend 5 minutes on semi-frequent undertale facts if you’re curious to this rabbit hole)

Anyway point being, Chara is the narrator. this is fact. “it’s me, Chara.” They outright say it. I hate when people call it theory when it’s more explicit than most things in game.

anyway, the main flavor text i want to point to is this:

* "Faded Ribbon" - Armor DF 3 * If you're cuter, monsters  won't hit you as hard. 

So here’s a couple things I want to talk about first. Yes, monsters fight and that is normal.

* But they will never know  the joy of expressing  themselves through magic.* They'll never get a bullet-   pattern birthday card... 

It’s 10000% likely that Chara dealt with monster fights when alive. And that most likely lead to culture shock and confusion, but with Toriel (lmao, she outright scares off a froggit from Frisk) by their side and being a royal, I highly doubt they were in any danger in that household.

point being, yes, monsters could of hurt them, I would think this mindset is more directed to humanity, rather than monsterkind. You can read it more bluntly that it’s about monsters after all, t does specify monsters here. My counter point is that is to foreshadow how monsters are weaker beings who are more in-tuned with their magic-based bodies and are susceptible to intent, and likewise their magic reflects their own intent.

So yeah, I think it reflects to Chara’s general history and mindset to wanting to appear more tolerable to avoid pain, be it physical abuse or fear of being human. Chara, who calls themself a demon and hated humanity passionately, would be fully aware they are human. When welcomed to a very loving monster family, they didn’t want to ruin the prophetic angelic image they placed on them. They knew with their own imperfect behavior, that they were doomed to fail them.

This can be inferred from how both Toriel and Asgore wear the deltarune (Toriel’s robes, Asgore’s armor makes the wings and their homes in both games have the symbol). Gerson talks about how either the Deltarune Angel (someone who has seen the surface and returned) would either free them or destroy them all. Chara, who the underground believed to be that Angel, was put on this huge pedestal that clearly both parent’s believed in.

We know Toriel represents Integrity,

* someone who sincerely  likes bad jokes...* has an integrity  you can't say  "no" to. 

(along with being refereed to in the blue color of text)

and by both (points in DR’s direction) and this line from her when allowing Frisk to go past the ruins:

My expectations... My loneliness... My fear...For you, my child... I will put them aside.

Toriel says expectations first. It’s clearly a huge part of her motivation. I absolutely see how this pressure not only was put on Chara, but Asriel as well. This isn’t a hate letter to Toriel btw, but rather an examination of her parenting that led to the main tragedy of the game. It’s a cautionary tale. Toriel was not prepared for adopting a suicidal preteen.

speaking of which! back to the whole point of this post.

* I know why (Chara) climbed the mountain.

*(Chara) hated humanity.* Why they did, they  never talked about  it.* But they felt very strongly about  that.

 Now I want to say that Chara hating humanity enough to run away to kill themself doesn’t strictly mean they were abused, but wow! Chara is seriously mentally ill (and frankly, yes, children can be are suicidal) and I don’t think that level of suffering happens for no reason.

* The ends of the tools have  been filed down to  make them safer.* Seems like gardening tools.

* Where are the knives.

The gardening tools in Toriel’s home are dulled and there are no knives in the kitchen. These are actions one takes when their child self harms, this isn’t precautions based in them being literal infants. Chara I imagine was closer to 10/12 age range than Baby. (what baby knows what a tsundere is?)

All these paint a picture of a child who self harms, who violently hates humanity and wanted to kill their (likely) abusers. I’ve also seen someone suggest the fact that FIGHT is your first option in the game in itself reflects how Chara’s first instinct is to Fight first. Both Frisk and Chara are heavily influenced by the player’s actions (both literal and in a parental/guardian like influence) and we see this thru Chara’s outlook changes depending on LV, as well how Frisk feels about violence. (dogfood bag being half full/empty, punching mad dummy in the dump)

Using the themes of the game and backstory/context, we can see how Chara has been taught violence as a viable option. I’d link that more to their pre-underground as Monsterkind as a society preaches mercy and uses bullets not as a murderous tool, but as self expression.

Again, I don’t want to say that just because a child is mentally ill and self harms, doesn’t mean they were abused but I don’t think it’s out of line as a reasoning for it. Yes, sometimes you’re just born with such mental illness, but I choose to interpret the faded ribbon dialogue + their own desire to fight/kill as something taught by example. It fits the themes. It’s more realistic to see Chara as someone who’s been hurt and has learned to hurt in return. (AND that does not mean abuse victims are therefore doomed to become abusers! chara is a child first and thru the pacifist route they’re just as merciful as Frisk! It’s a character arc)

and just to be absolutely clear because I KNOW how tumblr handles nuance sometimes, I am speaking as a former abused and suicidal child. Making that clear that when I say this is how I read the text, it’s not just me speculating on the game’s content but on a real life knowledge of how this shit works. Chara very, very much reads an abused and depressed child who just wanted to fulfill the prophecy for the sake of their family’s freedom.

With almost killing Asgore on accident, Chara realizes that they are an evil human and the only way to free their people is to die violently. (don’t look up buttercup poisoning side effects, it’s bad.) Chara didn’t need to die to escape. They could of killed any of the dreemurrs, but they chose to die horrifically. It’s common for those who are suicidal that they’ll want to die before people see them in a negative light.

also couldn’t really fit this earlier but hell, this is long anyway so I might as well say this here. I think we can also infer Chara’s hatred for humanity grew with learning the history of monsterkind. The books harshly say human souls are different and it’s possible they may not even naturally have compassion and love, or at least, are not required to have it. Humans sealed monsters underground and commited actual genocide against them. (and i don’t use that word lightly. the no mercy route isn’t a genocide, please don’t use that term for that. esp don’t lighten such a heavy and real-word term to a frickin video game route oh my god)

We have this repeating theme of society’s influence on children and how cycles of pain continue. What is “in this world, it’s kill-or-be-killed“ but a statement on society? I’ve discussed before that I think it’s very likely Chara said those words to Asriel as they were being murdered, and how the very system that put Chara into this path was human society that both failed Chara and monsterkind all those years ago. The game’s message is that you must not kill, and you must not be killed in return. That there is a third option, and that even in dire circumstances if you use 7 virtues and are determined enough, you can avoid war and make peace. This isn’t to say self defense is bad, Undyne the Undyning is framed as a hero, and cruel/corrupt rulers should be disposed of (king spade)

this got a little off topic but I thought it was fun to write about. The game’s main theme is built around that phrase, it’s Asriel’s character arc of him learning thru Frisk/Chara/Player that in this world, despite everything, you don’t have to kill or be killed.

TLDR; Chara is implied to hate humanity so strongly they were willing to die horrifically to free monsterkind and fulfill the angel’s prophecy. the game depicts them as a very mentally ill child and with the addition of the faded ribbon text + desire to FIGHT, Chara likely learned this mindset before falling underground. looking at the themes of the game and chara’s backstory, we can infer and take a guess at who they were and what the game is trying to say. Undertale is a good game and has a good moral. That’s my TedTalk

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.9

TW Purposeful misgendering of MC, and overall skeevy first POV.

MC is agender and here I started this chapter with the POV of someone out right misgendering them.

Capital He/Him pronouns are associated with Slender.

He was angry, but then again when wasn't He. You've wasted too much time on “laying low”. And now He's getting impatient, you're starting to hear whispers about potential replacements and incompetency. First you fuck up your mission then you gave Him the subpar sacrifice of that dumb hippie. He didn't want her, He wanted her. Her being your current and original target.

The girl who moved to town in the middle of March, YN. Didn't wait for the month to end or come the first week of the new one. Such a strange time to move...almost as if she was running away from something. He had taken an interest in her immediately. You didn't see what was so special about her, just another mousy girl in a small town, very obedient from what you saw.

Maybe that's what caught His attention. A new little puppet to add to His collection...but His urgency with this task didn't really fit. You knew for a fact He wasn't human but...could He have desires of the flesh? Was this a twisted perversion of your god's? The fuzzy feeling in your head gets painful at the thought.

'Ok, you aren't after some ass.' you think trying to appease Him.

It doesn't work, your apology is almost as worthless as you are to Him in this moment. You've really been testing Him lately, understandably this is your last chance so to speak. Bring Him YN or you won't be His problem much longer.

A chill runs down your spine at the ill intent you feel through your contract.

You're working on it, really you are. But she's so stupid and air headed it will take a while to break her for Him to be able to properly mold her. Not to mention she seems to have acquired a new guard dog. One that seems to have problems staying still, yet will spend hours watching her.

You'd seen him around town a few times in the past week or two, he has two other companions who aren't as bad about keeping low profiles. Yeah, you'd seen each of them at her house at one point or another. The short one seemed to have a nasty habit of slinking into her home in the dead of night as she slept. He didn't seem to go in during her drives, only when she'd be there. The tall one would come in the early morning or middle of the day, either to retrieve his partner or to snoop around inside for a bit before leaving. Aside from his partner he never seemed to leave with anything, never went in with anything either. They weren't leaving traces so they couldn't be your replacements.

Even if they had been they didn't seem too tough, you could over take them easy. Show Him you were still good for something.

But worst of all was her fucking mutt. He'd just circle the outside of the house, inspecting it. For what you have no clue, but he kept at it like he had a keen eye and could detect the slightest change of the home. One day he started looking off into the tree line and you'd almost swear he knew where you were. And while his nearly all black eyes made you think he was your replacement, intimidating you, your god suggested otherwise.

Reminding you that they weren't breaking her down for Him. That was your job.

Not only was the twink annoyingly thorough when at her home but he seems to have followed her to work today. You hope this isn't a new habit for him, you'll need to catch YN off guard at some point and you can't do that with that stupid twitching bastard around.

He bought two books and YN had seemed surprised when he came up to chat with her after finishing the first one. She's not your normal type but you can't deny she is cute talking so excitedly, you really wish that fucking mask was off her face so you could see her plump lips move. Come to think of it, twitchy was also wearing a mask. Is that why she talks so freely with him? Was all you had to do to get close to her was wear a mask? Or did she have a little crush on this guy?

No, she's speaking the same way she would with one of the Hornets. He however has a certain look in his eye while they talk. Maybe someone does have a crush...Or maybe he's just a disgusting stalker like you are. Were, like you were that is before your god saw the potential in you. And blessed you as one of his followers.

If he is a creepy little stalker tailing her you could let him do the breaking, and then you'd swoop in for the kill. Would that take too long? Better yet would your god even be happy with the idea. He can get very touchy about plans, down to the tiniest details too. You've witnessed first hand what He does to those who leave gaps for targets to get through.

Reprogramming doesn't seem pleasant. But that'll be the least of your worries if you don't get a move on with delivering Him His choice of offering. In the years you've been of service to your god...you don't recall Him ever choosing his offering. A target yes of course plenty, but His next puppet or a special meal. No this was big, testing your worth probably, very big.

'And you're failing.' that voice isn't yours.

'How, astute.' He's chatty today. That's always a bad thing. For you anyway.

You turn your attention to the bookshop across the street, coffee shops make such great covers especially when you add a laptop and act as though you're writing a novel, no one spares you a glance. It's five and that means quitting time, maybe YN wouldn't go home right away. You could run into her and plant some seeds of paranoia in her.

Mess with her head, have her freak out and cause a scene in town to discredit her further in the future. Your typical MO. After all she is just the simple new girl in town, and small town residents don't trust easy.

'This should be fun.' you think as you pack up your computer and notebook.

Heading to your car you wait in the parking lot for a moment, making it look as though you were busy with your phone while you waited to see that ugly yellow car drive in one direction or another. It doesn't take long before you catch sight of the brightly colored Kia taking the road towards the general store.

Wonderful, one humiliating panic attack in public coming up. This was something you could manage perfectly on your own. Though maybe once your god was more pleased with you, you'd ask for His assistance in giving her a few more hallucinations. After all the faster she's broken down the faster He gets what He wants.

Once at the small store you park one space away from her Kia. Normally for targets you prefer if they don't notice your car but it's not like there's room to go else where in this parking lot. Just as you're about to make your way inside, you hear more murmuring.

How the hell are you supposed to do His bidding when all He seems to want to do is keep interfering? It's getting so frustrating that you're starting to question your god's intelligence.

For your insolence you are hit hard with the worst migraine you've ever gotten since taking up a contract with Him.

'You are not the only one following them.' is the biting retort.

Moving your head despite the pain, you scan the store through squinted eyelids as you stand just out of your car. And you catch sight of him, that twitching guard dog from before. He hasn't noticed you but he seems to be sharing a cart with YN.

Did she get a boyfriend? Were you just unaware of that detail this entire time? She seems too relaxed with him for that to be anything else. They look too domestic together, you'll have fun ripping them apart. She'll probably cry like the bitch she is when you do, that's a very nice picture.

'Leave.' what now?

'Leave before he catches on to you.' The twitchy twink? You could take him in a fight, kid is practically all bones, why should you leave?

Instead of an answer your migraine intensifies. For the first time in years you are racked with so much pain that you would've collapsed on the ground if your car hadn't been near to steady yourself.

A chime of a bell sounds, “Hey pal you alright there?”, it's just Leo. Luckily you've never shopped at his store so likely hood of him knowing who you are or mentioning this to anyone isn't high.

“Ah...yeah,” you say through the wincing, “real bad migraine.”

“I got some Excedrin-”

“I'll just come back later.” you cut him off and get back into your car. Movement isn't easy for you under all this pain but you can feel His presence in your mind gaining control. You'll either wake up back in your bed or on the forest floor covered in blood and ticks. You really hope it isn't the last one as you black out just as you turn onto 3rd Avenue.

Leo comes back into the store almost as soon as he ran out.

“Everything ok?” you ask. You'd seen the man run out when you turned around to ask if he had gluten free vegetable stock.

“Yea, some tourist must'a got car sick or somethin'.” you nod at his gruff reply.

“Oh, do you have any gluten free vegetable stock?”

The old man eyes you warily.

“Kid don' tell me ya got on one a those fad diets.”

“No it's for the Picnic next week. I wanted to make an all diet friendly foragers pie.” you said shaking your head, which snaps right twice. Behind you you hear a muffled clucking coming from Toby.

Toby had hung out at the shop with you today. After he read through The Son of Neptune the two of you had discussed the series for a bit before you almost let some spoiler slip through. Toby couldn't help but laugh when you pushed him into a reading nook to finish reading the series before you ruined it for him. He got two thirds of The Mark of Athena done before you clocked out for the day.

While leaving he mentioned he needed to go shopping and asked where the grocery store in town was because he hadn't seen one in the area. You offered to take him to Leo's shop because it had everything you could need and was a small local business. Like most things in Kepler but there was a Trader Joe's that opened up in town, and they don't have much to offer when you cook from scratch. So here you were shopping together.

“I think we have organic no clue if it's vegan though.”

“Gluten free.” Leo rolls his eyes in dismissal and goes off to find the organic broth for you.

“Was there anything else you needed to grab?” you asked turning to look at Toby.

He had a list with him and had been ripping small tears to cross off what he'd gotten. He nods once then twice as his eyes find items he had yet to find, until they stop near the bottom of the list. Toby's dark brown eyes roll so hard you're pretty sure they rolled to the back of his skull. He lets out a dramatic 'agh' sound at whatever was on the list. Before crumbling it and tossing it into the cart.

“Atomic Fireballs and eggs. Can you grab the candy? Some people get pissy about their eggs.” he says cutting his eyes to the cooler containing eggs. This is probably a regular argument with the group.

With a small nod and an “mmhmm” you run off to the candy isle. You smell the cinnamon candy before you even see the container on the shelf. Before running off back to Toby and the cart, you pause debating if you should grab some M&Ms or chocolate chips to make cookies for tomorrow's movie night. You had stress eaten the snacks you bought last week only having the Surge left for Kirby, like hell you would drink it yourself.

After the week you've had baking sounded really nice. The mind numbing activity would probably be therapeutic since you haven't baked in so long. You grab two of the bigger bottles of mini M&Ms they always taste better to you, plus mini cookies tend to be a bigger hit than their regular sized counter parts. On your way to the front of the store you pass an end cap for chips. Seeing the white cheddar popcorn you like you grab a bag to replace the one you ate earlier in the week.

You should be set now, as long as Leo had the broth. If he didn't gluten free broth seems like something the Trader Joe's would have.

Toby's already at the counter with Leo, who had a box of broth off to the side. Noice. You place the Atomic candy on the counter with the rest of Toby's items. Leo looks between the two of you but brushes off whatever thought or comment he had.

“This it for you kid?”Leo has already begun ringing him out.

You see the movement of Toby's mouth open while he double checks the cart, he closes it when he sees the wad of paper. He must have forgotten something. Going over your own list you double check to make sure you have everything before it's your turn.

“N-n-n-no, can I-I-I get two boxes of condoms? St-s-st-standard and Large.” Toby's popping his knuckles a little more aggressively than normal, well what you've equated to normal for Toby.

'Oh.' the add ons sort of surprise you, but his exaggerated sigh from earlier makes more sense. Why did you even think that eggs caused that sort of reaction? It was probably because he was gonna have to ask for condoms in front of you. His new friend, nearly a stranger. Toby's agitated tics and stuttering are very valid right now.

You miss the look Leo gives you but Toby doesn't and when Leo looks back at him his tics get more frequent.

Looking to Toby when his 'mrrow' tic keeps repeating, you see the tips of his ears are a soft pink. A stark contrast to their normally grayish white complexion. Wanting to help but knowing he's most likely just embarrassed you decide to say nothing and ignore the situation. Thankfully Leo doesn't make any type of comment either as he finishes ringing out Toby and hands him his receipt.

“This it kid?” He says as he starts checking out your items.

“Um...ah, what's the pizza today?” this week isn't your normal pizza week but with the Picnic being next weekend you probably won't do pizza next week. And you have to have a slice ready for Chonk, least he decides to see what human taste like.

“Spinach and mushroom, a white pizza.”

“Yea I'll take one of those then please.”

“Garlic crust?” How very dare this man. What kind of question is that.

“Of course.”

He leaves to the back of the store yet again to retrieve your pizza. There's a silence that falls over the store as he leaves, leaving only you and Toby out front. Not an awkward type of silence but you definitely aren't going to risk a glance at Toby right now.

“I threw in an extra for that stray you've been feeding.” He says as he returns. Toby having calmed down a bit scoffs at the stray comment.

“That isn't a-a-a stray it's a fucking dem-mon.”

“Ok like that's fair, but he is kinda cute.”

“I don't care what it is, just keep it away from my store.” Leo finishes ringing you up. “Bad for business to have a wild animal rooting through the garbage.” Leo doesn't care about that stuff he also fears Chonk, and all his trash panda glory.

Once you settled your tab with Leo you and Toby go out to your car. You place his items in the backseat while you take the trunk, so no one goes home with the wrong item. Stars forbid you end up with the condom bag and have to awkwardly give that to Toby or even worse Brian or Tim. You've had four interactions with the man but already you can hear Brian's teasing banter.

Getting situated in the car you hand your phone to Toby to pick the music. You'd left your entire library open this time and not just the home page, you wanted to see if he'd pick something different or just go with the last thing played. He did scroll a bit before just clicking the last played playlist. Well at least he looked, maybe you'd make a playlist and see what he liked. He could just enjoy the songs.

While you're stuck at the light waiting to turn you remember consciously that Saturday Night Dead is tomorrow. You wonder if the trio would be joining you all. Wouldn't hurt to ask.

“Hey so are you guys coming over to the Cryptonomica tomorrow night?”

“Tim and Brian are.” Toby's eyes glance at the window as he picks at the skin around his nails.

“Oh. Why aren't you coming?” you hope you don't sound too pushy.

“Hi, I'm Toby I have Tourette's.” He says in a deadpan.

“Nice to meet you, I'm YN I have Autism.” you sass back cutting your eyes to him, “and I have tics too remember.”

“You can sit beside me. The gang never mentions my ticcing or stimming during a movie and I sit in the corner to be less of a distraction.”

From the corner of your eye you can see he peeled off a bit of skin and is now bleeding. When you slow down at the light you reach over him to the glove box and pull out a box of band-aids. Tossing the box in his lap you focus back on the road. There's a cracking sound when Toby's shoulder pop from a tic but other than that you two fall into a lull in the conversation.

From the corner of your eye you see Toby put the box in the cup holders between you. This little shit, just because he doesn't feel pain doesn't mean picking his skin is a healthy fidget.

“...I..I'll think about it.” he's still picking at his skin but maybe reassurance will help him calm down.

“Well, I hope I see you tomorrow then,” you can't help the grin on your face, you're just a touch giddy at the fact you've made a friend this fast. “No pressure though.” can't be too pushy you might scare him off.

You hear a huff as he turns more of his body to look out the window. He isn't upset his energy feels calm almost excited, it's nice to meet someone who isn't so confusing with their actions. Though you'd wish he wouldn't try to hide them. Maybe you both have the same idea of not wanting to overwhelm the other right away. You get the feeling this situation...your blooming friendship with Toby, it isn't something he's use to.

Getting to the RV you help Toby carry in the groceries, despite his protests that he can do it. It was just machismo of course, because once inside the RV you noticed how clean it was for three bachelors and their huge dog living in it. Sure there were dishes in the sink but dishes are a care chore that never ended. There was very little clutter that you saw but you also weren't paying close attention since you were just helping bring in groceries and not here for a visit. It would be rude to look, you think.

Once all of the boys' bags were brought in and either on the counter or table you saw a majority of them had blood smears all on the handles. Fucking Toby, you gave him band-aids for a reason.

“Tobais you're bleeding.”

“Thanks Captain obvious.” you want to smack him.

“Do you guys have a first aid kit?”

“Nope.” he sounds so smug when he pops the 'p' sound.

“Ok, then I'll go get the band-aids out of my car and you wash your hands.”

“Don'-uwu- Don't worry about it.”

You have to bite your lip so you don't laugh but the small stream of air coming from your nose let Toby know you were laughing. Despite his mask you can see his pout clearly when he turns to you.

“I...I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't...but it's too,” your giggling is breaking down your ability to speak, “cute.”

The grumpy face sort of melts off of the boy in front of you, but you can tell by the vibes he's still touchy. You try to calm yourself but quickly realize you aren't giggling anymore because of his tic.

“C'mon it isn't even that funny.” he says gruffly, before looking off to the side.

“No...it's,” you keep shaking your head as the movement doesn't stop. The loop won't stop and you're starting to tear up from the muscles in your abdomen seizing up then relaxing in repetition.

Toby seems to realize what's happened.

“No fucking way.” is all he says as he comes closer to your still giggling form. “A giggling tic?” You can only nod, you're starting to get light headed. Toby noticing you starting to crouch down, helps ease you to sit. He stays by your side as you both wait for the tic to cease.

He even tries rubbing a hand on your back to soothe you into calming down. You'll need to tell him physical comfort doesn't really help you. It's still sweet of him to try.

Unlike a laughing fit that will have a gradual die down of the action, your laughing tic has an abrupt stop. But you feel just as tired and even more sick than someone who just got out of a laughing fit. Breath coming out hitched though you try to gasp in more air to soothe your impending headache. Your face is red and covered in tear stains, once again you are thankful for your mask. This isn't a tic you get often but you probably hate this one the most, just from how drained it leaves you.

Toby continues to rub circles into your back as your breathing starts to even. Eventually he gets up to grab you some water. You notice it's quiet in the RV, not even Connor is around Brian must have him today.

“That was probably karma.” he says as he hands you the glass. Looking up to him confused he continues, “For teasing me about my tic.”

“But I w-wa-,” you take a large gulp of water for the raspiness of your voice, “I wasn't teasing. I just thought 'uwu' was a cute vocal tic.” you say indignantly.

Really you had only thought the verbal tic was cute. Also it'd been a while since you heard 'uwu' said aloud so it caught you off guard.

“Not as cute as a giggling tic.” who's teasing who now.

“Haha, don't get used to it doesn't happen often.”

After settling down from you tic it's time to head home. You really don't want to over stay your welcome. The fatigue is also starting to set in and you want to get home before it really hits.

Toby is nothing if not a gentleman you've noticed. And he continues to be on brand as he walks you back to your car.

“So thanks for that.” vaguely motioning as if to say 'y'know' with your hands rather than your words. Toby knows, you can tell from that boyish glint in his eyes.

“Hope to see you tomorrow night.” you say getting back into your car.

“It's sounding better now.” there's a pause, “Get home safe.” he slaps the interior of your window before backing away from your car altogether.

With a final wave you back out back onto the old dirt road and drive on home. When you get home you realize you never patched up Toby's hand, now you have a small bloodstain on your door.

[keanureevesisbae]

So Henry, you want to start a YouTube channel? - Chapter 1

Summary: Twenty five year old YouTuber Sandy Choi has no idea that one of her five million subscribers is the one and only Henry Cavill. When he asks her to help him out with starting his own YouTube channel, she falls more and more in love with her. But she should’ve known that dating one of the most desirable bachelors, does come with a prize.

Henry Cavill x Sandy Choi (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, please let me know xx

Masterlist // Channel introduction // Previous chapter // Next chapter 

It is finally done. I somehow finished the final edits of my newest novel. I mean, I love the book with all my heart and I do think that it’s one of the best books I’ve ever written so far, but if I have to read it one more time, I’m going to scream. In about a week, the advanced reader copies will go to the first beta readers. It’s a nerve wrecking part, but it does mean that the moment my book is going to be on the shelves, is one step closer.

To celebrate this glorious event, I decide to go my favorite cafe and edit my next YouTube video. Other people meditate, do yoga or get some exercise in to relax. For me editing is my form of relaxation.

Never in a million years would I have imagined that I would have five million subscribers. Five million people around the globe enjoy watching my vlogs, while I highly doubt I’m that interesting. Sure, I nowadays do photoshoots, some editorials and I still dance quite a lot, but besides that, I’m homebody, who writes a lot and to get out of the house, visits cafes.  

I grab my backpack and start packing my laptop, the charger and my AirPods. I’m tempted to bring my Nintendo Switch with me, so I can play some Animal Crossing (I’ve been kind of neglectful of my island, sorry Tom Nook), but I leave my Switch in its charger.

Before I leave my apartment, I take a quick selfie, to upload for my Instagram Stories. It’s just a simple mirror selfie, showing off my outfit. Since it’s pretty hot outside (it’s July tenth and London has been trapped in a very intense heatwave), I opted for some high waisted denim shorts, a simple white crop top and some matching white sneakers. I do bring a white blazer with me, since the cafe usually has its air-conditioning on and I don’t want to freeze to death.

To be honest, before I got famous on YouTube, I never was impressed with my looks, my style or my life really. I had to celebrate my twenty first birthday alone, to realize I was pretty much wasting my life. Because of the weather, my plans to travel back to my family were cancelled and when I was staring at the cupcake with one candle on it, I realized I barely had memories from my time in college and I was already in year two.

I started to document certain moments in my life, but with all the footage I had of one whole week, I could make a two minute video out of it. But everything I filmed, had to be extravagant and then I asked myself: why does it have to be extravagant to be important enough to film? I should live my own life like I’m the main character, not a side character. I should romanticize life more. All of the sudden, I began noticing how beautiful the sky would look when I went outside for a walk, how the flowers start to bloom when it’s spring and how cozy certain cafes are.

When I uploaded my first YouTube video, I barely had subscribers, but all of the sudden more than thousand people thought my life was interesting enough to watch and a whole year later, I had 200k subscribers. I always figured that it would stay around that number, but once I graduated, published a book and moved to London, my subscriber count went up with a rapid speed. My 500k subscriber hit was unbelievable, my one million subscriber hit was beyond me, but hitting five million subscribers… It’s weird and thank God I have now reached a certain plateau, because seeing my subscriber count going up with the speed that it went back in the day, scared the living shit out of me.  

Once I’m at my favorite cafe, I order a cappuccino and some vanilla cake, before I sit down and get ready for some editing. I used to spend way too much time on editing my videos, but now I finally have found a way to be more efficient.

Time ticks by. I see multiple people leave, I order some ice tea and another soda to keep hydrated and finally I take my AirPods out and put them in their case. I’ve been here for a few hours now and I maybe should leave. I don’t want to overstay my welcome here.

Before I can get up, my phone rings and I pick up when I see it’s Lacey. We met on the plane to London. She went to UCLA, but moved back to England after she was done with school. She told me about what she was going to do in London—becoming a librarian and honestly, that’s a dream—and somehow we hit it off. She was my first and only friend here in London. Of course, through her I met multiple people that I like, but I’m always a bit awkward around them, just like I’m shy around practically anyone I have never met.

‘Hi La—’

‘I have a new fling and he is having a party tonight,’ she simply interrupts me.

‘So much for a hello,’ I chuckle. ‘What fling was this again?’

‘This is the guy I met at the zoo.’ For someone who is a librarian, she meets an awful lot of guys. When I think of a librarian, I think of an older lady with a pencil skirt and grey hair in an updo, but not Lacey, who rocks short skirts like no other. She usually has a new guy every week, but the guy from the zoo… I don’t know if I remember correctly, but I think he is around for more than a week.

‘Hasn’t he been around for like two weeks?’ I ask her.

‘Yes, he is.’

‘And you aren’t tired of him yet?’ I start to pack my bag, while I clutch the phone between my ear and shoulder. ‘What was his name again?’

‘His name is Jackson and he is such a handsome guy, so you want to join us for the party? You can say no, Sandy, because this guy has parties every other week.’

‘I just finished my deadline for the new book,’ I say. ‘I think I just want to chill at home, to be honest.’

‘Totally understand. You are one a hard working woman and I know that parties can be pretty stressful for you.’ I can hear her smile through her voice. ‘I’m really proud of you for finishing that book, always remember that.’

‘Thanks, Lacey. Say hi to Jackson from me and tell him I’ll meet him soon. If he is still around then, of course.’

Lacey starts to laugh. ‘Oh, this one will be still around. I really like this guy and every morning, he sends me a good morning text, including a bad joke.’

‘That is oddly adorable.’ I wave to the barista’s as I leave the cafe. Shit, it’s hot. Like I’m stepping into an oven. Thank God I packed my white bucket hat and I put it on, to prevent my dark hair from frying my brain.

‘It is. Oh, he is calling me. Love you, doll.’

‘Love you too. Have fun tonight.’ I hang up the phone, while I move slowly through the streets of London. I’ve never really been a party type. For me it’s always a chore, never a pleasant event.

Being heavily introverted as I am, I enjoy my time reading on the couch, being by myself. Sometimes I wished I had an animal to keep me company, but my landlord is an asshole and prohibits any sort of pet. Maybe one day I can finally move out here, find myself a better place and become happy there with a nice dog.

Maybe tonight I can film my newly updated evening routine. I haven’t done that in ages and a lot has changed since the last time I did it. For a second I’m doubting my earlier decision of not going to the party with Lacey, but I shake off that thought.

Tonight I’m staying home.

As usual.

⟢⟡⟣

Who needs an alarm, when the sun can wake you up, nearly blinding you in the process? I roll around in my bed and am about to drift away again, continuing the beautiful dream of me being wrapped in Henry Cavill’s thick arms on this Sunday morning, when my phone rings.

Groaning I push myself up, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. I sigh deeply when I see it’s Lacey who video calls me. ‘Why on earth do you want to video chat with me?’ I ask her with a sleepy voice, still groggy from just waking up. I rub my eyes, hoping that that will wake me up. After I filmed my summer night routine, I fell fast asleep and when I look at my alarm clock, I slept a whole nine hours.

Well done, Sandy.

‘I have been trying to call you since five a.m.. Why aren’t you picking up your phone?’ Lacey asks impatiently, looking genuinely annoyed.

‘Sometimes I wonder if you even hear yourself. I was asleep at five a.m., as a normal person does.’

Lacey rolls her big doll like eyes. She actually looks like those porcelain dolls, the same ones that my creepy neighbor back home collected and put on display for the entire neighborhood to see. Blonde curls bounce around her face and for someone who partied the entire night, she actually looks really good and is way too awake. ‘I have a story for you and normally I don’t want to talk you into feeling guilty, but for this occasion I’ll make an exception.’

‘That doesn’t explain why you want to video chat with me.’

‘Just wait.’

I sit up straight in bed, placing a pillow against my back, so I can lean against the headboard. I pull my knees up to my chest, to lean my arm on. ‘Tell me, Lacey, what happened?’

‘So, I arrived at the party around eleven and Jackson was waiting for me at the door. He was being a true gentleman, kissed my cheek and when we walked inside, he kept introducing me to people, saying how at the end of the night, I was going to be his girl. To spoil the end for you: I am his girl now and we had steamy sex back at his place.’

As fantastic as that may sound for her, why does she the need to share this with me? I mean, I am happy for her that this Jackson guy is a nice guy and if she is actually going to date him, that’s great, but I don’t want to hear it. It’ll make me feel even more single.

‘Anyways, while Jackson is introducing me, I feel someone is staring at me. So I look around me, only to find one guy watching me. I try to squint you know, to see who that guy is and I think to myself: wow, that guy looks an awful lot like Henry Cavill.’

I start to chuckle. ‘How much did you have to drink at that moment?’

‘None, totally sober. Jackson pulls me with him and eventually introduces me to his friend Henry Cavill.’

Oh my God, I think I forgot how to breath. ‘You are telling me that the guy who you met at the zoo, who is probably more than just a fling to you and threw a party last night, is friends with the Henry Cavill?’

‘The same Henry Cavill you refuse to follow on Instagram, because you can’t handle that much gorgeousness on your feed.’

No need to attack me like that, I think to myself. I just woke up and was hit with the realization that I could’ve met Henry Cavill last night, but I didn’t want to go to a party. Tip for next time: always say yes when this Jackson guy is throwing a party.

‘Moving on with the story, Henry—yes, I’m on a first name basis with him—kept gawking at me and finally he asked me if we knew each other. I shrugged, telling him how I’m just a simple librarian, that usually doesn’t mingle with hot celebrities. Later on, I don’t know how exactly Jackson, Henry and I got to that topic, but I casually said something along the lines of that I’m friends with the Sandy Choi. Henry nearly loses all the color in his face and Jackson starts to laugh his ass off.’

Where is this story going? What the hell is going on?

Lacey starts to laugh out loud and manages to add: ‘Jackson tells me that mister Henry Cavill is a huge fan of yours and literally drops everything whenever you post a new video and how he had an almost heart attack when you mentioned him in your July first vlog. According to Jackson, he has been questioning your comment saying that you haven’t had your fair share of Henry Cavill today ever since.’

This isn’t happening. This honestly can’t be happening right now. Lacey is totally messing with me. ‘Sure.’

‘I can see you are questioning my fantastic story, so let me show you this then.’ She shares her screen with me and shows me a picture of her, this Jackson fella and Henry fucking Cavill, looking insanely handsome as he usually does. His hair is slightly growing out, revealing some lovely curls of his and he is wearing a white blouse. The buttons are hanging on for dear life. I’m mentally kicking myself. Why didn’t I go to this party? I mean, I would’ve probably embarrassed myself, but still: I could’ve admired him from a far. In real life.

Lacey stops sharing her screen with me and smiles widely in the camera. ‘And Jackson mentioned something about pressuring him into following you on Instagram and sliding into your DM’s, but mister Cavill is petrified of doing such thing, so… I decided to give him your number and I think he already texted you.’

I swipe the video chat away, while I start looking through my Whatsapp chats. I see I have some messages from my manager, my editor, my dad and an unknown number.

‘Did he text you?’

I click on the chat, ignore what it says and press on his profile picture. ‘It’s him,’ I say. ‘It’s really him.’ I admire the photo for a second. His thick and strong arms wrapped around his dog. God, I was dreaming about something like that just minutes ago and now all of the sudden, he has my number?

‘What did he write?’

I check the chat and see that the man wrote a paragraph, instead of multiple tiny texts. That is absolutely adorable.

‘I can see you and your grin,’ Lacey says, reminding me that I might’ve swiped away the video chat, she can indeed still see me. ‘Come on, Sandy, read it to me. I deserve to know what he wrote, since I’m the reason he has your number and texted you in the first place.’

She has a valid point and to be fair, I’d probably share it with her anyways. Best to do it now. ‘Hi Sandy, I swear I’m not a creepy stalker. I’m Henry Cavill and I met your friend Lacey at the party last night. She was kind enough to give me your number. I have no idea what she told you about last night, but I just wanted to let you know that your vlogs really help me to get through my days and that you are truly an inspiration to all young people out there.’

‘This is legit the cutest thing that has ever happened!’ Lacey squeals.

Though I agree, I keep staring at the text. This is what he thinks of me? He thinks I’m an inspiration to all young people out there? My videos help him through his day? ‘I’m going to hang up,’ I say to Lacey, ‘and figure out what to text him back.’

‘Wait,’ she says, ‘you’re not going to tell me what you texted back to Henry fucking Cavill?’

I pull up our video conversation again and shake my head. ‘No, I’m not. Thank you for giving him my number, Lacey, but please don’t make a habit out of it. Thank you. Love you. Bye.’

Before I can hear what she has to say, I hang up on her and look at his text again. My heartbeat is finally normalizing again, though my palms are still sweaty. I need to text him back, because that is a polite thing to do.

But what do I text back to a man like him, especially after he told me such a nice and lovely things? I mean, how do I top that? I can tell him the things I told Lacey whenever we would watch something that he starred in. I could say that I thought he was hot in the Witcher or that they should’ve included shirtless scenes of him in Mission Impossible. I could—

Oh my God, he is online!

I nearly die of panic, throwing my phone away from me on the bed. Maybe hanging up on Lacey was the dumbest thing I could’ve done. I need her help. She knows what she could say to him.

Lord knows how long I’m thinking about a response and I know that I should text him back. I finally wrote something and before I can regret it, I press send.

Sandy: Hi, Lacey indeed told me about last night. I honestly can’t believe that you watch my vlogs and that they help you get through your days. Hearing kind words like these from any subscriber honestly means the world to me 😊

And now we wait. He wasn’t online when I pressed send, so I probably won’t get an answer from him any ti—

Ping.

He already answered? Oh no, no, no, I have to let this moment sink in for a second. He can’t already texted me back. Please, let this be my mother, telling me I need to take my cod liver oil, please let this be her.

Henry Cavill: Do I want to know what she told you?

This sounds cheeky, I can handle cheeky. I can answer to this. I’m an adult woman, who is just texting with someone who is a fan. I can handle fan encounters.

Sort of.

Besides, I can think about the right response, so this is only in my advantage.

Sandy: Just that you are a big fan of my vlogs and drop everything when I post a new video.

Henry Cavill: Right, that’s not too bad, I guess.

Sandy: And that according to your friend Jackson, you almost had a heart attack when I mentioned you in my vlog and you have been questioning my fair share of Henry Cavill of today comment.

Henry Cavill: Great…

Sandy: It’s kind of flattering to be totally honest with you.

Henry Cavill: I’m just dying of embarrassment, give me a minute.

I can’t help but to chuckle. It’s weird, that I’m actually talking to Henry Cavill right now. Who would’ve ever thought that that would happen to me? I decide not to share the Instagram and sliding into my DM’s story that Lacey shared with me.

Sandy: I hope that Lacey haven’t told any embarrassing stories about me.

Henry Cavill: Just that you went to Mission Impossible: Fall Out three times in the cinema and that you commented all those three times that there wasn’t enough of me in it.

Okay, now it’s my turn to die of embarrassment. I feel like he is sparing me the need to fall into a deep hole of embarrassment, since he doesn’t mention Lacey adding to it that there wasn’t enough ass and the lack of shirtlessness on his part, because I said that all those three times as well. I know my friend and I know that she told him that.

Sandy: Right… I’m sorry.

Henry Cavill: It was pretty flattering and good for my ego 😉

⟢⟡⟣

Henry—yes I’m on a first name basis with him now as well, but I have yet to change his name in my phone—and his texts have caused tiny disasters around my apartment.

I burned my pancakes, because he kept distracting me with texts, causing the fire alarm to go off. Because I wanted to shut the thing up, I had to stand on a chair, but my brain was still with those texts, so I nearly broke my neck when I fell off it.

While I was filling the kettle with water, I forgot the tap was still running, causing the thing to overflow with water. I stubbed my toe not once, not twice, but three times on the same table leg.

But despite that, talking to Henry has been such a nice thing all morning and the first half of the afternoon. He keeps on complimenting me on my editing, saying what his favorite moments are in my vlogs, while I on my term share about the favorite moments of his interviews, his movies. It’s obvious that we are fans of one another, so having it out in the open, doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable.

But nothing prepares me for his latest text.

Henry Cavill: I’m going out for a walk with Kal, since it’s cooling down now. You want to join us?

I know I should answer him and I should answer him now, but I keep pacing around my living room. Going out with him on a walk, means talking to him. Like using my vocal cords to communicate with him, talking to him. Am I ready for that? What if I disappoint? I’m probably going to disappoint.

I take a deep breath. You didn’t went to the party last night, so you should go now, Sandy, I tell myself. You can do it. He is inviting you, meaning he wants to hang out with you. That is a good sign.

Sandy: Sure, I just need to get ready. I think I’m ready in about thirty minutes.

Henry Cavill: I’ll share my location, so you know where to go to, okay?

Taglist: @flhorah​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @toomanystoriessolittletime​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

chris going to nat during a storm and refusing to get in the bed but nat comes and sits with him instead to comfort him 🥺🥺🥺🥺

@whumpmasinjuly‘s day 6 prompt is ‘water’! My inspiration for this morning (thanks for this prompt, Anon, although I think it probably isn’t quite what you were thinking) fits pretty well!

CW: Conditioned fear/phobia, brief reference to head-banging/negative stimming, vague, brief references to emotional torture and past noncon

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker

Ronnie swam up out of sleep to see the top of a small red head peeking up over the side of the bed, big green eyes in a pale lightly-freckled face. She blinked, letting out a slow, soft exhale, trying to find conscious words. “... baby? Tris? What’s... what’s up, honey?”

Outside, thunder rumbled, softly menacing. Wind blew the falling rain against the window in patters of sound. Ronnie squinted at the alarm clock on the side table, looking at the red letters faintly glowing in the dark. 2:38 AM. 

Paul would have just finished his lunch break, she thought idly. 

Tristan was already climbing up into he bed before he even tried to answer. “I, I scared of storms,” He said in his soft, sweet, high little-boy voice. Not quite her baby any longer, but not yet old enough to not think of Mommy first when he woke up at night. “Too loud. Too too too too too loud, hurts my skin.”

“The... thunder hurts your skin?” Her mind wasn’t keeping up with this, not at all, and Ronnie groaned, letting her head fall back against the pillow as Tristan clambered gracelessly over her. He settled himself alongside her, wriggling under her heavy blankets and twisting his fingers in her sleep-shirt, letting go, again and again and again. 

“Big noises hurt,” Tristan murmured, his own voice sleepy again already. She felt the softness of his hair as he tucked himself under her chin, and she sighed and slid an arm around thin shoulders, held him tightly, felt his fingertips tracing patterns over her stomach through her shirt, stopping to tap, here and there, humming in a low tuneless song only he understood, something he kept inside his head. “Big, big noises hurt my, my skin, Mommy.”

“S’okay, baby,” Ronnie whispered, tightening her arm, feeling more than hearing his happy little sigh in response. She looked towards the blinds and watched lightning flash on the other side. A few seconds later, thunder rumbled again, low and distant, moving away.

“Can, can, can can can-can... can can I sleep with you, Mommy?” 

Ronnie huffed laughter. “Well you already are, Tris, aren’t you?”

Tristan didn’t answer, but his fingers gripped a little tighter into her shirt and Ronnie watched the storm through the blinds until she felt her young son’s body relax, heard his breathing go slow and even, sweaty and warm the way that children sleep, pressed against her with the perfect certainty of a child that his mother could save him from the things he was most afraid of.

Ronnie felt a lump in her throat and swallowed against tears that threatened in her eyes. Tristan wasn’t quite like a lot of children, and he wasn’t enough like the ones like him, and she wasn’t sure she could give him safety for as long as he’d need it.

Ronnie Higgs wasn’t a woman who cried, but she had shed plenty of tears over her little boy and he wasn’t even five yet.

She turned her head a little, pressing a kiss to the sweaty strawberry blond hair so like his father’s. The three of them only had each other, and with Paul gone so much for work, Tristan had always seen Ronnie as the center the world turned around.

The thought that she would have to keep carrying him through life - Veronica Higgs, who barely graduated high school and had a baby growing inside her when she walked across the stage to take that diploma from a disapproving principal whose eyes dropped visibly to the rounded bump of her stomach, Veronica Higgs whose husband could just as soon get shot as promoted within the Garden, Veronica Higgs who had fought for two years to get a diagnosis for her son only to realize how little she understood once she got one...

She was the one he ran to when frightened and the person who carried him screaming out of Target when the world overwhelmed him and had held him when he tried to bash his head into a wall and the responsibility, the weight of being his mother when she hadn’t even been ready to have a baby in the first place, she was twenty-two years old with a four year old who needed someone stronger, older, a better barrier between him and the world... it was terrifying.

Right now, though, he was just like any other kid, coming to his mom to sleep in the big bed when the storms raged outside the window.

"God, I hope I can be this for you for as long as you need me,” Ronnie whispered, and felt some deep trickle of fear inside her at the thought of what would happen to Chris if she were gone and he had to navigate the world alone.

The storm passed, but Ronnie still laid awake in the dark, holding her sleeping son tight.

------

The creak of the attic door opening wakes Nat up, from deep sleep to perfect alertness in seconds, and she sits up in bed, her hand moving instinctively for the phone to call Nine and tell him to scramble, they’re compromised, get ready to pick up what rescues can make it through the tunnel this time-

Time of raid, 1:15 AM-

“Nat?”

Chris’s voice is soft, a little higher-pitched than it usually is, trembling. Nat yawns, and turns, letting the phone fall back onto the side table, blinking as she sees his red hair first, always - ducking his head into her door, in the wide expanse of an attic she’d renovated into a large master suite when she first got the house. 

“Chris, what’s up?” Nat’s brown hair tumbles in loose waves, free of its daily braid, around her shoulders. She slept in soft plaid pants and an oversized t-shirt and always had, and she pushes back the covers to swing her legs off of the bed.

Outside, thunder rumbled, and Nat exhales. “Ah,” She says, without waiting for Chris’s answer. “Because Jake is gone?”

There’s a pause, and then Chris creeps forward into the room, his hands twisting and untwisting at the hem of the big shirt he wore, almost certainly Jake’s. The teenager she’d taken in looks younger than usual, and Nat wonders - not for the first time - what kind of soullessness it must take to look at someone so young and feel actual desire to ruin them.

“It’s, um, it’s-... it’s storming,” Chris says in a low voice, flinching as a flash of lighting briefly illuminated the big picture window at the front of the house, in what Nat liked to call her ‘reading nook’, not that she ever had time for reading any longer. “I don’t, um, I don’t like-... I don’t like to be, to, um, to be alone, for storms, my Sir-”

“I know, Chris.” Nat feels weariness pushing down on her shoulders, her back aching. She did her best to keep herself in shape but some things just go, after a while, and she’d discovered that her forties were going to be the decade where her back decided to just give her the middle finger every fucking day of her life. “I know you don’t like storms. Did you ask Antoni-”

“He, um, he’s, um... he’s-he’s... he’s awake, I just-... I just, um, I want-” He stops, and there’s a look of confusion on his narrow, pretty face. In the dark his eyebrows seem strangely absent, their coppery-light color washed out by the dim light brought on by the storm and a streetlight outside. “I want-... I want to sleep with, um, with you, please.”

Flash of lighting, crack of thunder that rattled the windows. She hears the first cracks of tiny pebble-sized hail as it smacks against the window. Even in the darkness she can see Chris’s eyes widen in a sudden panic as he all but throws himself across the room, leaping into her bed and throwing his arms around her.

Nat catches him, one hand in his hair and the other across his shoulders. He’s trembling, his entire body shaking and heart racing, a pulse she can nearly see beating in his throat, green eyes white-rimmed with panic. 

“Ssshhhh, Chris, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just a storm. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, honey.”

Chris buries his face against her neck, breathing harshly, fingers twisting and twisting and twisting her t-shirt, rocking himself forward and back against her. “I hate storms,” he whimpers, and Nat’s heart breaks. “Hate storms, hate, hate them, hate them, hate hate hate-”

“I know,” Nat says softly. “I know you do. It’s okay, honey. No one’s ever going to make you be outside for a storm ever again. We’ve got you, here. You’re taken care of. We’ve got you.”

Nat’s phone buzzes and she glances over at it, seeing it light up and quirking a faint smile when she sees it’s a text from Jake.

Dime-sized hail here, bad storm. Addie and I watching movie still. Watch out for Chris?

Already on it, Nat thinks, her lips twitching in a wry smile. 

“Can, can can can... can I stay with you?” Chris whispers against her neck, and Nat sighs, pulling him down into the bed with her, shifting the blankets back up to cover them both. A lanky, lean-muscled teen boy is no small thing to have in a bed, and her back is going to regret her choices in the morning.

For now, though...

“Mmmn, looks like you’re already staying with me, doesn’t it?” Nat teases, lightly, and hears his relieved exhale in response. They lay there in silence for a long time, and she can tell from his breathing and his occasional shivering, full-body shudders that briefly tense every muscle, that he hasn’t fallen back asleep.

The weight of keeping her rescues safe, right down to giving them someone they can go to with even the smallest fears brought on by the bigger terrors that they’ve had to survive... sometimes, it’s terrifying.

She’s just some farmer’s kid from the Midwest, grown up but no closer to understanding her place in the world than she had been in high school. She doesn’t feel like a different person than she was then, most of the time. She feels exactly as scared and overwhelmed, and tells herself what her father always said-

One foot in front of the other, and you’ll find you’ve gone miles further than you ever thought you could go.

“I hope I can help you for as long as you need me,” She murmurs, sliding an arm around Chris’s muscled shoulders and holding him tightly, just another boy scared of the storm outside his window, looking for someone to hold onto.

The storm passes, but Nat lays awake, listening to Chris’s breathing and praying to God that she and Jake could keep him safe. All she can do, in the moment, is keep her arm around him and hold him tight.

She hopes that if his family is still out there, somewhere - if someone is looking for this sweet boy - that they will know, somehow, that someone holds him when he’s scared, now.

At least... she blinks back the heat of rare tears and lets her mouth move in a prayer without sound.

Please, God, let them know someone is there to hold their son until we find out where he belongs.

[jennygirl2014]

Birthday Cake~Chapter 2

Summary: Humiliated beyond belief, y/n now has to face her boss after the incident.  She isn't sure which to be more worried about, Tony firing her or hiding from Steve for the rest of her life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, sexual themes, swearing, fantasizing

The sound of that incessant mocking laughter haunted you, adding insult to injury. Such a stupid prank, with such devastating results.  Most of which were at your own expense.  You heard it thumping in your ears as you drove home, trying to keep yourself from crying or dying of embarrassment.

Ha ha… ha ha… ha ha….

              You got home and peeled yourself out of your clothes, threw them right into the washing machine and tried to relax in your tub. You had to sort through it all, somehow.  It was a mistake, that was never supposed to happen, you meant well.  You had no idea what you were going to walk into, literally. In your defense, you did knock. He just didn’t answer. Of course, breaking in wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

              It was Tony’s idea in the first place.  And it was his stupid prank that added to the humiliation.  What if Steve called up Tony and let him know what happened?  He couldn’t fire you for doing what he told you to do, right?  You were just a victim of Tony’s antics.  But the real victim, by far, was Steve.  How were you going to face him after that? How were you going to move on after such a tragedy?  Yes, you had imagined seeing him doing that before, but you would have never actually tried to see it for yourself.  The image was stuck in your head, him standing there with that look of complete shock and invasion on his face.  And even more, those muscular thighs, his large hand…

              Aside from the shock, and humiliation, your curiosity was getting the best of you. You saw what was on the screen in front of him, but your mind carried on further.  What kind of video was it?  What was he into?  Big asses? Girl on girl?  Oh God, could Steve Rogers be watching girl on girl action?  Why would that be shocking?  Most men did.  Despite being Captain America, he was still a man, he still had needs.  But he could get any girl he wanted, why was he wasting time watching videos?  He was a modest and introverted kind of guy, and definitely not the kind of guy to go out looking to fulfill his appetite.    

              You groaned, trying not to let your mind wander too far into those dirty depths.  Everything about what happened was wrong.  And you were going to be the one getting burnt for it.  You looked down at the water in the tub and saw more bits of cake floating and, of course, a copious amount of glitter floating around. Jesus, how much glitter was in that box? You would be finding it in every nook and cranny of your car for months. It was probably still in your hair. You were marked.  Like when bank robbers break open a bag of money and get sprayed with blue dye.  You broke into an innocent man’s apartment, caught him whacking it, and now you were covered in glitter.  You groaned in agony as you sank further down into the water, letting it encase you and feeling half tempted to keep your head under water.

              The next morning came, despite not getting any sleep, and you hemmed and hawed about calling in sick or using a personal day. You contemplated it from the moment your alarm went off to the moment you were dressed and walking to your car. You were not ready to face the consequences.  Still, you got yourself to work, sporting a pair of flats instead of heels since your ankles were so swollen from twisting them in your mad dash the night before. When you got to your office, you sat down at your desk and tried to avoid all contact.  Maybe you could make it through the day without anything happening. Maybe Steve was too embarrassed to even reach out to Tony.  What was he going to say?  

“There she is.” Tony’s voice suddenly cut through your inner monologue and you spun in your chair to see him marching into your office.  He kept a rather flat affect, making it hard to read him, but you noticed he was quick to close the door behind himself.  That wasn’t good.  You braced yourself as he sat in the chair across from your desk and just eyed you. You eyed him back with your heart thumping as you bit your lip, waiting for him to speak and reveal your fate, but he didn’t, he just sat there and remained silent.  That silence started to gnaw away at you, until you finally blurted something out.

“It was an accident! I didn’t mean to!  I swear I wasn’t trying to—” you panicked.

“Is that the excuse?” he cut you off, his tone still cold.

“It’s not an excuse! I know it was wrong, but you told me to do it!” you defended yourself.

“What did I tell you to do?” he questioned you.

“To break in!  You told me to let myself in and—” you huffed, “If you’re gonna fire me, just get it over with, please, I’m sorry!” tears started to well in your eyes as your world started to crumble.  You were dead.

“Fire you?” Tony’s face twisted up with confusion, “Why would I fire you?”

You sat there confused as well.

“But…I thought…” you stammered.

“Relax, kid, I was just messing with you.” Tony grinned and chuckled.  More amusement at your expense. You cocked your head to the side as he started laughing more, the dick.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That gift! With the glitter and the laughing…I-I…you…how could you do that, Tony?!” you stammered even more, and he just laughed harder.

“Did you hear about that? Oh man, I wish I could have seen the look on the old man’s face!  Did you see it?  Was it priceless?” his eyes were sparkling as he asked for details.  You would give him no such reward as you slowly pieced together that he must have been missing some key information.

“I… did Steve tell you what happened?”

“He left a not-so-friendly voicemail on my phone.” Tony snorted, “He’ll get over it.”

“What did he tell you?” you questioned more, your voice shaking.

“Just that he had a huge mess to clean up, why?  Did something else happen?” Tony tilted his head and eyed you again.  He didn’t know.  And there was no way on this green earth you were going to tell him. You swallowed hard and shook your head, making a tear spill from you eye that you quickly wiped away. Tony’s face then turned to concern. “You okay, kid?  What’s going on?”

“I just…” you started, not even knowing where to go, “I don’t want to be caught up in your games with Steve is all.” Your voice was low, but you were able to keep it steady. Tony raised a brow, but you remained silent.  

“Well, I’m sorry.  I probably shouldn’t have used you like a pawn in our little battles, I get that, and it won’t happen again.” Tony sounded sincere, which shocked you more, “I just knew he wouldn’t be expecting anything like that from you.”

Boy was he right.  He didn’t know the half of it.  But the bigger question remained, why did Steve call Tony about the prank but spare you?  

“You know if you want me to say something to him...” Tony’s voice trailed off.

“What?” it came out like more of a croak than a real question.  

“Like, that your hands were clean in all of this, then I will.” He offered.  But your hands weren’t clean, they had been covered in frosting and glitter, and shame.  You shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You figured it was best to just move on entirely.

“I mean, if you like the guy, I could say something —”

“Like him?” you interrupted him.

“Maybe you don’t, I’m just assuming—”

“Please don’t assume anything.” You held out a hand, telling him to stop in his tracks.

“Okay, I won’t.” Tony quickly redacted his statement.

“Because you know what happens when you assume something, right?”

“You make an ass of you and me.” Tony replied it the exact adage you were thinking off.

“That’s right, but I’m afraid that in this case, I’m the only ass and you come out smelling like a rose, so let’s just change the subject, alright?” you politely explained to him that you were done with the conversation.  Tony smirked a bit, and you could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he managed to hold it in.

“Alright.  Fair enough.”

                To say you were relieved was an understatement. Now you just had the guilt to deal with, which was hard enough.  You were still in shock that Steve hadn’t sold you out, because you couldn’t say you wouldn’t do it if it had been you.  You wanted to thank him, but you knew better than to see him out.  Hell, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to see him again. If it had been you, would you want to see him again?  Well, if it has been you, you might have asked him for assistance honestly.  But Steve Rogers was not as bold as you when it came to those types of things.  Still, you would have liked to at least apologize, but you knew that some time needed to pass before you ever attempted such a thing.

              A few days passed, and you kept trying to go about your time and forget about what happened.  Tony never mentioned anything, so it was water under the bridge as far as that went.  The more the guilt and shame subsided, the more your curiosity grew.  When you had a moment to yourself, you found your mind wandering back to that night, remembering the parts you did see, and trying to fill in the gaps of the parts you didn’t.  No, you didn’t see what he was holding in his hand, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t think about the size of it.  Even more so, the images you saw on his computer screen kept your mind busy. What kind of kinky things was Steve Rogers into? You had taken a glimpse into his private thoughts and desires, accidentally of course, but so much of it remained private.  The sounds he was making that night was often used as muse when you were taking care of your own needs.  Those hushes grunts and groans.  Was he a vocal man?  To you there was nothing sexier than a man who wasn’t afraid to make a little noise.

One evening, after a day of trying to keep up with Tony’s chaotic mind, you decided to reward yourself and unwind with dinner from one of your favorite places. The little gastropub around the corner had really grown on you, and after a hard day’s work, nothing hit the spot like your favorite cocktail, their famous calamari, and those mouthwatering fish tacos.  The food was practically calling your name, and since it was a Wednesday night, the place wouldn’t be too packed.  Upon simply walking in, the smell of the food had you feeling relaxed and floating as you found your seat.  You used to sit at the bar, but you had learned that sitting at the bar somehow meant giving random strangers the permission to hit on you, overshare their own woes, or just be plain creepy.  When you mind was this full, it was best to claim an empty table to yourself and let the day melt out of your brain, as long as there was an empty table to hoard to yourself.

              That first sip of that cocktail was like magic, and the first bite of calamari was even better.  You chewed happily to yourself and sipped on your fruity drink while you played a game on your phone, something mind-numbing enough to not be too difficult, but still enough to keep your brain from drifting back to work related matters.  After beating the current level on the game, you rewarded yourself by popping more calamari into your mouth before starting the next level, and you leisurely chewed.

“Well look who it is.” A familiar voice crept up on you from behind, and you turned in your seat to have your eyes set firmly on a man’s torso, and then your eyes glanced up to find the face of this semi-mysterious person.  Of course, you should have been able to make out the contour of that body underneath that shirt and jacket, who else had that shoulder to hip ratio? But when your saw his face, you no longer needed any clues.  Steve’s blue eyes looked down at you, with an unreadable gaze.