#I don't have door dash I'm shy

[that-there-is-a-wierd0]

mad bc my nearest McDonald's is almost a half hour walk....humgery

[buckyalpine]

Chicken nuggies.

Crack thought with all the fluff. ALL the fluff. Maybe a tiny dash of angst at the start but it's to set the plot.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong went sideways as soon as the mission started. The team was ambushed. Bucky was separated from everyone else. His trigger words blared through the speakers and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the soldier from awakening.

Worst of all, you were badly injured. Steve groaned in pain, struggling to pull himself up when he saw the solider lock his eyes on your limp form, taking long strides towards you with purpose.

That wasn't good.

"Tony-I-I need back up, y/n is-what the hell"

Steve blinked watching his friend pick you up with the utmost care, holding you securely in his arms. A hydra agent attempted to order him, only to be silenced with a knife thrown to the throat. The soldier made his way towards the exit with you along with a limping Steve trailing behind him.

"Buck-

"Быстрее" [move] he ordered, carrying you close to his chest and sitting in his designated on the spot on the jet. He didn't say a word as the others filed in, growling when Tony didn't start the engine up fast enough. No one dared look in your direction, not wanting to make the wrong move and happy that Bucky had busied himself with looking over your injuries, mumbling in Russian while letting his hand brush over your cheek.

As soon as the jet touched the ground, he was on his feet and carrying you over to the medbay, refusing to set you down until he saw a doctor ready to help. While it wasn't exactly protocol to have him in the operating room while the doctors worked, no one was interested in arguing back with him when he placed himself in a corner, watching intently. His blue eyes which were normally filled with warmth and softness were now stone cold, eyeing every single movement of what was being done to you, his gaze relaxing when the surgeon gave him a shaky thumbs up.

He sat by your side the entire time, gear still strapped to his body, watching the steady beep of your heart monitor while you slept, the rest of the team quietly waiting outside. Sam peered in, quickly retreating back when Bucky glowered at him, getting up and closing the door so you could rest. He and Steve continued to peep through the little glass window, immediately ducking when they could feel steel blue eyes watching him.

"Do we try and help or-

"I don't want to die yet, also based on what I'm seeing, y/n in the safest place she could be"

You sighed happily as you blinked awake, feeling hazy as if you were floating upon the softest of clouds. The room was bright and clean, you could have been in heaven for all you knew.

Or you were just high as a kite from all the pain killers.

Then you saw him beside you.

Such a gorgeous man.

Handsome.

One who gave you butterflies with shy smiles.

"Soldat" You giggled, reaching over to stroke his scruffy cheek, brushing your thumb over the scowl on his lips, "Hi" You admired his sharp jaw, idly tracing over his features while his mouth twitched into something of a smile, all his muscles finally relaxing seeing you awake.

You yawned, stretching yourself out like a kitten out before rolling over with a flop to face the very pretty man who was sitting at your bedside. Your admiration was cut short with the rumble of your tummy.

There was only one thing you wanted now.

"Soldat, I want chicken nuggies" You demanded, the growl of your stomach solidifying your request. He simply nodded, getting up and out of his seat, making his way over to the one place he knew you'd want your "nuggies" from.

"H-how may I h-help you" The Mc Donald's cashier stared at the numerous guns and knifes strapped to the infamous soldier, his metal arm pointing to a kids meal combo that came with a 6 piece nugget.

A little red box was placed in front of him at lightening speed but that wasn't good enough. He peered into the bag, frowning when he saw a toy that you already had. He grabbed it and placed it back onto the counter, staring at the trembling employee while they rummaged to find a new one, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing into the bag instead. The soldier nodded when he was given one you didn't have before, making his way back to ensure you were fed.

It didn't take long for the news outlets to catch on that the Winter Soldier was out buying Happy Meals.

*Tony's suit, Thors hammer, Steve's now broken shield and some gentle deprogramming later*

"Still want more nuggies" You murmured against Bucky's chest, still a little hazy while he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'll always get you chicken nuggies, doll"

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

humans are space orcs

imagine someone with chronic joint pain, whose dream their whole lives has been to go to space and meet the aliens and be a scientist and learn

so they look up the requirements as a kid and go "fuck."

they wouldn't make the cut.

their dreams are dashed. hopes ruined. lifelong dre destroyed.

except....

they've never really said a whole lot about their pain. they don't particularly like doctors, and they think that they've been managing just fine, so they never saw the point.

so maybe... maybe if they just don't say anything, they can make it to space.

they spend all of their time training. doing physical therapy exercises so that their joints aren't so loose, soaking up as much scientific and mathematical knowledge as they can, teaching themselves to push through the worst of it in pursuit of their dream.

and they make it.

they make it to space! it was gruelling, tortuous work, but they made it!

their first mission is an exploratory one, with a diverse crew which only has one other human.

they're thrilled.

they have dozens of alien friends and acquaintances. they spend hours learning and researching alien planets and cultures. it's everything they've ever wanted!

but

it's exhausting.

they're in more pain than they've ever been, more frequently than they ever have.

they keep up their exercises as best they can, but even those are often too much.

they smile when asked if they're alright, tell everyone that "i'm fine! just tired."

but they need a break. they can't imagine going or being sent back to earth, this is their home now, with these people, on this ship. but they don't know how much longer they can take this.

one day, on their day off, a fellow researcher comes and knocks on their door.

"are you here?"

"not today islith."

"but we've been called! there are some exciting new discoveries that need further cataloging and investigation, and carlmoth thought you would enjoy the task!"

"i can't today, islith."

"are you ill?"

"...kind of? but i'll be right as rain tomorrow. it's my day off anyhow."

"nonsense! you should go down to medbay!"

"i'm alright, i promise."

"you get out here right this minute or i'll report you to medbay myself!"

"no!" there's a series of crashes and thumps, and then they open the door.

"oh, you look awful. come on, you really must need medbay, what if you're contagious." islith tries to grab them but they shy away.

"i'm not contagious, i promise."

"how can you possibly know that? what if you picked it up from a sample, or, or, garfon has been sick recently! humans can't survive cerian sicknesses-"

"i didn't catch something from garfon, islith," they sigh and open the door wider. "come in and let me explain."

"alright, but if i think you should go to medbay afterwards then i'm taking you there."

"sure, islith."

islith enters, notices the piles of clothes, rumpled bedsheets, the lights are off and the port window shut.

"what's wrong?"

they sigh again, "my body doesn't work like it's meant to, islith."

islith is wildly alarmed, "and you said there was no need for medbay?!? come with me right now and-"

"no! i can't, islith, you don't understand."

"then explain it to me."

"i've... always been this way, although it's gotten worse as i've gotten older. my body, it just isn't built quite right, there's something wrong with it that makes it not work properly and hurt often."

"you're right, i don't understand. why can't you go to medbay?"

"i'd... be thrown off the ship."

"what?!?"

and so they tell islith a story about a young child whose dream was to touch the stars.

"and now, it's too late. i'd get in huge trouble for lying to the government, especially for so long."

"well- but- but humans are so resilient! you hear all the stories!"

"not every human is the same, islith. some of us are born disabled, and some of us get hurt in accidents, just like any other species."

"well, then, well there must be something we can do?"

they look up in shock, "we?"

"of course we, you ridiculous creature," islith said with a fond sigh. "you didn't think i'd leave you to suffer, would you?"

"but, you could get in so much trouble!"

"that's alright, i don't mind. what else are friends for? and, anyway, we don't have to tell your government, we can tell mine."

"but i'll-"

"we don't have any rules like that. any of us who are disabled can still manage in space just fine with the right support, and i bet you could too."

"i- islith- i don't-"

"don't worry, we'll all back you when it comes down to it. you're out teammate, our family. no one on this ship wants to watch you leave because of something you can't control. now come on, let's talk to glidlep in medical, she'll understand."

and for years, things continued on that way, until eventually it was an open secret that the human with the exosuit was disabled and not technically allowed onboard.

and down the line, when nasa found out and was furious, the entire ship and more stood by their side.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girl, while I am jet-lagged from a trip, another Elijah idea came to me. Memory-free Elijah (Season 5) meets strong and confident human readers, and they start a friendship. She helps him navigate through his new life, and he falls for her. He also kinda forgot that he is a really skilled lover, so it's kinda cute and fluff because he is nervous and sweet, but I imagine that is something he would quickly remember after a few rounds :)

Btw: love, love, love Kinktober!!!

Belonging

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} You needed a roommate, and he needed a place to belong...but as secrets unravel and his dark past comes to light, your new housemate might just change your life forever.

♡♡ ahhh @originals23 thank you for another spectacular request!! ♡♡

8.8k words {whoops} - Warnings: sssmmuuttt, roommates-to-lovers, lots of sexual tension, Elijah being charming and mysterious, a dash of angst, mild language, protective Elijah, soft and nervous Elijah, domestic fluff, dangerous encounters (brief physical assault), Paris, vampire reveals && all the feelsss

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @elishi03

Money was tight, as it seemed to be for everyone these days. The economy wasn't kind, and you had bills to pay. You needed a roommate, which was how you found yourself on craigslist. You were hoping for a good, sane human being, but at the end of the day, you would take what you could get.

The first person to show up for the interview was a woman and her very obnoxious boyfriend. You could instantly tell that this would not work, even if you were desperate. She wanted to smoke in the house and have friends over to play loud music and drink all night. You would rather die.

Next came a middle-aged man who immediately gave you the creeps. You had no problem living with men in general, but this guy made you uncomfortable. He stared at you too much and had a weird look in his eyes. You kicked him out quickly, feeling uneasy.

You were about to give up for the day, when a man dressed in slightly worn clothes knocked on the door. You couldn't quite get a read on him, he seemed to be full of contradictions. On the one hand, he didn't look to have a lot of money, perhaps he was even homeless. But his skin was clean, his hair neatly trimmed, and he had an air of confidence that was rare to see.

You invited him in, and he sat at the kitchen table as you asked the usual questions. None of them he could really answer in a straightforward manner.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm not really sure."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know that either."

"Where do you work?”

"I...I'm looking."

You studied him for a minute, and he gave you a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I know this is a bit unusual, and I wouldn't have bothered coming here if I had anywhere else to go. The truth is, I have no memories of who I am, where I'm from, or even my age."

"That's...that's a lot to take in," you replied, not sure what else to say.

He nodded solemnly, his gaze steady but filled with vulnerability. “It is. I woke up a month ago on a bus with no memory of how I got there. All I had was this,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a single, ornate cufflink with an engraved ‘E.’ “I think my name starts with an ‘E.’ Beyond that, I don’t have much to go on.

You leaned back in your chair, trying to process the situation. He could have been lying… anyone could come up with a story like that. But something about his demeanor struck you as sincere. He didn’t have the desperation of someone looking for a quick handout. He carried himself with dignity, even as he admitted he had nothing.

"Okay," you said slowly. "So, let’s say I believe you. You’ve got no memories, no job, no ID. How do you plan to contribute if I let you stay here?”

He straightened in his chair, his expression resolute. “I may not remember who I was, but I’m willing to work. I’m a fast learner, and I can help with anything you need around the house. Cleaning, repairs, anything physical...I’ll earn my keep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure sound confident for someone who doesn’t even know their own name.”

A small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose some things are instinctual.”

His charm wasn’t lost on you, but you weren’t about to make a decision based on a smile. “And what if you’re dangerous? You could be an escaped convict for all I know.”

His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. “I understand your concern. I don’t believe I’m a danger to anyone, but I can’t offer you proof of that. All I can promise is that I’ll respect your home and your rules.”

You studied him for a long moment, weighing the risks. Something about him made you want to trust him, even though logic told you not to. Maybe it was the way he spoke, all articulate and thoughtful, as though he’d once been someone important. Or maybe it was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the kind that suggested he’d lost something far greater than his memory.

"Alright," you said finally. "You can stay. But there are rules. No bringing strangers into the house, no smoking, no loud music. And if you try anything shady, I’m calling the cops.”

Relief washed over his face, and he nodded earnestly. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this.”

You showed him to the spare bedroom, which was small but comfortable, and gave him a set of clean sheets and a towel. He looked around the room as though he’d never seen anything like it, running his fingers over the furniture with quiet curiosity.

As he settled in, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he’d led before he lost his memory. He was polite and well-spoken, yet entirely out of place in the world. And though he seemed vulnerable now, there was something about him… something strong and enduring, like a flicker of a flame waiting to reignite.

For now, you decided to take it one day at a time. After all, what’s life without a little risk?

The following months passed by quickly. You got closer and closer to each other, spending a lot of time together.

He had gotten used to the city life, and you had gotten used to having him around. It had been nice, having someone to come home to, and to talk to.

He was a lovely person, who enjoyed listening to classical music as he cooked, and who was always willing to lend a hand. He was smart, funny, and kind, and you were starting to fall for him.

You weren't sure if he felt the same way about you, but the way he looked at you sometimes, and the way he smiled at you, gave you hope.

You were sitting in the living room, reading a book, while he cooked dinner. The smell of his cooking was making your stomach growl, and you were looking forward to eating whatever he had prepared.

"I found out something interesting today," he said, coming into the room with a bowl of salad.

"What's that?" You asked, putting your book down.

"My name," he said, a slight smirk on his face. "My full name, I mean."

"You did?!" You exclaimed, excitedly.

"Yep," he confirmed, looking pleased with himself. "It's Elijah."

"Elijah," you repeated, testing out the name. "I like it. It suits you."

He smiled, and the sight of his dimples made your heart skip a beat. He was so striking, and you wondered if there was someone out there missing him. Someone who loved him.

"It does," he agreed, his smile fading a little.

"So, how did you find out? Did it just come to you, or did you remember?" You asked.

"Actually... I uh.. ran into someone who claimed to know me. He wasn't very friendly," he explained.

"Oh no, are you okay?" You asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he assured you. "I wasn't hurt. Just... I don't know, it was odd."

"Odd how?"

"He was angry, and he told me I wanted this, and that I should leave the city for the sake of a woman he wouldn't name," he recalled.

"That's awful," you said, feeling sorry for him.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Do you have any idea who the woman is?" You asked.

"... I think she might be my family?" He said, looking unsure. "It's hard to explain, but when he mentioned her, it felt like something clicked, and I knew that he was telling the truth."

"Wow, that's big," you breathed.

"I know," he nodded, plating up the food. "It's strange, I don't remember anything about my life, but the mention of her... It felt right."

"Maybe it'll trigger your memories," you suggested, helping him bring the food over to the table.

"Maybe," he agreed.

The two of you sat down to eat, and the conversation shifted to more pleasant topics.

He talked about his favorite books, and his favorite places in the city, and you listened, enjoying his company.

After dinner, you cleared the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. And he prepared for his nightly walk, one he didn't want you joining him on.

"Can I join you tonight?" You asked, as he grabbed his jacket.

"Why?" He asked, sounding surprised.

"Because I want to spend more time with you," you explained, hoping he wouldn't think it was too weird.

"Oh," he said, a smile creeping across his face. "Truly, I would love for you to join... But tonight, I want to clear my head. I need some time alone."

"Okay," you agreed, a little disappointed.

"Tomorrow night, perhaps," he said, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You blushed, and watched him leave. He always had an excuse as to why he had to go out on his own, and it was starting to bother you. You couldn't help but worry that he was hiding something from you, or that maybe he didn't feel the same way about you, and this was his subtle way of letting you down.

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was your growing feelings for him, but you decided to follow him, just this once.

You grabbed a coat and put on a pair of boots, and slipped out the front door. It was a cold, windy night, and you cursed yourself for not bringing a scarf and gloves.

You could see Elijah's silhouette ahead, and you followed him, keeping your distance. He walked with such grace and confidence, the sort of walk that screamed 'I'm rich and powerful,' although his personality hardly lined up with that attitude.

You had a feeling that whoever he was, before he lost his memories, had a lot of money. It was in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and the way he could make a cheap t-shirt look elegant.

He wandered into a sketchy part of town, and you wondered why he would want to come here. There were several run-down buildings, and a lot of graffiti. The only people you saw were homeless and drug addicts, and you were starting to get scared.

Finally, he stopped outside an abandoned warehouse. You watched from afar as he walked inside, and a few minutes later, came back out, wiping his mouth. You frowned, wondering what he had been doing in there.

Then, without warning, he turned around and started walking back towards the house.

"Fuck," you muttered, ducking into an alleyway.

You waited until he had passed, and then followed him, staying out of sight. He went back in a different direction, and after a few blocks, you realised he was headed for a park.

You followed him, trying to stay quiet, but your footsteps echoed loudly in the night. You felt foolish, and hoped that he hadn't heard you.

He led you deeper into the park, to an area that was mostly secluded. There was a large tree, with a bench underneath it. He sat down on the bench, and stared up at the sky, which was covered in stars.

You watched him for a moment, wondering if this was his way of relaxing, and what was going through his mind.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto yours. You gasped and took a step back, your heart racing.

"Are you going to join me, or just keep spying on me?" He asked, his voice amused.

"I wasn't spying," you lied, sitting down next to him.

"Of course not," he replied, his tone clearly mocking you.

"Why are you here?" You asked.

"I like the fresh air, and the view is beautiful," he answered.

"What were you doing in that warehouse?"

"Just clearing my head," he said, his expression becoming serious. "You shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous."

"You are out here," you countered.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling up in the corners.

"That's true," he agreed, looking out into the darkness, his eyes scanning the shadows. His shoulders were tense, and you could tell that he was on alert, even though you were both sitting safely under the tree. "Let's walk back, shall we?"

He stood up and held out his hand. You took it and he helped you to your feet.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, feeling guilty. "I shouldn't have followed you, but I was worried about you."

"It's alright," he said, keeping a grip on your hand as you walked down the path to the park exit.

You enjoyed the feeling of his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin. You glanced at his profile, admiring his handsome features. You noticed the frown on his face, his dark eyes once again scanning the shadows.

He moved a little faster, pulling you along. He seemed anxious to get out of the park, and back to the safety of your condo.

"What's wrong?" You asked, sensing his unease.

"It's nothing," he replied, his tone serious. "But I think it's best we get home, don't you?"

Then the sound of gravel crunching beneath shoes caught your attention. You turned to see a group of men walking towards you, wearing dark clothing, their faces hidden.

Elijah stopped and stepped in front of you, shielding you from the men. They approached slowly, spreading out to surround you. You were frightened, and you held onto his arm, hoping he knew what to do.

One of the men reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. Casually holding it by his side, as if it was a normal object, instead of a deadly weapon.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Elijah said, his tone calm and confident. "How may I be of service?"

The leader of the group chuckled, and shook his head.

"Hand over your money, and no one gets hurt," the man demanded, gesturing the gun at Elijah.

"Of course," Elijah said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He handed it to the man, and the man flipped through it, counting the cash.

"A little light, don't you think?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid I don't carry much cash on me," Elijah said, sounding apologetic.

The man's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his gaze flicking between you and Elijah.

"Perhaps you should let the lady go, and we can discuss this like civilized men," Elijah suggested, his tone still polite, but his eyes had hardened.

"I don't think so," the man replied, his grip on the gun tightening.

"I uh... don't have anything," you stammered, too terrified to think straight. "I...I left my wallet at home,"

"Liar," the man spat, pointing the gun at you.

Elijah stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the gun.

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Elijah said, holding up his hands. "We're all reasonable people, let's not resort to violence."

"Then, perhaps, we should take her fancy designer clothes instead. Maybe that'll make up for the loss," the man said, his tone threatening, pressing the barrel of the gun against Elijah's chest.

Elijah tensed, and a low growl escaped his lips. You looked at him in surprise, he didn't seem like the type of guy who would react to threats this way.

The leader's eyes widened, and a small grin appeared on his face.

"Ooh, we have a tough guy here," he said, sounding amused. "Trying to impress your date? She’ a little young for you ain't she?"

His goons laughed, and you felt your cheeks flush.

"She is none of your concern," Elijah replied, his tone sharp.

"Actually, she is. You see, I'm in charge here," the man said, he looked at you and smiled, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. "Strip. Now. Or I will shoot your sugar daddy in the fucking face,"

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"No, no please, we'll give you anything you want, just don't hurt us," you begged, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Clothes. NOW!" The man yelled, pointing the gun at your face.

You hesitated, and he grabbed your hair, yanking you away from Elijah.

"Take off the fucking clothes, or I will kill you both," the man snarled, his breath hot on your face, the barrel of the gun pressed against your temple.

"Alright, alright, don't hurt her," Elijah said, taking off his coat.

"Hurry up," the man snapped, releasing your hair.

You nodded and started to undress, tears streaming down your cheeks. You stripped off your coat and scarf, then pulled off your shirt and pants, shivering as the cold night air hit your bare skin.

You looked at Elijah, who was watching you, his expression unreadable. You could see the muscles in his jaw working, his hands balled into fists.

You were scared, but more than that, you were angry. You hated these men, for the way they were treating you and Elijah, and for the fear and shame they were making you feel.

"There, I'm naked," you said, trying to sound brave.

"Not quite," the man replied, stepping forward. He ran his hands over your body, his fingers rough against your skin, the gun still pressed to your temple.

You flinched, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not going to rape you," he said, his hand cupping your breast. "You're not my type."

He moved his hand down, stroking your stomach, and then lower, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. You shuddered, and he laughed again.

"But, maybe you'd like a little fun," he whispered, his lips close to your ear.

"That's enough, you've gotten what you wanted, now leave us alone," Elijah demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"It seems your sugar daddy doesn't want to share," the man said, his tone mocking. "He keeps pretending like he's in charge,"

"Please, let us go," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

"No, I think I'm going to keep you," the man replied, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you against his chest.

"You won't harm her," Elijah warned, his eyes blazing.

"Or what?" The man sneered, his fingers digging into your skin.

"I'll kill you," Elijah growled, his voice deadly.

You watched in horror as the other men laughed, raising their guns at Elijah. He didn't even blink, his gaze fixed on the man holding you.

"Is that a threat?" The man asked, his grip on you tightening.

"A promise," Elijah replied, his expression was eerily calm, but his eyes were filled with anger and determination.

The man pressed the barrel of the gun against your skull, the cold metal pressing painfully into your skin. You gasped, and he laughed, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

"Walk away, and I'll let her go," the man said, his gaze locked on Elijah.

Elijah looked at you, and his eyes softened.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice soft, barely audible above the sound of your racing heartbeat.

"Yes," you answered, without hesitation.

He smiled, and turned to the man. "Then duck,"

Before the man could respond, Elijah lunged at him, his hand grabbing the wrist holding the gun. The man yelped, and you ducked down, just as Elijah's knee connected with his face. There was a sickening crack, and the man cried out, letting go of the gun.

Elijah caught it before it hit the ground, and other men began firing, hitting Elijah in the chest over and over, but he stood there unfazed, almost bored, like they were annoying pests and nothing more.

One of the men, realizing his bullets were useless, rushed forward and swung a fist, hitting Elijah in the jaw. Elijah didn't budge, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. The man gasped, and tried to pry his hand off, but Elijah's grip was too strong.

You watched in awe as Elijah crushed the man's throat, his expression blank. Then, he threw him aside, the sound of bones snapping echoed in the air.

The other men backed away, their faces pale. Elijah ignored them, taking his leather jacket and putting it over your shoulders, before turning his attention to the leader.

The man was kneeling on the ground, clutching his broken nose. He looked up at Elijah, his eyes wide with fear.

"P-please," the man stammered, holding up his hands. "I'm s-sorry,"

Elijah stared at him, his expression cold. "No you are not,"

He crushed the gun in his hands like it was tissue paper, and grabbed the man by the throat. The man choked, his hands clawing at Elijah's arm.

"I promised you that I would kill you, and I intend to keep my word," Elijah said, his voice devoid of emotion.

You watched in horror as he tightened his grip, and the man's face turned purple. You wanted to look away, but couldn't tear your eyes from the scene.

Elijah's expression was a mixture of rage and hatred, his face was no longer human, he had completely black eyes, with veins snaking across his face, and his teeth were razor sharp, almost fang like.

He snapped the neck with a loud crack, and dropped the man to the ground. The other men backed away further, their guns forgotten, the color drained from their faces.

Elijah looked at them, and smiled, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

"Run," he commanded, his voice dark and deadly.

The men fled, tripping over their own feet, disappearing into the shadows. Elijah turned to look at you, his eyes soft yet completely inhuman.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, unable to speak. You were terrified, but not of him.

"Close your eyes and count to thirty, I'll be right back," he said, and then turned and followed the men.

You watched him run off faster than any human could, and you closed your eyes tightly, hearing screams and cries as he caught the men. You waited, counting down from thirty, and then you heard his footsteps and opened your eyes, his face once again normal, the only hint that he had been a monster moments ago was the blood staining his shirt.

He didn't say a word, just reached out his hand and helped you to your feet. He picked up your clothes and helped you dress, your hands were shaking so badly that you could barely button up your shirt.

When you were dressed, he wrapped his arms around you, and held you close, his warmth enveloping you.

"S-shouldn't we call the cops?" You asked, still in shock.

"There will be no need," he replied, his voice calm and soothing.

You looked at the bodies of the men, and then quickly looked away. Elijah had torn them apart, their limbs twisted and contorted in impossible ways. Their faces were frozen in expressions of terror, their eyes empty and lifeless.

"You're not human are you?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I'm more human than them," he replied, his grip on you tightening a little. "Let's get out of here, and I'll explain everything."

"Okay," you said, letting him guide you away from the bodies.

You felt numb, and you let him lead you out of the park, your mind struggling to process what had happened. Who was this man? This creature beyond comprehension?

Who had you let into your home?

The sound of the kettle whistling pulled you from the daze you had been in. You were sitting on the sofa, wrapped in multiple blankets, Elijah's coat draped across your lap.

You watched him move about the kitchen, his movements confident and sure.

"Here," he said, handing you a mug of hot tea.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

He sat down next to you, his body close to yours. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you flinched.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised.

"But you killed them," you whispered, your eyes watering.

"I did," he confirmed, his voice calm and steady.

"How?" You asked, looking up at him.

"I have... certain abilities," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Abilities that make me stronger, faster, and more dangerous than any human."

You put your mug down on the table and turned to him, studying his face. He was watching you intently, his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you... are you an alien?" You asked, a hint of fear in your voice.

He laughed, the sound a pleasant rumble.

"No, I'm not an alien," he assured you.

"What are you then?"

"I'm...well.. I think I'm a vampire," he said, sounding uncertain.

A burst of disbelief mixed with terror erupted within you, and you let out a hysterical laugh.

"Vampire," you repeated, shaking your head. "Like Edward Cullen?"

"I don't know who that is," he said, frowning.

You let out another laugh, your mind reeling. It wasn't possible. Vampires weren't real.

"Y/N," he said, his voice serious. "I know this is a lot to take in, but please believe me. I am a vampire. I can't explain how or why, but it's true."

You let him talk as you grabbed your phone and searched up vampires. Showing it to him, and telling him to look at the search results.

"Sparkle in the sun? Not as far as I am aware," he commented, frowning.

"Holy water? Crucifixes?" You pressed.

"I'm not particularly religious," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Garlic?" You questioned.

"I love garlic," he replied, grinning.

"Can you fly?" You asked, wondering how many myths were true.

"I'm not sure," he said, his brows furrowed in concentration. "I've never tried."

He stood up and did a little hop with his arms raised in the air, like some sort of weird bird. You snorted and covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh.

"No flying," he concluded, sitting back down.

"So, how old are you?" You asked.

"No idea," he said, a sad look on his face.

"Oh my god, what if you are like one hundred years old?" You asked, your mind racing with possibilities.

"Perhaps," he mused.

You paused at the next item on the list of vampire traits, and hesitated before asking.

"And the other thing... blood," you read, your stomach turning at the thought.

"Yes," he admitted, a look of shame crossing his face.

"So, when you went into that warehouse…?" You began, remembering how he had returned, wiping his mouth.

"I was hungry, and I needed to eat," he said, his voice low.

"So you just went and killed someone?" You asked, unable to keep the judgement out of your voice.

"No, he was very much alive, just passed out," he explained.

"And you didn't kill him," you pressed, not entirely convinced.

"I didn't," he insisted.

"But what if you did? What if the next time you went to get some 'sustenance' you did actually kill them?" You asked, starting to panic.

"Y/N," he said softly, taking your hand. "I would never hurt you,"

You looked at his face, searching for any signs that he was lying. But his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity, and a hint of sadness. His gaze drifted to your lips, and his expression changed, becoming softer, and a little more intimate.

You quickly looked away, back to the list of vampire facts, and cleared your throat.

"Mind control," you read, and felt his gaze linger on you.

"Not to my knowledge," he replied.

"You can't enter a house without being invited," you continued, and his hand tightened around yours.

"Is that a request, or a demand?" He asked, his tone playful.

"It's a question," you countered, blushing slightly.

"Yes, but most invite me in without hesitation," he said, giving your hand a light squeeze. "You did,"

"Oh," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

Your eyes went back to the mind control section, and a thought crossed your mind.

"Have you used mind control on me?" You asked, a sense of unease washing over you.

"I don't know," he admitted. "If I have, I'm not aware of it."

"Oh," you mumbled, not knowing what to say, but curiosity got the better of you. "Try to, make me do something,"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, something harmless," you said, thinking for a moment. "Make me sing a song,"

"Very well," he agreed, looking thoughtful.

You waited, expecting to start singing. But nothing happened.

"Do you feel any different?" He asked.

"No, nothing," you said, disappointed.

"I don't know what else to suggest," he said, a frown marring his features.

"I don't know, look me in the eye and tell me to do it? Like... Tell yourself you can do it? I don't know… maybe it's a belief thing…?" you offered.

He nodded, and then turned to look directly at you. His dark eyes were intense, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Sing me a song, sweet girl," he said, his voice echoing strangely in your mind.

You told yourself not to sing, to sit quietly and not react. You repeated it over and over, until the words were all that was in your head.

But his voice seeped into the ribbons of your brain, dancing behind your eyes. You lost your awareness of time and space, and suddenly, a melody rose up from within you.

You opened your mouth and the words came tumbling out, and you started singing an old song that had been stuck in your head for days.

Elijah sat back and looked surprised, a small smile on his lips. You stopped singing, your face flushing in embarrassment.

"Holy shit," you gasped, a strange sensation creeping through your mind, like cobwebs being blown away. "It worked,".

"You have a lovely voice," he said, his tone gentle and kind.

"How did you do that?" You asked, feeling unnerved.

"I don't know," he admitted, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "I just believed that I could, and you did as I asked,"

You suddenly stood up, tossing the blankets off of you and heading to your wine rack.

"I need a drink," you declared, and picked a random bottle.

You poured yourself a generous amount, and drank it all in one gulp. Then poured yourself another glass. You looked over at him, and noticed the way his eyes followed the glass as it reached your lips.

"Do you want some?" You asked, the wine giving you courage.

"No, thank you," he replied.

You sat back down on the sofa, and took a long sip. Thinking about all the possibilities of what his vampire status meant.

"Could you mind control my mortgage payments away?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Possibly," he said, smiling a little.

"Could you use your super speed to clean my apartment?" You teased, taking another sip.

"You're not thinking big enough," he replied, his grin growing wider. "I would love to leave this city, find a home in a new town and live a normal life."

"I'm not sure normal is something you could ever be," you quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"You might have a point," he conceded, his tone wistful.

He pointed to the artwork on your walls, you had purchased them at Ikea ages ago. They were those generic wanderlust posters of different famous travel destinations.

"Pick one," he said.

"What?"

"I'll take you there," he offered, his voice soft.

"Seriously?"

"I owe you so much, I think this is the least I can do," he replied.

You stared at him, your mind struggling to process his offer. Was he for real? Was he really willing to take you around the world?

"Paris," you blurted out, a blush rising to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to go,"

"Paris it is," he agreed, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Really?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

"Absolutely," he said, his tone sincere. "I would love nothing more than to take you."

"That's so sweet," you gushed, your face heating up even more.

"So, Paris?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Yeah," you agreed, nodding your head.

"Then we will leave first thing in the morning," he said, his expression brightening.

"But I have work... I need to take time off-" you started to say.

"Forget about all of that," he cut you off, his tone gentle. "I can mind control people, remember? I'll just take care of everything,"

You laughed, the ridiculousness of the situation finally hitting you. He was a vampire, who had mind control powers, and was offering to take you on a trip to Paris.

"This is insane," you giggled, feeling slightly hysterical.

"Indeed," he agreed, grinning.

You finished your wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. His proximity was starting to make you feel hot, and a little giddy.

"So," you began, trying to distract yourself. "I guess I'll go pack my bags,"

"I can buy you anything we need when we arrive," he suggested.

"Are we gonna fly? Like on a plane?"

"I was thinking that I could just jump really hard and we can just land in Paris," he said, a serious expression on his face.

"Oh shut up," you giggled, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

He chuckled and shook his head.

You smiled and sat back, taking a moment to reflect on the day's events. It had been an emotional roller coaster, and your head was still reeling from the revelation that vampires were real, and sitting in your apartment. But the prospect of a trip to Paris made your heart flutter with joy.

"I can't believe I'm going to Paris," you said, letting out a happy sigh.

"We," he corrected, smiling.

"We," you echoed, a warm feeling spreading through you and a huge grin appearing on your face.

This was going to be the best vacation ever.

France was just as magical as you imagined it would be. Elijah took you to the most luxurious hotel in the city, and ordered a feast fit for royalty. The food was incredible, the atmosphere romantic, and the company... Well the company was a bit odd.

The vampire man, who could control humans with his mind, who had saved you from being mugged, and who was now whisking you around the world, was a little hard to ignore.

What was harder to ignore was the raging jealousy you felt every time someone flirted with him. He was like a magnet for hot people of all kinds, and they would flock to him like moths to a flame.

It was ridiculous really. How they would throw themselves at him, practically begging him to fuck them, and he would politely decline. You felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that no matter how good looking they were, no matter how talented their tongue, his attention belonged to you.

You were currently strolling along the Seine, admiring the sights, when you noticed a group of young women watching Elijah.

"They're looking at you," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Elijah didn't bother looking up from his guidebook, but a smirk spread across his lips.

"I'm sure they are," he replied, sounding amused.

"Why are girls so obsessed with you?" You asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I have been told I'm... As the young say these days, a snack," he said, laughing at his own joke.

You couldn't help but snort and laugh along with him. He was a complete dork sometimes, and it made him all the more endearing.

He looked over at you and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had been feeding from plenty of tourists, much healthier blood than the people he found on the streets of New York. His complexion was no longer the sickly grey it had been. Now he looked healthier, his skin glowing, and his eyes shining.

"Do you think I'm a snack?" He asked, his tone playful.

"I think you're an entire six course meal," you replied, trying to sound cool.

"Is that so?" He asked, an eyebrow raising.

You flushed and looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. Why were you acting like such a teenager?

"Yeah," you murmured, fidgeting with your jacket zipper.

"Perhaps you'd like a bite," he said, his voice low and inviting.

"Oh stop it," you groaned, pushing him playfully.

"No seriously, I've seen how you look at me. You want to sink your teeth into me," he teased, giving you a wink.

"That's you, Mr. Vampire," you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him.

He grinned and reached for your hand, taking it in his and bringing it to his lips.

Your heart rate increased, and your cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat rising to your face, and you quickly pulled away.

"You're such a flirt," you finally managed, shaking your head. "I bet if you kissed the hand of one of those girls over there, they would swoon right into the river,"

"I could," he agreed, looking at the group of young women.

The group of girls noticed him looking and they quickly began giggling and whispering amongst themselves. One of the girls waved at him and he waved back, his expression playful.

You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He seemed much happier here in Europe than he did back home, and his smile was infectious.

"See, they are already falling over themselves for you," you laughed.

One of the girls broke off from the group and walked up to Elijah. She was stunning, with long blonde hair, and big brown eyes. She said something to him in French, and he laughed and responded.

When you landed in France, Elijah could speak French perfectly. He didn't even notice he was doing it until you called him out on it. Making you both wonder just how much knowledge was locked away inside his mind.

You couldn't understand what they were saying, but the conversation seemed lighthearted. He took your hand and kissed it again, before saying something else to the girl.

She giggled and looked at you, giving you a wide smile. "Zhou are very lucky to 'ave such a fine 'usband."

You were shocked by her words, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Oh, we're not married," you stammered, shaking your head.

"Oh," she said, her eyebrows raising. "'E is zee lover?"

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. The idea of Elijah being your lover was too ridiculous to consider. But before you could correct her again, he spoke up.

"Oui, je suis votre amant," he purred, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

Your stomach clenched at his words, and your mind struggled to come up with a response.

"Oui, oui, très romantique," the girl giggled, giving you a knowing look. "I'll let you get back to your 'oneymoon,"

She waved at you, and you awkwardly waved back.You watched her join her friends, who all began whispering and giggling again, the blonde fanning herself dramatically and clutching her chest.

"Did you just tell her that we were lovers?" You asked, turning to look at him.

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though he avoided meeting your gaze. “I thought it might discourage her interest.”

Your irritation faltered, replaced by something warmer. “She’s beautiful, Elijah. Why wouldn’t you want her attention?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones. When he finally looked up, his dark eyes were steady but uncertain. “Because she’s not you.”

The world seemed to tilt, the bustling streets fading into silence. You stared at him, your chest tight.

“Elijah...” you began, but whatever you were about to say was lost as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

It was soft at first, hesitant, as though he were unsure if he was doing it right. But when you responded, your hands gripping his coat, your lips parting for him, his hesitation melted away. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

The sound of giggles broke the spell, and you pulled back, breathless and flushed. The group of girls was watching you, their laughter light and teasing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Elijah’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Was that... acceptable?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You laughed softly, your hand sliding to his jaw. “More than acceptable.”

Relief flickered across his face, though his cheeks were still flushed. “I wasn’t sure if I...” He trailed off, his uncertainty palpable.

“You were perfect,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his cheek.

His lips curved into a small smile, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, the city alive around you but forgotten in the haze of the moment.

"That was my first kiss," he said with a small laugh.

You smiled, your hand cupping his cheek, tracing along his jawline. Taking in his handsome face, his deep brown eyes, his soft lips. You wanted more, you wanted it all.

"I have a strong feeling you've done that plenty of times before, you just don't remember," you teased, your gaze darting to his lips.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his fingers gently caressing your sides.

"Perhaps," he conceded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You stood on your tiptoes, and leaned in close, your lips inches away from his.

"Maybe I should refresh your memory," you said, your voice soft and flirty, "Back at our hotel,"

"Yes," he agreed, his smile growing wider. "And after, perhaps we could discuss this 'lover' business further,"

You snorted and playfully hit him on the shoulder, and his deep, sexy laugh echoed through the streets of Paris.

"Shut up, you are so cheesy," you giggled, your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin was.

He took your hand and kissed the top, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Let's go," he said, his voice warm and full of promise.

The two of you rushed down the street, and headed back to the hotel. The possibilities running through your head, making your heart pound with excitement.

Paris was already the most romantic place on earth, but now, with Elijah by your side, it was about to become unforgettable.

It had been quite a while since you last had sex, and you were feeling more than a little pent up. It also didn't help that Elijah was stupidly hot and a complete gentleman.

You had fantasized about him multiple times since the moment you met, and now the opportunity to make those dreams a reality was right in front of you.

You wondered what having sex with a vampire would be like, would he use his fangs? Would he be gentle or rough? You shivered, the thought exciting you more than it should.

The two of you rode the elevator up to your room in silence, both of you trying not to rush, but the tension was thick. He was holding your hand, and when the doors opened, you both hurried down the hall.

You let out a squeal as he scooped you up before you reached the door, carrying you the rest of the way. He used his supernatural speed, and before you could register what was happening, he was already kicking the door open and stepping inside.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and the excitement coursing through your veins. He gently placed you on the bed, and you let out a soft gasp as he crawled over you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and soft.

You could feel the blush spreading across your face, and the heat pooling in your core. He kissed your neck, and you let out a soft moan.

"I confess I haven't done this before," he murmured against your skin, his hands caressing your sides.

"I really doubt that," you said with a laugh, your voice breathless. "Have you seen yourself? Whoever you were before you lost your memories... He was a ladies man, I can guarantee it,"

He laughed and shook his head, slowly unbuttoning your dress.

"I suppose I'll just have to rely on my instincts," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face.

And those instincts... were impeccable.

His hands were warm and gentle on your bare skin, his lips soft and teasing. He took his time taking off your dress, savoring the moment, until you were finally lying beneath him, completely naked.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your face. His eyes were dark and hungry, and you were desperately trying to keep your cool. But it was nearly impossible, especially with his perfect body looming over you.

You leaned up and kissed him, a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. Your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his pants. He chuckled, helping you remove his clothing. Your fingers traced along his firm chest, and down his arms, enjoying the feel of his skin.

You could tell he was a little nervous, his movements slow and tentative. He avoided your gaze, but kept glancing at you. A slight blush crept up his cheeks, and he let out a soft sigh.

"I do not wish to disappoint you," he confessed. "I fear I may fail at this task,"

You cupped his cheek, and gave him a soft smile.

"It's okay," you reassured him, your tone gentle. "We'll figure it out together,"

He nodded, and let out a shaky breath. You kissed him, trying to help him relax, and he returned the gesture with a little more confidence.

You gently guided his hands to where you wanted them, showing him what made you feel good. His fingers gently brushed over your slit, and a soft moan escaped you. He looked a little surprised, but his lips curved into a faint smile.

He began to explore, his thumb circling your clit. His movements were slow and deliberate, and you found yourself arching into his touch.

"Like this?" He asked, his voice soft and teasing.

"Mhm," you murmured, a blissful smile on your lips.

He kissed your neck, and you could feel his fangs brushing against your skin. The thought sent a shiver of excitement through you, and a soft moan slipped out.

His fingers eased inside you, curling just right, and you couldn't help but gasp. He let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"I take it that's the right spot?" He teased, his voice low and seductive.

"Mhm," you moaned, nodding your head.

"What a pretty little sound," he praised, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, and he continued his gentle assault on your senses. His fingers worked you slowly, and his lips on yours felt divine.

The heat was rising, and you could feel the pressure building inside you. His thumb teased your clit, and his fingers stroked you just right. Your hips rocked against his hand, and he let out a soft hum of approval.

"Elijah," you moaned, your voice low and breathless.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"I'm so close," you panted, your nails digging into his skin.

"Go on," he urged, his fingers increasing their pace.

Your breath caught in your throat, your legs trembling. The heat was almost unbearable, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, and then it was crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you.

You opened your eyes, and he was watching you with a bit of wonder in his gaze. You flushed, your heart still pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat in his eyes, and you knew he was enjoying this as much as you were.

When the aftershocks finally faded, he gently withdrew his fingers, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, and a sense of need overtook you.

You splayed your hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back, straddling him, and giving him a good view of your body.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed. He was gorgeous, and you felt a surge of pride knowing that he was yours.

Your hands were moving steadily downward, and when they reached his belt, you slowly started unbuckling it.

His breathing was getting heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you touched him through his boxers. He let out a low groan, his hands reaching for your hips, pulling you closer.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his arousal pressing against your core. His eyes were hooded, and his breathing was ragged. You slowly pulled his boxers down, his thick cock springing free.

"My my," you said with a smirk, taking his length in your hands and stroking him gently. "Is this all for me?"

He groaned, his hips rocking forward, eager for more contact.

"All yours," he panted, his voice low and husky.

You could see the desire in his eyes, the need burning within him. And as his fingers dug into your hips, guiding you into position, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his length, hissing as he stretched and filled you.

"Oh," you moaned, your head tilting back as he bottomed out.

He was big, and it had been awhile, you reached out for him, and he sat up and took your hands, kissing each one.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his tone soft and concerned.

"Yes," you breathed, your eyes meeting his. "You feel really good,"

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and his fingers caressed the small of your back, gently encouraging you to move.

You began rocking your hips, slowly at first, and then building up to a steady pace. You were panting, the friction delicious, and he was gripping your hips tightly, his own movements matching yours.

The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard tapping against the wall. The scent of sex and desire permeating the air.

You could feel the flush spreading across your cheeks, and the heat building inside you. He was hitting all the right spots, and the look on his face was making you even more turned on.

He was watching you with such intensity, his gaze focused on your expression. Every time you moaned, or shuddered in pleasure, his lips would curve into a satisfied smirk, and his grip would tighten on your hips.

You were close, the pressure coiling within you, and you could tell he was close too. His movements were becoming more frantic, and his breathing was coming in short gasps.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He responded eagerly, pushing you backwards, and pinning you beneath him. He gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and then you felt his fangs brush against your neck, and that was all it took.

The pressure released, waves of pleasure washing over you, and you cried out, your legs shaking. He groaned, his movements becoming erratic, and then he was spilling himself inside you, his cock throbbing and twitching.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot on your neck, and his skin slick with sweat. Your fingers gently traced along his spine, and he let out a satisfied hum.

He rolled off of you, and laid down beside you, his hand reaching for yours. You laid on your side, and intertwined your fingers with his, a content smile on your lips.

"That was amazing," you breathed, letting out a soft laugh.

He chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I agree," he murmured, his tone soft and sleepy.

You gently kissed his forehead, and then his cheek, and his lips. He smiled, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful.

You had never seen him like this before, and it made your heart swell. You couldn't help but lean forward and place a kiss on his chest, right above his heart.

You scooted closer, resting your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

"I love you," you whispered, your fingers gently tracing along his collarbone.

He stirred slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, snuggling against him, and letting the warmth of his body lull you to sleep.

It had been a long, strange journey, and there were still so many questions left unanswered, but in that moment, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was the man next to you, and the promise of what the future held.

[ddejavvu]

hiii! this is my first time requesting and I just love your writing so much, you are so talented!

I was thinking about telling early season spencer (3-4) that he has a “slutty waist” and he’s all shy about bc he doesn’t even know what that means.

i’m on spencer’s waist tiktok right now and this popped up in my head😭

It's a bleary observation that you're too groggy to be making in the early hours of the morning, but Spencer hears it anyways, "You've got a slutty waist, Spence."

He actually thinks he mishears you at first, eyes narrowing as he turns from where he'd been tying his tie in the mirror, "Huh?"

"Your waist," You grumble, turned on your side now - still, mercifully, buried beneath the covers with several hours left to sleep - to watch him where he stands, "It's slutty."

"Slutty?" He echoes in disbelief, and you wonder if it's the first time the offensive word has ever passed through his lips, "What does that- what? My waist?"

"Yeah," You nod as vigorously as your sleep-clogged muscles will allow you to, "Look at it, it's all skinny and tight and- and it moves when you walk."

"Are you drunk?" Spencer asks, looking partly aghast and partly amused, "Or- or did you take really strong sleeping medication? You're loopy."

"I'm fine," You manage, brain beginning to fire on more than just one meager cylinder, "Come kiss me, you slut."

"Please stop calling me that," Spencer begs bashfully, cheeks lit up a bright pink. but he complies in record time. Maybe it's to shut you up faster, but he hunches over the bed where you're laying to kiss your sleep-tacked lips.

"I don't wanna," You lament, letting him tuck you back beneath the covers as he rushes to leave, too flustered to handle another round of your rather brash observations about his body without time for a cold shower. He dashes for the door once he's tucked you in, like the blankets are bindings and would stop you from chasing after him. You watch his retreating form, calling out after him, "Have a good day at work, my little slut!"

[dreadsuitsamus]

i'm waiting for my state inspection and this mom is here with her baby and the baby is so cuuuuuuute, the noisy lil thing. and now i'm imagining single parent nanami in a similar scenario with baby yuji, and reader being the only other person in the waiting lounge.

kento gently shushes the boy in his arms, the little thing quickly growing into a ball of energy, even at only six months old. "yuji." he murmurs softly, fruitlessly pressing the baby's pacifier into his mouth. "please settle down."

yuji spits out his favorite binkie, waving his hands around as he babbles to his adopted father his woes. kento nods along with a sigh, glancing over at the only other person in the lounge. "i apologize in advance for any headaches." babies deserve their space in public, no doubt, but yuji is so loud that kento feels the need to at least warn you.

smiling warmly, you wave a hand. "don't worry. i raised a child myself for a time— i assure you, i'm used to it."

for a time? perhaps you're a foster parent; kento initially only planned to be as such for yuji himself, but the bond he formed with the pink-haired cutie quickly became too strong for kento to even entertain the idea of giving him up. "thank you for understanding."

"besides, who could possibly ever be mad at that face?" you coo, waving at an enamored baby yuji. his cheeks blush, the now bashful baby hiding his face in his father's broad chest.

"you only act shy around women." kento murmurs, brow perked as he looks down at his boy.

chuckling, you settle back into the nice armchair and open your magazine again. kento glances over at you as he swipes a comforting hand over yuji's back. feeling eyes your way, you look up to catch his gaze. he's handsome. and a good father, from the looks of it. "how old is he?"

"twenty-seven weeks."

nodding, you pick up the toy yuji carelessly throws to the ground that rolled to your feet. standing and coming to hand it over, your fingers brush kento's. "i take it he resembles his mother?"

kento wipes the toy on his shirt before giving it back to the baby. "i'm not sure. i took yuji in when he was just born; he was left in the cold with a note attached to him." all the note said was the boy's name, and that this was what was best for him. a little digging for further information only provided that the boy's two older siblings have been lost to the system, but kento is determined to eventually bring them all together again as brothers should be.

gasping softly, you take the seat beside kento. "he's been through so much, hasn't he?" you murmur softly, eyes soft as the baby stares at you with big, warm eyes.

"he has." kento mumbles, squeezing his son just a bit. "his spirits are high, despite that."

"no doubt because of you."

kento's cheeks warm. "... thank you."

silence falls, or as silent as it can be with a rambunctious baby in the room. yuji begins to whine after a point, likely hungry! kento swears lowly; he hadn't anticipated it would take this long for his car to be serviced, and that's where the baby's snacks are!

the usual routine of bouncing, tickling and kisses isn't working, and you bite your lip as you watch the struggle. a handful of years ago, you fostered a baby too and are more than familiar with this struggle. "... may i?"

kento considers it, eventually handing the boy over. perhaps you'll be able to settle him just long enough for kento to make a dash into the shop—

yuji stops crying the second he's settled in your arms, that little smile bright. returning his grin, you gently rub his tummy. "now, now... giving your papa such grief isn't very nice!"

the baby is putty in your hands, quiet and giggly and bashful as a conversation stirs between you and kento. an hour passes and yuji's fast asleep by the time kento's name is called, and you stand to walk with him to the car and carefully settle yuji in the car seat. kento straps him in, triple-checking each buckle and strap before he's satisfied enough to close the door.

"thank you for your help." kento murmurs, staring down at you and your sweet face. it's been some time since he's encountered a stranger as lovely as you.

"of course... and, if you'd like..." it's your turn to be bashful now, your eyes flicking from kento's to anywhere else. "um... i'd love to see you and yuji again sometime."

glancing at the soundly sleeping baby through the window, kento gazes back at you. "i— we would like that." his cheeks flush, and your giggle pulls the tiniest of smiles to his lips.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

God the idea of Simon having a s/o that's like wayyy shorter than him something like 5'5 is doing things to me. This man is 6'4 something and he's HUGEEE AF, like i think it would be a turn on for him, having his babe so small underneath him. And i don't even need to get into how probably big he is down there too? The struggle to take him in everytime but the afterwards is a pure bliss. Ugh.

Like, i agree with what you said, this man is an epitome of masculinity. And the need and want to take care, love and protect his mate. <3 <3

Mmm. Mmmm.

Ok I'm just gonna leave this here.

Original photo: @ S0CIALHUNTER on Twitter

This is not a Drill

Word count: 2.2 k

Tags/warnings: SMUT 🔞, a dash of fluff, size kink (obviously), size difference, swearing, premature ejaculation, penetrative sex toy. F!Reader.

A/N: Gaahh. No poetry this time. Just pure filth. Enjoy 🍽

This might just be one of your better ideas.

You've done this in secret for two weeks now, hoping by the time he arrives, you'll be able to surprise him with how well you've trained yourself to receive him.

If you can take a large toy so well, day after day, it should help with taking him in more easily too. Right?

As in, take in the biggest dick you've ever had and, god willing, will ever have.

You're actually quite proud of yourself. Not only does this thing keep you juicy, but it also makes you thirst for him even more. The need to have something even bigger inside you, the knowledge that he can provide that bigger thing, makes your lips purse, makes your walls throb as you remind yourself that tomorrow, your man will finally come home.

…Except that the stealthy fucker has chosen to arrive a day early. You don't even hear him before he's at your bedroom door. Fuck his profession, fuck all that experience in sneaking around, even with all that mass…

He comes in just in time to see how the said dong comes out, slick with your wetness.

Oh shit–

"Well. What do we have here?"

He looks at the brutal object in your hand, then raises his eyes to you – flustered you, lying all naked and throbbing and flushed on the bed. He can barely hold back a smile, but it's his eyes that laugh with an amused gleam.

"Careful or you'll hurt yourself with that thing."

That's some cheese coming from someone who's even bigger than the crude thing in your hand…

"You said you'd come tomorrow," you mewl as your excuse. He cocks his head a little, raises an eyebrow.

"Disappointed?"

"No, of course not, but–"

"You want help with that?"

He gives a side eye to the toy still in your hand. You blink a few times, then reach to set it somewhere, anywhere – the bedside table has to do, but you're too clumsy, and the toy drops to the floor and rolls at his feet.

Jesus, could things get any more embarrassing?

He examines the sorry thing with a stare that says How pathetic. Because even if to you, it's gigantic, it's nothing compared to what he's got in those pants. And he knows it too.

"Now ain't this convenient. I can go straight in, right?"

"I– I'm not sure," you breathe with anticipation.

"Let's give it a try then."

He doesn't even wait for your admission, which would only be a blaring, blazing Yes please sir. He doesn't trouble himself with undressing, merely crawls to the bed and over you.

He pulls back only to get himself out of those jeans, and it always looks like he's drawing out a massive weapon. Even in his hands, which are fucking huge, the cock looks like an oversized beast. He's fully hard, too, probably started to gather blood there the minute he saw you on that bed, puny and shy and caught red-handed.

And he's as impatient as can be: finally, there's a chance he can drive that cock right in, that he doesn't have to warm you up for half an hour with mouth and fingers and hear you cry when it still takes a few tears and some swearing as he guides it inside.

But the toys are no help, it seems. The massive head of his cock disappears in you, alright… But that doesn't mean it feels safe or sound.

"Oh, no. No, no."

He halts, hovering over you with just the tip inside, pulsing wildly.

"No?"

Ugh, why did you have to pick the biggest colossus of a man to be your fuck buddy for the rest of your life?

"Just… slowly, ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

He swallows and gets back to it, more slowly this time, and the spread is delicious – but it's also blinding, and you always have to remind yourself to keep breathing.

You just need to relax; it can fit, it has been there dozens of times before…

"Fuck, you're– you're even tighter down here," he groans with a dry throat and a heavy accent that makes you instantly clench around him.

It appears that you have only managed to train your inner muscles with that ridiculous dildo.

So much for trying to coax yourself open with toys…

He feeds more of that thickness in, in, in, until his balls make contact; they press against your flesh while your pussy hugs him with a perfect O shape. You bite your lip and hold your breath, and you're not the only one gaping at the scene in mild shock and admiration.

"Look at that…"

He doesn't even bother to tone down the drunken arousal in his voice which always drops down a few notes when he's fucking you. But every now and then, it's tinged with concern. How the hell can you even take him fully in?

He glances your way with the smallest smile playing at the corner of his mouth, muscles taut with anticipation. The man simply can't wait to ruin you.

"You ready?"

No…??

You give him a frail little nod and some high-pitched, broken whimpers from your mouth.

"Uh-huh?"

He chuckles, then withdraws, slowly… But the next thrust is not that gentle, and your brows knit together in pleasure and pain. Well, it's not exactly pain, just… It's a little too much. If the angle was even slightly off, it would hurt. The wetness no doubt helps this business, but you still find your teeth sinking into your lower lip again – he starts to roll his hips, fuck you with experimental thrusts that, blessedly, don't plunge too deep.

You feel your inner walls both accommodate him and tighten around him; greedy, like it's no problem at all to have far too big a shaft stuffed down there. And not just crammed, but plowing: back and forth like you're a toy, too.

"What in the bloody hell have you been doing…"

He detects the tense muscles that pull him in every time he reaches the base. You're too small for him; that fact was established long ago. But added with the clenching and throbbing pulse of your cunt, a fervor that tries to suck him like he's a fat stick of candy cane makes his jaw gradually fall open. The man looks like he's going to pass out.

"Were you doing that shit for me?"

You smile and flutter your lashes innocently, all the while a giant is trying to work his giant cock in you.

"Yup. Welcome home, I guess?"

He looks at you, not with mirth, but with reproof. You're playing with fire, toying with a sharp blade, and teasing a man of his size might not be the best of your ideas.

But that's exactly what you are; a goddamn tease. You just can't help it. You know he gets an equal kick out of this setting: of you being so small. Anyone is small compared to him, but you're small compared to anyone. Next to him–not to talk under him–you look like a helpless doll.

And perhaps that's what this is all about: perhaps one of these days, you want him to wreck you.

Use you.

Even the very thought makes your cunt wrap around him again. Massive thighs at least twice the size of yours force your legs wide apart as he goes deeper – so deep that you can feel those balls again, hefty slaps against you as he tries to bury himself inside a place he's not meant to fit.

You always wonder what you look like under him, disappearing entirely under a dark shadow and hundreds of pounds of muscle. Spreading your thighs to offer too tight a slit to what's practically a monster. It must always be forced inside with sweat, patience, and needy grunts. How insane it must look for that thing to disappear inside you again and again until you're loaded with him… His cum never stays inside before you reach the shower, but the feel of it running down your thighs is absolutely glorious.

You notice he slows down the pace, which is odd. Normally, he's fucking you with abandon at this point.

"What's wrong?"

He huffs above you, chest swelling with shallow, alarmed breaths.

"Wrong? What's right, more like…"

He resumes with a thrust or two, looks down to where you are joined, and lets out an aggravated groan.

"I'm sorry, I can't…" He draws back as if to pull out completely, and you whine a complaint. A decision is made right away; he sinks back inside, fills you again and again, until…

"I think I'm gonna cum," he informs with apologetic alarm.

Oh.. Right.

… Already?

"It's ok… it's ok," you sweep your hands up his back, clutch him to make it known that he can collapse like a tower upon you, and you would only feel enthusiastic about getting buried under the rubble.

Use me.

Just fucking take me.

The look on his face is a rare glimpse behind the walls of a remorseless soldier: something primal but vulnerable, something fragile that only you are allowed to see.

"You can use me," you whisper, and it's like a spell that calls upon disaster.

"Ah, Christ…"

It takes only a split-second before he accepts your offer in full. You're planted in the mattress with starved thrusts, his thighs and chest spread you open until he's drilling you in an almost 90 degree angle. You're concerned for the bed's capacity to take this sort of plowing when you should perhaps worry more about your poor abused pussy.

It's such a heaven that your jaw falls open, too. You're dreamy and helpless under him while he's far from feeble. He looks like thunder above you, especially when you're looking at him like he's a demigod.

Like you're in love.

Which you are… And he knows it, even without that adoring bimbo stare you give him.

"Gonna–cum. Fuck, I'm gonna–"

You can almost see the sweat breaking, can feel the cock inside you jolting even when there's no room for it to do such a thing.

"Fuck–! "

It swells inside you as he cums with a painful groan. The orgasm seems to just last and last, and you realize with horror and thrill that the guy hasn't had a wank in days. Work has been a bitch, then, and you get to pay for it – a punishment you suffer with glee.

He gives you his all, squeezing you between arms that feel like a too tight cage, crushing you with a chest that feels like a compression machine burying you under an iron weight. Hard thighs press against yours until you're spread open for him to be buried in to the hilt.

And you know it gives him hell that he finished before you: it's on par with a failed mission, you suppose. Your mission, however, was a success. The body around and over you is coiled tight, but the tension gradually leaves. Obviously it makes him feel even more heavy.

He finally goes slack against you, just like you wished, and you almost squeal while getting imprisoned by a heap of heaving muscles. He's catching both breath and the remains of his pride as he lies there on top of you. The cock inside gives an occasional pulse, but you're forever hungry.

This man should be illegal…

You know you won't be left stranded for long, and seeing him so utterly done gives you enough satisfaction for now. You can wait for him to finish you in other ways.

"You're fucking dangerous," he huffs in your ear while trying not to crush you completely with his weight. He's gathering his strength in the solace of your neck, and you smile like you're on drugs.

"Does that mean you like me..?"

"What do you think," he snorts humorlessly on your skin, but you know he's more than happy. "'Welcome home'... Bloody hell, woman."

"I'm glad you're here," you laugh and place a hand on that broad back to caress him gently.

"Yeah. You can keep that toy."

"Perhaps I'll finish myself with it," you chirp to annoy him a bit more. Another triumph: you have to suppress a laugh upon hearing him groan.

"Now give me a bloody minute…"

Poor man. The thought that you feel just too fucking good to him, so good that it makes him lose control, gives you such a high that it's just sinful. The thought that a stoic goliath like him is rendered weak on top of a small, harmless woman is more intoxicating than a wine glass filled to the brim.

You pet the back of his neck and know he's probably tired from work and wants to sleep. You wouldn't object to falling asleep too while he's holding you.

"How about we give it another try after a nap?"

Your offer makes him rumble softly, contently; the man's ready to drop but also thoroughly enamored. Your heart skips a beat from pure happiness.

"Mm. You always have the best ideas."

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hi maggots, it's Asmi!

It seems we have arrived at That Point again, when I need a new intro post. So here we are! The Official (kidnapped) Good Omens Mascot and uh Maggot Prince has returned with a fresh post.

First, before I talk about myself, here are some important links that people ask me for and I want to make sure they're accessible:

The Official Maggots Server of Doom on Discord: The server of kindness and chaos and brainrot where we just vibe (I promise you'll be welcome there, whoever you are, maggot, so many people who were shy are now screeching at me and I love that). Link here.

Weirdly-Specific-But-Ok The Youtube Channel: Yes, thanks to the 10khaos post, I made a Youtube channel. I intend to cause a lot of chaos on it, I have already begun. Hehe. Link here.

My Ko-fi: Ummmm this exists? Wahoo a Ko-fi. No pressure and I appreciate you all whether you're a silent lurker, causing chaos, supporting me with words or supporting me on Ko-fi. I love you. Link here.

My PO address and email: I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU, SNAIL MAIL OR MAIL OR OTHERWISE! Link here.

The Good Omens Ad: A lot of you ask me what Good Omens is about. Never fear! I wrote an advertisement for it ages ago, and @1800ineedshelp edited it fabulously. Link here.

Okay I think that's the important parts, I'll edit it later, and now... uh HELLO!

I'm Asmi, I'm 20 years old, he/him, very queer and probably napping at any given moment of the day. Because of a chaotic post, I now have a fandom. My fans, such as they are, are known as maggots. There is a lot of significance behind that (accidentally, I just picked it because it looked like mascot kind of).

I am the Official Good Omens Mascot, because I was kidnapped by the fandom in January after I made a summary post of Good Omens without watching it, just by what I saw on my tumblr dash. I have grown very fond of this title and the fandom, and have since watched the show (some episodes twice).

Also, this blog is a safe space for all queer people, and yes that includes aroace-spec people, trans people, all queer people. If you don't agree with that, there's the door *points to a pit of boiling sulphur*.

ANYWAY YES ENOUGH TALKING WELCOME TO THE CHAOS JUST BE KIND AND RESPECTFUL OF EACH OTHER, BE AS IRREVERENT TO ME AS POSSIBLE, AND WE'LL GET ALONG GREAT. YOU DON'T NEED TO INTERACT TO BE PART OF THIS FAMILY, EVERYONE IS WELCOME! WAHOO!

[if you see talk of spare organs, the Wibbles Incident, Fae kidnapping, Red Bull-induced madness, me thirsting over Crowley etc, don't worry about it, it's normal here. just be careful when gardening and/or fishing is mentioned, it's a trap.]

I LOVE YOU!

[topherwrites]

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑺' 𝑬𝑽𝑬

summary - a witch and he-man... what an interesting pairing. (aka, jake is taking his niece trick or treating around his building and can't help knocking on your door.)

pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader

word count - 2.3k

rating - no smut, but 18+ anyways, mdni!

content warnings & tags - age gap (reader is in her early twenties, jake is thirty) / reader and jake are neighbors / no use of (y/n) / flirting / pre-relationship / fluff / lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: anyways, i'm going to post this then go to a halloween party! hopefully i'll get a little tipsy and meet my own jake. here's a link if you don't know what he-man looks like. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Jake isn’t one to hesitate, certainly not in the sky and rarely on the ground. At least that's the story he's been telling himself until the sight of, 8F, your door numbers, have his knuckles pausing just before contact. Now, he’s reevaluating.

You're the one door that he's been simultaneously dreading and anticipating, the feeling swirling into an unidentifiable pit in his stomach.

It's early in the evening, and even though he definitely saw your apartment number on the signup sheet for the building's trick-or-treating, he's not entirely sure if you'll even be home. It is Halloween, and you're young, younger than him by probably a few years; there’s probably some big Halloween party that runs until dawn breaks that you're attending.

There's been plenty of nights where he's getting home from the Hard Deck to crash, having had probably one beer too many at his age, and your night is only just starting. Some skin-tight number riding up your thighs as you pass by him with a pretty smile that has his head turning. His drunken attention captured, eyes following you down the hall.

He's holding onto the hope that you're out as he knocks, hoping that you're not about to see him dressed up in this ugly little wig and red tighty-whities. Why didn't they give him a far more dressed reboot?

His hope is dashed as the door swings open, revealing your pretty face. 

You’re dressed as a witch, sort of. Really, you're just wearing a short black dress, a pointy hat, and matte red lipstick. Fairly minimal effort. But you look great and Jake is wearing a yellow wig that's basically a bowl cut, so...

Your eyes drag up Jake’s form, not entirely shy about checking him out in return, his heart picking up at the look there. Arms crossed, you lazily rest your upper body on the door jam with a charming smile. There’s a tease in your voice as you say, “Cute. Though aren’t you a little old to be trick or treating?”

Quickly, he nudges his seven-year-old niece, Mia, out from where she’s shuffled behind his legs, shielding herself from view. Her winged gold She-Ra crown knocks slightly askew as she moves. 

She's shy in a way that Jake and his siblings were not at her age. His parents had to deal with three entirely fearless, entirely stupid children—an entirely different beast. His sister is hoping that trick-or-treating through his apartment building, a controlled foray into interacting with strangers will instill a little confidence in her. Her grip on his hand tightens as your gaze bounces down to her.

You straighten up, coyness softening into a genuinely kind, kid-friendly look. You glance back at him, a sympathetic pinch to your brow.

“My niece, Mia,” he unnecessarily clarifies. He’s sure his whole life screams bachelor to any woman looking. 

He thinks you have been. Flirty exchanges at the mailboxes, and dragging looks in the elevators, arms brushing as you lean on the back wall, standing closer than necessary as you exchange lingering small talk.

The lights in your apartment are low. Your living room is far enough down the hall that it’s blocked from view, but the wall behind you is illuminated by your TV screen, an unchanging blue glow. 

A young girl, probably only a year or two older than Mia, skids into the hallway, sliding in on her socks. She’s dressed as a black cat, with a little tail and ears, and feline-like face paint.

You turn to look at her. Her painted-on whiskers move as she asks you, “Can we play the movie?”

Your brow scrunches. Biting your lip, you hold up a finger to her, "One sec." You turn back to him. "My brother and sister and their kids are over. We're gonna watch Coraline. Would you and Mia wanna watch with us?"

He looks down at his niece. She seems apprehensive at the idea, her lips pressed tightly together as she looks up at you. He lightly tugs her hand, pulling her attention. Her eyes come back to him.

He gently inquires, "Do you wanna go watch a movie?"

She hesitates, and he's about to take that as a no when you drop into a crouch so you’re eye to eye with Mia. You lean in conspiratorially, briefly looking over your shoulder. "You know, Abby," you nod to the girl who's now tugging on her cat tail, “She's also a big She-ra fan."

Your niece waves at Mia at the mention of her name, brightening up a little at the idea of a shared interest. She unnecessarily raises her voice, like ten feet is a chasm she won't be able to be heard from, "I really like your costume."

Mia's grip tightens on his hand, but she looks up to ask him, "Can we?"

He's a little surprised by that, but then you smile up at him from your crouch, and he understands completely; you're persuasive, with your kind eyes and carefully chosen words. He thinks a siren would've been a more accurate costume.

He nods, "Sure, yeah."

You slap your thighs, hopping to your feet. Swinging the door all the way open, you gesture in, "Alright, great. Come on in."

Immediately, Abby is charging ahead, taking hold of Mia's hand and pelting her with questions as she leads her to the living room, a new friend acquired. She’s clearly unburdened by feelings of anxiety around new people. Murmurings of, Who's your favorite character? hit his ears.

You both just stand in the doorway for a moment as you watch them walk away. But then your eyes drop to his scantily clad state, humor quicking your lips. "How are you not cold?" You don't wait for his response. Continuing, voice dropping into something smoother, right back to teasing, “Bringing the kid as a front to flirt with me is kind of low, 8B.”

And while he didn't intend for his niece to be an in with you, this is sort of the moment he’s been waiting for since you moved in all those months ago—up close and personal. The thrill of it seizes control of his brain, rendering him unable to volley a flirtation right back. He’s blue-screened—a little icon circles as you shut the door behind him.

A man's voice calls from the living room, cutting off the reply his brain was working at full capacity to form, “Who’s kid is this?”

You tug at his wrist, and he pliantly follows you to the archway of the living room, keeping just a step behind you. You thumb at him over your shoulder, "This is Jake and his niece, Mia."

Your brother gives him a brief nod of acknowledgment, almost entirely uncaring about his presence beyond confirming some random child didn't just stroll into your apartment. Rolling his beer bottle in his hand, he turns back to look at what seems like fantasy football scores on his phone.

He feels another pair of eyes drag over him; your sister sitting in an armchair has, an apparently genetic, shit-eating grin on her face. She covers the side of her mouth with her hand, but the angle she's sitting at gives him a full view of her mouthed words—the persistent smile on her face makes it clear she’s aware—as she questions you, “Hot neighbor?”

Something shoots from the base of his spine to his heels at the knowledge that you've, at the very least, mentioned him to your sister—enough that he's been dubbed 'hot neighbor'. You laugh wryly, shooting your sister a scathing look as your hand curls around his bicep, warmth soaking into his skin from your palm as you drag him off to your kitchen.

He can't help the smile that works its way onto his face.

Your kitchen is much the same as his, except for the rust-colored pot rack hanging over the island in the middle. There is a pumpkin-carving station set up there, newspaper set down with guts strewn around. A few pumpkins sit on your countertop, out of the way, with already carved faces.

You quickly pivot from your embarrassment to his. "So, the get-up is..."

"She insisted on cartoon accuracy. Don't let the doe eyes fool you; she's a little tyrant."

"I think you just wanted all the hot moms in the building to know that you have abs." You pivot before he can reply—you seem to have a tendency to do that—inquiring, "Do you want me to get you a robe or something?"

"Yes, please."

You disappear down your hallway. Jake, all the while, wonders how he can salvage his dignity. He slips the Little Lord Fauntleroy-esque wig off his head, leaving it abandoned on the counter. Running a hand through his hair, he finds a bit of sweat has collected on his scalp—probably equal parts from the suffocating wig and interacting with you. 

His eyes spot his reflection in the chrome of your fridge. He scrutinizes his appearance there, preening as he tries to put his hair back into some flattering form. It's not nearly as bad as helmet hair, but only by a slight margin.

You come sauntering back in just as Jake figures his hair is as good as it’s gonna get, robe and bucket of candy in hand. He gratefully takes the plush bathrobe from you, his thumb running over an embroidered insignia with a lion and a crown, Ritz-Carlton underneath. You're a robe thief. He probably shouldn't find petty theft as amusing as he does. wrapping it around himself.

“So what’s your poison?” You regard him, “Or are you one of those miserable people who don't eat candy on holidays?”

“I... am not one of those miserable people.” His fingers just barely close on the plastic of the wrapper before you flick your wrist, the candy flopping backward, just out of his grasp.

Batting your lashes at him, your voice drops, "I need to hear the magic words."

He rolls his eyes, the words coming out as a sigh though he’s enjoying the whole play of this, "Please?"

"Noo, by the power of...?"

He can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him, regardless of the fact that you're having a laugh at his expense. His chin drops to his chest, shoulders shaking with it. He breathes the laugh out with a sigh, pressing his lips together to try to keep his smile from spreading, unwilling to let you know just how be-witched he is by you. It’s a poor attempt.

He recites the line, "By the power of Grayskull."

You seem overtly pleased by this. You smack the Kit Kat bar into his awaiting palm, and the slightest brush of your fingertips against his skin sends electricity shooting up his arm.

You hand him the candy, turning back to the fridge. A laugh lighting up your eyes, you casually throw over your shoulder, "You're obedient."

An hour later, he’s elbow-deep in pumpkin guts, clearing yours for you as you blatantly watch him, chin in hand.

It's clear that neither one of you really wants to go back to the living room yet; you're both just playing for time, trying to find a reason to stay in this bubble.

"If there weren't children present, what would you be watching in celebration of the holiday?"

"Probably 'The Thing'." Your eyes connect over the table, "What about you?"

“Shaun of the Dead, or maybe, Scream?”

You hum approvingly, and, again, he feels a little tickle of self-satisfaction work its way through him. 

He’s not really good at this—the flirting and winking and fucking he can do, no problem—but the seeing someone every day, the conversations, the connecting… he’s less good at. He’s been alone for so long that it's like an atrophied muscle, weak with disuse. 

But here, in your kitchen, as you pick a pumpkin seed off his shoulder, it feels less insurmountable. 

It's only hours later that he scoops up a half-conscious Mia, the night clearly over with the credit roll of Paranorman. Your brother scoops up and corralls his own out the door.

Your sister approaches him, handing him a slip of paper with her number on it. She smiles. "Not hitting on you. Give that to her mom, maybe the girls can have a playdate sometime."

She leaves him with a knowing wink as she shuts the front door.

Before this night, he was attracted to you, coy and pretty. But now, it might be a little something more. Because, as he's come to find out, you're also kind and generous and funny. You didn't need to open your home to him, could've just put some candy in her bucket and sent them to the next door. But instead, you went out of your way to broker a friendship between two kids.

The hall is quiet as you open the door for him. Warm light from the sconce-lined hallway settles gently over your features. He lingers at the entrance. He doesn’t want the evening to be over yet, but it’s close to his niece's bedtime, and he’s probably already overstayed his welcome. However, the silence that falls over both of you is calm. Not like you’re just counting down the seconds till he leaves.

He shifts his hold on his softly snoring niece, dropping a kiss to your cheek. Quietly, he can hear your breath catch. Pulling back, there's scant room between your bodies despite the blockade of his niece's slumbering form. Your lashes flutter open.

"Thank you for tonight."

Silently, with two fingers hooked on the handle, you return to him the plastic pumpkin bucket. It's significantly fuller than when they showed up to your door; you must've topped it up from your own stash before handing it back. 

You speak just a brush above a whisper, "Anytime. Don't be a stranger."

There's a beat of a shared smile before he turns, and all Jake can think as he ambles down the hall, back to his apartment, is, I won't be.

a/n: thank you for reading and happy halloween!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 18

The next afternoon Kara waits anxiously alongside Esme at the front window, searching for the standard SUV that Lena typically uses. To her surprise, the vehicle that eventually turns into the driveway isn't an Escalade, but rather a small sedan with only one occupant.

Kara watches the driver's silhouette lift her hood up and adjust her sunglasses, before Lena steps out. Unaware of being watched, Kara spots a flash of apprehension wash over the woman's features, but she reaches into the back for her overnight bag nonetheless.

Motioning for Esme to stay put, Kara crosses to the front door and swings it open. Lena's features brighten under her sunglasses, sending a shiver of desire down her spine. She can't remember if any of her prior partners had ever been so outwardly glad to see her. Kara decides she likes being the thing to make someone's day better.

"Hey," Lena greets softly as soon as she's in range.

"Hey," Kara returns. She stands aside so Lena can step inside. They don't embrace, let alone kiss, so once the door is closed they stand in a sort of awkward, delighted, tentative silence.

"Hi," Esme chirps, nervous herself for an entirely different reason. When Kara had emerged from the guest room following her call with Lena the day before, Esme had been ready to disavow her idol completely-- but her relief in finding out Lena remains in Kara's good standing had been palpable.

Halfway through removing her sunglasses, Lena freezes for half a heartbeat. Then her eyes zip to Esme, and Lena's face splits into a huge smile. Kara wonders if Esme can tell that this smile is different from the ones she'd gotten after the concert. Oh, Lena had been just as genuine then, but this time... this time Lena's smile is deeper, warmer.

"Hi Esme," Lena returns brightly. "How are you?"

"Great! I mean--" Esme rocks back on her heels, doing her best to temper her eagerness. "Fine."

Lena's gaze flicks bemusedly to Kara, who meets it with a knowing smile. Green eyes return to Esme, her smiling taking on a shy look. "Can I have a hug?"

Esme's face explodes into glee. "Yes!"

She bounds to Lena and throws her arms around her as Lena laughs and hugs just as tight.

"Thank you for letting me stay the night," Lena tells her.

"Are you kidding?? This is so cool! My friends would die if they knew--!" Esme halts her chatter, stricken. "They don't! I swear, I haven't told *anyone*."

Kara, Alex, and Kelly had stressed the importance of discretion for the next few days, and Esme had quickly gotten on board. As teenaged as she is, with all the frivolity that entails, Esme is sensitive enough to know that being loose with Lena's plans would hurt Kara, and ultimately hurt her whole family.

"I know," Lena assures her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Esme squeaks.

"Hey," Lena says, "do you like that new witch show? The one with--"

"The one with Samantha Arias?" Esme gasps. "Yes!! Omg I love it!!"

"It airs tonight, right? I rarely get to watch it live, so if you don't mind the company...?"

"You watch it too?!? Yes, yes, yes! Oh my god... we can make popcorn, and drink  cider, and you can use my skull mug--"

Eyes flying wide, Esme detaches from Lena with a jerk. "I think we ran out last week! Hold on, I gotta go check--" She dashes towards the kitchen, where Alex and Kelly were graciously giving them space.

"Mom!! Do we have cider?! Lena wants to use my skull!"

Lena watches Esme go, and when she turns back to Kara her lips are pressed tight against the laughter about to bubble out.

"She's been really excited to see you again," Kara says quietly. She sidles over, hands in her pockets. "I think the photos hit her harder than they did me."

Lena's cheeks flush. "Kara, I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve... any of that. If I'd known they'd be released I would have told you from the start."

Kara nods. "I know. And thank you." She pauses. "How are you doing? I'm not the one who was actually in the photos this time."

A huff of frustration answers her. But Lena simply shrugs. "It comes with the territory. Still sucks though."

"I'm sorry."

"The worst part is that I can't even really do anything about it," Lena continues softly. "No bridge is ever truly burned in this industry, so... I don't know."

Kara takes her by the hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Well, you don't have to think about it today, or tomorrow."

Lena smiles, chasing the shadows from her features. "Very true."

"You ready to meet the rest of my family?"

"You bet." Lena's confidence lasts for a millisecond, before it wanes to a grimace. "But in all honesty... how much does your sister hate me?"

Kara snorts. "She doesn't *hate* you..."

"But she doesn't like me."

"She hasn't even met you," Kara reminds her, but relents a moment later. "But let's just say she's more Team Kara than Team Luvers"

Lena blinks. "Team Luvers?"

"Our portmanteau, according to Esme. Popped up after the photos did... Though I'm not sure who the other team is supposed to be."

"Oh my god--" Lena says, covering her mouth even as she smiles. "I had no idea--"

Kara believes her. With the tour schedule the way it is, and how quickly Lena had flown out after last nights show, she likely wouldn't have had time to check the comments, if she'd even had a mind to read them.

"Well, if Esme says it's true, it's gotta be. She's got her finger on the pulse of your fanbase, let me tell you."

She moves to pull Lena towards the kitchen, but pauses when Lena resists.

"I'm glad," Lena says softly. "That your sister is Team Kara. That you have your family as a support system."

Kara flushes, warmed by the sentiment. "Not so different from you, huh. What with your mom--"

Lena steps forward, pressing one finger to Kara's lips. Kara is too enthralled by Lena's closeness to mind the unexpected shush.

"Your family and my mother are not the same." Lena's finger lifts, only to be replaced by a soft kiss. "And be glad for that."

Then Lena steps away, and Kara teeters for a moment before regaining her balance and her senses.

"Right," she coughs. "Got it. So-- time to meet the in laws?"

Lena chuckles. "Let the gauntlet begin."

[lost-in-fandoms]

Crazy today about Daniel having a belly piercing (just imagine that omg lfjdksjg that post in my dash has made me crazy about the idea of Max discovering Daniel has a belly ring and he starts buying the prettiest piercings he sees but he isn't brave enough yet to give them to Daniel) and crazy about Daniel with furry thighs and Max seeing the picture and being instantly obsessed about it!!!!!!

this is just the tiiiiniest thing because I am obsessed with this but I don't have the energy to do it justice. Hope you still like this little little snippet.

Max knows that what he's doing isn't completely healthy. Or sane. But it's also not hurting anyone, so he doesn't feel like he's really supposed to stop. And as long as nobody knows, nobody can judge him.

It had started on what at first at been a very normal day: drive to the track, get changed, drive in free practice, eat some food, change again, drive some more. And then he had ruined it all by going to knock on Daniel's door.

It was still a bit of a thrill, knowing that Daniel was there, right next door, and that he could knock and Daniel would answer.

He just didn't expect Daniel to open the door while shirtless.

"Hey Maxy, just finishing here, then I'm all yours!" Daniel had said, all cheerful and relaxed, stepping back again to let Max in.

He had said something else while moving around the small room, blabbering about something Max had not really followed along with, his brain suddenly filled with static.

It's not that he had never seen Daniel shirtless before. Everyone had seen Daniel shirtless before, and Max was one of the lucky people who had seen him quite a few times, but something was different since the last time he had had that pleasure.

Daniel had a belly piercing.

He had turned away before Max had gotten a real chance of looking at it, but it was there. It was small and shiny, perfectly sitting between the hardness of his abs and the soft curve of his lower belly, where it just barely jutted out.

It had been just a glimpse, but it had changed something.

It had been almost innocent at first. He had found himself looking up belly piercings, just to see, just to maybe get a better idea on how Daniel's could look like. And some had been so pretty, and they would look so good on Daniel's skin, and it wasn't a crime to buy piercings even if you never plan on having them worn. He was supporting small businesses!

He knew that if he asked, Daniel would probably show it to him. Daniel had never been particularly shy about his body, at least around Max, and it wasn't a crime to look either. But he wasn't used to lying, especially to himself, so he knew that if he asked, and if he got permission to look, and maybe even to touch, the probability of him losing control a little too much was going to be too high to risk it.

Because what had started as innocent shopping had turned into very interesting porn searches. And fantasies. And unfortunately timed wanks.

If Max was in the business of being ashamed of himself, he would probably be heavy with it. As it is, he just does his best to not think about what this all means, and tries to give himself some free time in his schedule, just in case he needs to fit in a meeting with his right hand at the last minute.

And if the little pile of unused piercings grows in his bedside table, then nobody needs to know.

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter one:

Welcome to Greenwood

Series Masterlist

Next Part: Inhale, Exhale.

Word Count: 4,893

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

The sound of the bell rattling on the front door pulled your mind away from the cake on the rotating stand in front of you and the piping bag in your hand. Coincidentally, you had just sent your cashier to break so you moved your work station to the decorating desk visible to the doorframe into the kitchen of your bakery, allowing you to see the customers as they walked in.

"Hey there, honey! I'll be right with ya'." You greeted the customer as you piped out the final details on the custom ordered cake you had spent the last half an hour perfecting.

"No worries, take your time." A polite voice responded.

Your head immediately turned at the sound of the deep and slightly raspy voice you had never heard before. In a scanty little town like Greenwood, you swore just about every friendly face within thirty miles of your bakery had stopped by for a treat at least once. You could recognize just about anyone with a blindfold on and nothing but the sound of a friendly greeting, but that charming bass was one you'd be sure to recognize if you've heard it before.

It belonged to a face you'd also be sure to recognize. An over six-foot stunner with blue eyes, a nicely groomed beard, and what looked like dirty blonde hair hidden behind a baseball cap.

You grinned before looking back at your cake, trying to process the new specimen in the lobby. It only took a few seconds before placing the piping bag down and ripping off your gloves, curiously walking out to behind the counter to help him out.

"Sorry about that, what can I get'cha?" Since you closed most of the distance, nothing but the bake case between you two, you got to notice more detail.

There was some serious muscle happening underneath the black long sleeved shirt he was wearing. Also, he was really good at picking out jeans that fit him perfectly in all the right places. Oh, and there was just a dash of green in the blue of his eyes.

"Just a chocolate chip cookie please." He asked timidly. You could tell he felt a little out of place, rocking back and forth on his heels in attempts to sooth his unsettled energy.

"Anything else?" You grinned.

"No thank you." He gently shook his head and walked over to the register as you put his cookie in a pastry bag.

"Okay but I'm giving you two cookies, because I think anyone who only gets one cookie is lying to themselves." You called out with a friendly smile, earning a chuckle from the man.

It allowed you to get a good look at his smile. He had pretty pink lips and perfect pearly whites.

Now, it was time for the investigative process you perfected to the tee. It usually started with an extra cookie and a big sparkling smile, followed by some friendly questions, and ending with a 'hope to see you again sometime soon'. You didn't mean to be invasive, really, you just needed to have all the answers when your neighbor, Georgia, asks for more information once you inevitably ask her if she knows anything about the new stunner in town.

"Well thank you, I appreciate that." He grinned, pulling the wallet out of his jeans.

"I don't think I've seen you around before, are you driving through?" You asked.

Steve shifted once more as he thought about how to answer this question. Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. His face had been plastered on every the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. If he was still in the 40's he was sure his face would take the place of the missing persons on the sides of milk cartons.

It had been just a few long months shy of a year , just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, it had calmed down enough for him to feel comfortable trying to settle down for as long as he safely could.

He finally found someone to rent him a house in a town quaint enough for his liking that was willing to accept under the table cash payments in rent, no proof of income, and didn't ask too many questions.

"I'm actually moving to Greenwood in the next couple days, I just picked up the keys to my new place. Saw the bakery sign and decided to stop by, figured a new start is grounds for a little celebrating." Steve explained, convincing enough.

All he could do was cross his fingers in hopes you didn't care about politics or the news enough to recognize his face.

"Really? What made you want to move here?"

He shrugged, and his lips stretched into a straight line. "Just wanted to go somewhere quiet and relaxing I guess. You know, the simple life."

"Well, most people here spend their days chasing something a bit more exciting and busy. I think you're in for exactly what you hoped for" You reassured him. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't catch your name?"

The pet name that seemed to run off your tongue without a second thought felt warm and welcoming to him. In the big city, a sentiment like that was a title that was typically earned, but here it was given with almost an immediate understanding that everyone around was inherently good and trustworthy. He almost didn't want to tell you his name so he could keep hearing the word slip passed your lips.

"Oh, sorry!" He apologized. "I'm Steven."

Steven? Really? Already off to a bad start. He told himself when he settled down for a bit he'd be distant to the people around him. Never get too close, never tell the truth, go by an alias. But for some reason, he just couldn't get himself to lie to you. You just seemed too sweet for that.

As he took another look around his new surroundings, he chalked it up to be the homey atmosphere of the bakery. The walls were covered in tasteful art installations, celebrating the very pastries that were being perfectly displayed in the illuminated case. Although the color schemes of earth tones, contrasting yet complementary wood colors and grains, and mixed metals seemed like it wouldn't work for a bakery, it worked for this bakery. It was warm and inviting; the polished concrete floors reminded him of the home he once knew. The wall-full of jarred sprinkles in all sorts of different blends and colors to match with the bakery and playfully pull the interests of customers eyes made him feel a sense of child like wonder again.

The booths were built into cozy corners, there were lounge areas with low to the floor tables with alternate seating, a tasteful shelf full of board games for families and friends alike to play together while enjoying a coffee and a treat.

It smelled like browning butter and vanilla beans. There were throw pillows on the booths and lounges. On the main wall behind the bake case and above the beautiful espresso machines read the name of the shop, 'Nice to be kneaded' in a warm golden neon glow.

Steven it is.

"Well, Steven," You handed him the bag of cookies, he hesitated to take them from you. "Everyone who decides to make a home out of Greenwood deserves a warm welcome. Here's to a quiet and relaxing new start."

"Thanks I appreciate it" He smiled. "How much for the cooki-"

"They're on me today" You insisted.

"I couldn't possibly do that" he declined the offer. He was used to the generous hand outs as Steve Rogers, but never just as Steven. "Please let me pa-"

"Nope." You stepped back from the register. "Take them and go before I force you to take a third one!"

"So threatening!" He smiled and put his hands up in defense. "Thank you so much"

"Of course, have a good day! Hope to see you again soon." You waved, walking back into the kitchen to finish off the cake that was almost near perfect.

"Have a good one"

After finishing up the cake, you tagged the board with the invoice of the correct customer, then walked it back into the front to the cake display fridge to pop it in so it would be perfect and ready for pickup later that day.

You started tidying up the lobby of the store by re-organizing all of your retail items. Cute candy bars, greeting cards made by local artists, birthday candles, and the wall shelves full of sprinkles. You had a knack for making sure your store looked perfect and pristine at all times. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where you were now, so you'd be damned if you let it be anything less than perfect.

You tidied up the bake case one last time and straightened up the register before the tip jar caught your eye, inside of it was a crisp $20 bill that definitely wasn't there before Steven.

Though there were a few customers in the store, all of them were students looking for a calm place to study. Headphones over their ears, their noses dug into their laptops. None of them had even moved in the last twenty minutes.

The smile and eye roll that took over your face was almost invasive, and you instantly knew the polite man would have no issue fitting in here in Greenwood.

Though you let your precious employees keep their well earned tip, you did take a $20 bill out from your own wallet and vowed to keep it with you every day until you hopefully found Steven again.

Just like every other day, you stayed at work until it was far too late before locking up and going home. You didn't even get passed your open car door in the driveway before your beloved neighbor Georgia was exiting her front door and running out of her house to greet you.

"It's about damn time, sweet cheeks, I was near ready to file a missing persons report!" She enthused.

Georgia never failed to be your best friend, gossip buddy, and the honorary mother you always wished you had. She'd send her husband to bed alone all night just to stay up and make sure you got home okay if she knew you were out late.

"Sorry" you giggled, grabbing the box of pastries you brought home with you and handing them to her. "Busy day! Treats for your troubles?"

She happily took the box from you knowing that whenever she was given one, there was always something mind-meltingly delicious on the inside. "You know Michael and I have put on a good five pounds in the last few months, and I fully blame you for it."

"Hey! I know you love a big boy, I'm doing you nothing but favors." You denied the blame. "Plus, you're pretty as a peach. A sweet thing like you deserves a sweet treat at least once a day."

"I ran over here to tell ya, we're hosting game night for the block on Saturday. If you don't come I'm going to keep rescheduling it until you do." She insisted.

"Saturday sounds lovely." You accepted the invitation. "What can I bring?"

"Just your pretty face"

"Okay, I'll bring salted caramel bars" You smiled.

"Bring a date" Georgia insisted.

"Now now, watch yourself..." You scolded, pointing your finger at her.

"You've been living in this beautiful house all by your lonesome for three years now. You know all I want is for you to be happy"

"I'm happy all on my own." You insisted with a smile you really had to force yourself to smear across your face. "I don't need a man to make me happy, I've got everything I need."

"You've got no one to prove that to but yourself, sweet cheeks." Georgia reached out and pinched your cheek between her fingers lovingly once she saw how deflated you became..

"Believe it or not, it's kind've hard to find someone worth your time in greenwood when your only options are guys you've already tried your hand at" You defended yourself.

"And what's wrong with that?" Georgia sassed.

"All the good ones are married, and all the bad ones are still bad. So if you don't mind, I'll be bringing some salted caramel bars on Saturday." You smiled.

"I haven't given up hope, and you shouldn't either!"

"Who said anything about giving up hope?" You furrowed your brows together and cocked your head to the side.

"...you have a good night now darlin'" Georgia smiled with a slight chuckle before waving and starting to walk away.

"Mmmmhmmm" You sassed. "Enjoy those pastries."

"I always do!"

The moment you walked into your humble abode, you could feel the weight of your day fall off your shoulders. Even more so as you put down your bag, kicked off your shoes, and dragged your feet up the stars with a heavy thunk on each step just to get yourself into the warm shower you had been dreaming of since waking up at 3:30am. 

Just like a responsible adult, you cooked and fed yourself dinner then ate it on the couch with a thick faux fur blanket over your lap while watching The Great British Baking Show. Georgia liked to yell at you when she invasively yet also somehow welcomely showed up at your house with no warning and caught you using your time away from baking to, well, watch a show about baking?

Your defense was that their recipes are just so different over there! The difference in American and British flavor palettes was immense, and you loved getting new ideas for fun new pastries and flavors to implement onto the rotating menu.

After scolding you, you'd point to the Television above your fireplace to show her how they were doing a technical challenge to bake the perfect Victoria sponge cake, a quintessential and uniquely british dessert, and how that was so much different than your typical vanilla sponge in the States. Then, it would peak her interest.

You were never really sure if she was actually interested, or if she only payed attention because she desperately thought you needed someone to listen to you. Sometimes when you babbled on about baking, she would slow blink at your before gently saying, "Baby, you might as well be speaking a whole other language to me right now, but I'm just so happy you're doing what you love."

She'd get comfortable on your couch as you made her a cup of tea, the end up staying until her husband Michael called and reminded her that she had a husband at home.

But tonight you were happy to just be shoving some pesto pasta in your face with the company of no one but Netflix in complete peace. The small sensation of an almost distant ache in the back of your head also had you thankful that they had finally either finished, or were taking a break from construction on the little house next door to yours.

You didn't mind it much at first, you were gone for most of the day to miss the sounds of sawing and jackhammering, but sometimes the sounds would continue even after sunset and keep you awake past your geriatric bedtime. Sleep was very important when you had to wake up before the sun.

But your mama raised you to love thy neighbor and keep patience and grace close to your heart, so you bit your tongue for five long months and occasionally showered the construction workers in warm breakfast sandwiches and croissants. You hoped that their awareness to the neighbors occupation would keep them from working late into the night, but nope. You just continued biting your tongue a little harder.

Even worse than you was Andy and Phoebe that lived two doors down, the construction happened sandwiched between you two, and they had their new born baby girl at home through all of that banging and drilling. Apparently little Willow could now sleep through anything. Their dog barking at the sound of a door bell wasn't even an equal contender against the baby who had been subconsciously trained to stay calm in the midst of chaos.

You were in bed by 7 pm, up at 3am, back at work by 4am with $20 in your back pocket. A little part of you felt stupid while slipping the green bill into your denim jeans, it was quite delusional to assume the man would be back so soon, let alone at all, but a bigger part of you couldn't stand that his free cookies were not free.

The empty bake case was filled to the brim by 6:30am, all custom orders were done by 7. You barely even got a chance to wipe the sweat off your hairline from your face being in front of the oven before taking off your chefs coat and hair net and switching it to a front-of-house apron.

You had an excellent team of trained bakers, decorators, baristas, and a cashier, but that didn't stop you from getting your hands dirty by any means. Though your team was mighty, collectively you were tiny. Only 9 employees to hold the busiest bakery in the greater area down, you tended to step in wherever you were needed the most.

Today, you just happened to be taking orders and handing out latte's through morning rush before dedicating the rest of your day on getting a head start on custom orders for tomorrow.

Then tomorrow came around and all you did was start the dough for a few loaves of sourdough, your girls were going to take over after the first rise so you could focus on the payroll and product order placement that would be delivered on Friday. You got done all the boring stuff, responded to customer emails, printed out the invoices of all the orders through Friday, sorted through and organized the endless amounts of cookie cutters in the kitchen, then cleaned out the fridge to make sure all the ingredients were properly labeled and within date.

You worked one more day after that before having your first day off in 10 days. Yes, you made your own schedule. Yes, you worked far too much. No, that's not your fault.

You started by going on a short run, and taking a shower before going to the little diner 10 minutes down the road with Georgia for breakfast. The summer heat made your thighs stick to the leather booth beneath you, and the ceiling fans gently moved your hair around but you didn't seem to mind much. How could anything be a bother to your while you we're sneakily stealing a forkful of pancakes from your Neighbor's plate as her eyes were stuck on the news that was playing on an old TV in the upper corner of the diner.

You smiled as she peeled her eyes away just to glare at you while you stuck the syrupy goodness in your mouth. A bit of sticky maple caught on your lip, threatening to drip down your chin before you even got a chance to lick it off.

"Child, you are a mess." She shook her head at you and handed you a napkin. "How are they?"

"Heavenly." You giggled, wiping away the warm syrup on your face. "Hey, is it okay if I have a bite?" You questioned after stealing her food.

"You're like the child I never wanted." She insulted in good fun. Her being in her mid-fifties and you being late twenties- early thirty something, she loved to tease you because she knew you could take it in good fun. "See what you could've had if you didn't order... whatever that is?"

"An omelette?" You giggled. "I was in it for the side of hash-browns."

"Mmmm" Georgia tried to stay engaged, but her eyes kept wandering back to the news on the television.

You quickly looked up at the TV facing you in the opposite corner to the one she had her eyes on, but all you saw was pictures of Black Widow. She was beautiful, you always were jealous of her stunning fiery red hair and strength. You didn't pay much attention to why the bottom banner across the screen said 'Breaking News: Emergency Broadcast". Nothing Natasha Romanoff could've done was more important to the crispy shredded potatoes in front of you.

You didn't know much about the Civil War besides the basics. Most of what you knew came from Georgia and Michael. Politics was never your strong suit, you're pretty sure you almost failed government class back in high school. However, politics was something Michael was very... passionate about.

His political opinions were strong, and he wasn't shy to let you know about them. Whenever you were over at their house for dinner and the topic came up, you tended to just let him get it all out while you soaked it in and ate silently.

Though you didn't have an extensive knowledge on economics or how congressional issues worked, you did know how you felt about social issues. Most of the time; your opinions did not match up with Michael. And most of the time Georgia soaked in and inherited all of Michael's political stances.

Only a few times did you seek out information on the bombing of the United Nations meeting and the sokovia accords by your own means. Mostly because you felt like the information you were getting from Michael was probably influenced by his own stance on the matter. But from what you gathered, it was a complex issue you couldn't even begin to put your nose in. Especially since they were all superheroes arguing over what was the correct thing to do.

You grew up very much in the mindset of not judging people until you've walked a mile in their shoes, and walking in their shoes was impossible. Especially superhero shoes with jet blasters and and steel toes.

So as Georgia stated, "Miss Romanoff had so much potential, why she wasted it on protecting a brain washed assassin I will never understand." you stole another bite of her pancakes and shoved them into your mouth.

In turn, she stole some of your hash-browns and looked at you, waiting for feedback on her remark. "What did she do now?" You asked.

"She was found on American soil. The secretary tried detaining her considering she's a fugitive but she slipped passed his fingers." Georgia explained. "They're asking for tips trying to find her again."

You nodded your head in understanding of the urgency in the news broadcast, but you didn't exactly feel like having a passionate discussion about morals in the middle of a notoriously conservative small down.

"I guess I just don't understand why the government is treating Captain America's friends as criminals when they've all done so much to protect us... Aren't they just trying to do the right thing?" You questioned carefully as to not start an argument.

"Sweetheart it's not about what they used to do for us, it's about what they've done recently. They broke the law, destroyed public and private property, and broke out of the highest security prison in the world all because they didn't want to be controlled by the United Nations." Georgia explained.

"...but the issue was that they didn't want to be controlled, it was that they wanted to come up with a different solution because lives would be lost while waiting for the whole United Nations to decide what business they could stick their noses in, right?" You framed your opinion as a question once more as to appease any potential anger.

"Captain America and his whole team of friends became war criminals the moment they turned their backs on the government. It's really that simple." She insisted.

You looked back up to the TV to see the pictures of Captain America, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, the Falcon, the Winter Soldier, Ant-Man, and Hawkeye all looking back at you. The atmosphere between you and Georgia had gone quiet allowing you to hear the broadcasters voice.

'... if you see any of these individuals, do not approach. They are dangerous. Call 911. Remember, failure to report these individuals will be considered a misdemeanor punishable by jail time and a hefty fine. Do not approach.'

You observed the picture of the winter soldier in much more detail than the others, then your eyes grazed over Captain America.

One more big mouthful of your breakfast before an invasive thought overtook your brain and caused you to laugh out loud.

"What's got you laughing over there?" Georgia smiled at your antics.

"The winter soldier is so handsome, I think I'd become a war criminal trying to defend him too." You spat out between invasive laughter causing Georgia to laugh along with you no matter how hard she tried to contain it.

"I outta wash your mouth out with soap!" She laughed.

"Hey! No potty mouth here, just speaking the truth"

"This is why you need a boyfriend!" She smiled, pointing her pancake filled fork at you. "And a good one at that! I don't need to be seeing my baby girl all up in the news one day with the word 'wanted' written in bold red letters across her face."

"Hey, I've actually been meaning to ask you!" You started between bites. "A handsome fella came into the shop a few days ago. Said he was moving to greenwood in a few days, d'ya know anything about that?"

"What'd he look like, darlin'?" She questioned further. "I saw a stunner meet up with the owner of the house next door to yours while I was watering my peonies earlier this week. Watched him leave with a key in hand."

"He was tall, but I didn't get to see much to his face. It was blocked by a cap. I think his hair was dirty blonde from what I could see. He had really nice jeans on-"

"Full beard?" She asked.

"The most luscious and well groomed beard I've ever seen in this part of town." You confirmed with a giggle.

"I damn near blushed when I saw him from across the way! I bet he's moving in to that house then!" She enthused with a big smile. "Maybe this will be your escape from the Greenwood boys!"

"Are you kidding me? A man like that always comes a long with a wife and way too many children." You giggled.

"I bet that boy would make some beautiful babies" She kicked your leg underneath the table. "As would you."

"Not anytime soon" You shook your head with a blush in your cheeks.

"You know pregnancies over the age of 35 are considered geriatric?" She said backhandedly.

"Then consider me the oldest grandma in the nursing home." You denied once more

"I didn't see no ring on that man's finger, so he's single until proven married." Georgia smiled. "What did he get at the bakery?"

"One chocolate chip cookie" You hid your grin behind your hand holding your fork.

She raised her eyebrows mid pancake bite, chewing before speaking again as to not be impolite, but you already knew what she was thinking. "A married man would never get a cookie for just himself and not his wife. He's definitely single."

"Well he did say he drove into town for the key, so maybe he ate it before she even knew he had a cookie in the first place. Plus, I gave him two. You know how I feel about people who get one cookie..."

"So he's either single or the worst husband a girl could have. If Michael ever skipped out on getting me a cookie I'd divorce his ass on the spot." She shook her head.

"Why would you ever need Michael to bring you cookies when you have me, anyways?" You questioned, faking jealousy.

"Baby doll you're all I need" She smiled and reached over to squeeze your hand.

"That's more like it." You laughed.

Georgia smoothed over the pain of not being the only cookie provider in her life by paying the breakfast bill, even after you fought her over it for ten whole minutes because you invited her out to breakfast so you could treat her.

And when you two got home, you both immediately noticed all the construction on the house next to yours had been completely cleared out and it looked brand spankin' new.

What once was an older home with lots of rustic character looked more like all the surrounding houses with updated paint, new landscaping, fresh new features. It looked great without all of the dust and equipment blocking the view.

It was officially a home ready to be moved into, and any moment now you would have confirmation if your new neighbor was the same man you desperately owed $20.

Next Part: Inhale, Exhale

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean

If you’d like to be added to the tag list for this series, don’t be shy to ask 🤍🧁

[lovelyiida]

secret relationship with bakugo~

INCLUDES: KATSUKI BAKUGO

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, vulgar language, sexual themes

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 1.8K

Bakugo is known for his heartbreaking nature as a pro hero. Since he has been in many open relationships, each is heavily surveyed by the media at all times.

usually dating other pro-heroes or random A-list celebrities. He has broken, maybe even shattered, everyone's heart.

so when he wrote his number down on the bill you gave him and handed it back to you, you were shocked.

so…he’s into waitresses now?

You were working a long 9-hour shift at a local noodles restaurant located in the heart of the city. Back aching and eyes dry, you give your all as each customer you greet is shown a million-dollar smile.

When the time came 1 minute before closing, you began to untie your oily apron until a loud bell rang. Signaling that someone had just come through the door.

You almost collapse in agony at the sound. Collecting yourself you stomp out the back and head to the front.

“Excuse me! I'm sorry but we're--" As you saw the person standing patiently at the front, your words caught in your throat.

Pro-Hero Dynamight?

His red eyes pierced yours as he stared at you. Your eyes travel down his body, his hero suit still on, a little torn and muddy, must've had a little tussle.

the rumors are true, he's way more attractive in person. His toned muscles were drenched with sweat as you watched them glisten in the city lights.

you now understand why he gets into relationships so easily, even with such a hideous personality, he's drop-dead gorgeous.

as your eyes travel back up to his face, you notice he had a smug grin. Sighing, the pro-hero slowly folds his head back to brush through his hair. He walks towards your figure, as the only thing separating you two is the front desk.

"I know you're closed and all, but you don't mind staying open for a hard workin' hero like myself would ya?" voice deep and strong as it bounced off the walls of the empty restaurant.

Still stunned, you shakily nod. Swiftly returning to the kitchen with quick steps your body crashes into the dish sink, your hands gripping tight into the curved metal. Your body hangs almost limply above the dirty dishes you forgot to wash.

"pro-hero dynamight is in my resturant!" you squealed quietly. you were fangirling quite hard, as this interaction was almost comparable to meeting royalty.

"hello? any fucking day!" the pro-hero yells, snapping you from your daze. you jumped, hurrily grabbing a paper and pen and dash out to the dining floor.

In the back of the room, you can see the pro-hero seated in a corner booth, away from windows.

walking over you look down at him, a pen and paper in hand ready to take his order. "Are you ready?" you politely asked.

"does it look like i'm fuckin' ready? gimmie a sec" he grumbled. It's possible that he would have caught you completely gawking at him if he hadn't been eyeing the menu.

the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling shines on his sharp facial features. Vermillion eyes glowing, his lips pursed as he's in deep thought trying to choose his next meal.

his lips were so pink and looked so soft, you bet he was a fantastic kisser, there's no doubt about that. you imagined his lips on yours, you imagined how he'd grab your waist and pull you in deeper and deeper until you were gasping for another breath.

god, you wish he could just take you to this dining table right now–

"I'll take this," the pro-hero says, pointing at the spicy noodles.

you snap out of your daze once more, and let out a shy smile.

"coming right up sir!" you take a sharp bow (which makes him roll his eyes) and head into the kitchen to make his meal. after nearly 20 minutes, you serve him a hefty bowl of spicy ramen noodles. "It's on the house" you said with a tired smile.

the hero nods in gratitude and goes to town on his noodles. walking away to stand behind the front desk, still taking your chances for a quick glance at the oh-so-handsome hero.

In another 20 minutes, you were wiping imaginary stains on your counter until the clank of a bowl was heard.

You jump, snapping your neck towards the sound, looking up to see the pro-hero smirking at you.

“Finished. How much?” He says. You tilt your head at the question. “For the food, princess.”

The pet-name sent you into a flustered frenzy. “Oh! Um, like I said it’s on the house…to thank you for your service” you mumbled. This earned a genuine smile from the hero.

Chuckling, he leans in close to you. His arms rest on the counter, toned biceps flexed with ease and his chest tall and forward exuding confidence.

“Y’know I’ve been going here since high school…and I’ve never seen you here before. And I come here often.”

His voice was smug, the tone of his voice smooth like honey as the words from his lips drip-dropped off his tongue with ease.

“Well…I’ve been working here for about a month so–“

“That’s why my noodles weren’t as spicy as they usually are,” He says. This makes your eyes widen "Oh! I’m so sorry! The next one is on the house again-“

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, it was still tasty " he spits. The next time, don’t stare at your customers so hard. Usually not one for stares but…your cuteness makes up for it.”

Before you could react, the hero reaches into his pocket and slams down the exact amount for the food.

“It’s late, get home soon cutie” he says, a small smile on his lips as he flashes a quick wink your way.

Putting his mask on in a hurry, he walks into the darkness of the night.

You stood in shock, gazing at the pro-hero in awe. Did he just call you cute?

Letting out a sigh, you look down to take the cash. Only to realize a pink piece a paper was on top of the cash.

‘XXX-XXX-XXXX consider this as a tip.’

You couldn't even think, he just gave you his fucking number.

After several booty calls and three more “let’s see each other again”, you find yourself laying down in the pro-hero Dynamights' bedroom. Flicking through TV channels, wearing nothing but an oversized Dynamight shirt and a pair of panties.

Pro-hero? Sorry, you meant Bakugo now.

Pressing the remote over and over, the screen flashes quickly. The RGB lights flicker from the screen and into your eyes, you let out a bored sigh.

News? Boring.

Home channel? Not in a interior design mood.

Cooking shows? No point, you can’t get any hungrier.

What’s this? The gossip channel?

Legs swinging off the bed suddenly come to a halt, you noticed it was currently on a hero segment. Talking about some pro-hero Chargebolt? You didn’t know him personally, all you knew was that he bought another damn car.

“Y’know what’s shocking me? It’s been 6 months since we’ve heard any buzz in the dating scene about pro-hero dynamight!” The female reporter gushed.

Rolling your eyes, you stayed glued to the action. Anticipating hearing their opinions.

“I agree! I mean– I’m truly surprised he’s not in a relationship. Maybe he’s finally decided to focus on building himself up in the ranks. Being the #4 hero is good…but compared to last year being in the #2 spot–“

“I’m turning this shit off” you hear your boyfriend grunt. Hair wet and most of his body still wet from the shower, a towel loosely hanging from his waist.

Stomping towards you, he snatches the remote and quickly turns it off. Which earns an exasperated whine out of you.

“I was watching that!” You protested. Bakugo rolls his eyes, “so you were entertained watching random ass people talk shit about me?” He spits.

Lifting yourself off your stomach, you crawl towards the edge of the bed with a giggle. Taking a deep breath, walking on your knees, you reach out to your boyfriend and wrap your arms around him.

“not exactly”

Leaning in to kiss him, he quickly grabs your waist and pushes you into the bed. You laugh at the sudden force, the bakugo crawls on top of you. Tiny water droplets hit your face.

“So is it true?” You asked, your voice softer than it was a mere moment ago. Bakugo mumbles, too busy kissing your neck.

Sighing, you push yourself away, earning an irritant groan. “Is what true, beautiful?” He finally answers.

“You haven’t been dating anyone for more than 6 months, which means we’ve been together for that same amount of time” you say.

“All signs point to yes, why’ya ask?” He says, his body collapsing on the side of you. His muscular arm snakes around your waist and pulls you close to him.

“I don’t know, I’m just shocked…I didn’t know you’d be the waitress type” you say, which makes Bakugo chuckle.

“I know, everyone is so used to me dating the hottest of the hottest I guess, but they’re not as hot as you baby” Leaning in, he plants a quick peck on your lips.

Grabbing his face you go in for another, more intimate kiss. Hiking your leg up against his torso as his hands reach for your bottom, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Pulling away from the kiss on your forehead, looking deeply into his eyes, you laughed. “What?” Bakugo smiled.

“I don’t know…I’m just surprised you chose me out of all those other guys and girls. I like you a lot Bakugo, you know that right?” Your voice soft and attentive rang through your boyfriend's ear like a beautiful symphony.

“I needed change in my life. I wanted to slow down. I was tired of living the fast life, and I wanted to fuckin’ settle” he says.

“I knew walkin’ into that restaurant you were gonna be the one, you were too cute to pass up” he mumbles sweetly, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“So you walked in on purpose?” You chuckled.

“I may have seen you working earlier that day and found you hot. I was praying to any and every god that you would still be there after patrol. And God gave me their blessing” he says.

Sighing, you drop your head into his chest.

The shared bedroom is subdued by a long, comfortable pause.

You never knew Bakugo felt that way towards you. At first you felt like you were just a booty call. After that, you noticed how much you clicked with each other.

From general conversation to sexual attraction, the relationship was solid.

You didn’t know if it was going to last. But now, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world knowing Bakugo planned you for the long-haul.

“Let’s make it official”

Bakugo breaks the silence. Turning your head to him you let out a last gasp. “A-are you sure?” You stuttered.

“Hell yeah, I need to let these fuckers know you’re mine and that I dare anyone to lay a mere pinky toe on you.”

You laugh at Bakugo’s broad statement, cuddling at him you nod.

“Okay, let’s make it official.”

hello everyone!! This was supposed to be headcanons but school is so tiring, currently writing this at 2 AM. You guys are so amazing, walking up to so much support makes me smile everyday. Thank you!!

— lovelyiida<3

[ravixen]

Hey!! You wrote a seventeen with meeting your friends could you do a performance team ver of it? 👉🏼👈🏼

svt + meeting your friends (pt 2)

➔ reaction || requested || performance unit

➔ warnings: none || 0.6k words ➔ notes: fluff ; hiya, happy monday! I did indeed write a post about seventeen meeting your friends, and I'd be happy to write a part two of it. if you liked this, please reblog!

JUNHUI: oh, he's so nervous leading up to it. you keep trying to reassure him that he's fine, that he will be fine; he's literally so funny and personable, and your friends are going to love him. "but what if they don't?" is his immediate counter, and you try not to roll your eyes. "then they don't, and it's not important because I'm the one dating you, not them. but again, it's impossible for people not to like you." somewhere between that statement and the kisses that you pepper across his face, he does feel calmer...only for the fear to return as soon as he steps on your friend's welcome mat. before he can gather his nerves, the door opens, and your friend ushers the two of you in with a grin. "hey! sorry for the rush, but my cat decided to be an escape artist this week. successfully foiled her plans twice, but who knows when she'll—" right on cue, a furry blur tries to dash past your legs, but jun's faster; he snatches the cat up into his arms, placating her yowling with head scratches that quiet her instantly. your friend whistles lowly. "you just became my new favorite person." see? you were right—instant charm.

SOONYOUNG: it comes as a surprise to some people that he's actually on the shy side, especially when it comes to meeting new people, but you know this about him. that's why you propose that he joins your friends for game night; it'll be a big enough group that he won't feel pressured to chat, but still small enough to get a taste of your social circle. and you're right. when he sees the amount of people, the tension in his shoulders ease, melting away completely when you give his hand a squeeze. you slot yourself right between your closest friends, who scoot over to make room for your boyfriend and greet him with a wave. another strategic choice because these two are witty and funny and tasked with making sure that soonyoung feels comfortable, which shouldn't be too hard because he smiles and that's a good sign. of course, the one single thing you didn't take into account...how competitive soonyoung can be with games. he's not an asshole about it at all—he's just loud, and you're pretty sure that he turns into a different person as soon as mafia is mentioned. your friends think he's hilarious, though, clutching their sides as soon as he accuses you again of being a traitor.

MINGHAO: you were worried about his reaction for some reason, but you don't know why because his eyes brighten immediately. "I'd love to be your plus one," he says, already getting up to search his closet for the perfect thing to wear to your friend's western-style tea party. never mind that the event isn't for a month; he's ready to show up and show off for you. literally so extra and insists on matching your outfits in subtle ways and preparing in advance. when he shows up on the day of, your friends have to pause because who invited an actual prince to their pretend party? he is an absolute gentleman through and through, and it's evident in how he carefully helps serve the tea and refreshments. his calming voice and soft chuckles punctuate conversations, and you don't know how he manages to be even dreamier than he already was. before the end of the event, your friends are leaning over the table and inviting him to the after party, which you hadn't heard about—because apparently they just thought of it in that moment. it'll be a private karaoke room and bar with flashing lights and blasting speakers because there's no way that he could be perfect there, too. naturally, he proves them wrong.

CHAN: posted in part 1!

[soapssuds]

Just a Little Crush

Gepard x Female ! Reader

Warnings | one fight scene, cussing, fools in love, fluff, etc.

Note | y/n will be referred to with she/her pronouns btw !!

"Daydreaming about Y/n again, huh?"

He was broken out of his thoughts when he quickly glanced over at his sister while a small, red blush lightly dusting over his cheeks, nose and at the tips of his ears, "w- what?!"

Gepard was many things. Strong, confident, reliable, highly respected.

He didn't blush like a fool. He didn't stutter like a shy schoolgirl. And he most definitely didn't let his lips quiver when caught in thinking about someone.

Well, unless it was y/n. Then he was all those things. A helpless man with a love he was sure was unrequited.

Serval, smirking at the priceless scene, could only rest her cheek in the palm of her hand, "oh come on, its obvious. I've been talking about dandruff hair and how it grows on trees for the past ten minutes and all you've been saying is 'that's cool' and 'will that be apart of your new song.' Honestly, it was cute ar first, but now I'm just curious. What on earth are you thinking so intently over that it has to do with y/n? Hopefully nothing too .. risqué."

His blush worsened as he slammed his hands on the table, "Serval! I- I would never ever think of y/n in such a way!"

His sister laughed and gave him one of her charming smiles, "well, whatever you were thinking about .. don't you think its time to confess? She's a young maiden after all. It won't be too long before someone more dashing than you comes and sweeps her off of her feet."

He pressed his lips together and stood up from his spot at the table, "it's just a little crush Serval, besides - i highly doubt she feels the same way. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said while looking towards the nearest clock, "I have to be going."

"Sure, sure," she said with a wave as he started walking towards the door, "and be sure to say hi to Bronya for me, won't you?"

"I will," he called after, and the moment he stepped out of the shop, a cold wind was quick to hit him the face. He was thankful for it though as he felt his once hot face began to cool down dramatically. He was sure it wasn't red anymore as he began walking to his next destination.

"Gepard."

At the sound of his name, he turned to look and saw Bronya walking up to him. He gave her a stiff now as they walked off together.

"Did you just finish up talking with your sister," she questioned.

"Yes, I did. She says hello by the way."

Bronya smiled knowingly, "was that all she said?"

Her words made him think of Serval's suggestion of confessing to y/n, but he shook the thought away.

"No, nothing else."

"Hmm, I see. So, she didn't mention how you should confess to y/n then?"

He tensed up which didn't go unnoticed by Bronya which, of course, caused her to continue her verbal attack.

"Judging by your reaction, I guess she did mention it. And seeing how you're also being dismissive of the matter, I guess you aren't going to go through with it."

"Of course not. It's just a silly crush, and I'm sure y/n doesn't feel the same."

"You'll never know unless you say something."

Gepard looked away, "can we just, stop talking about it?"

Bronya shrugged as she stopped walking and so did Gepard.

"Have it your way then, but if you don't go for her, then someone else will. Now, if you excuse me, I have business elsewhere. Will you be going on patrol?"

"Yes."

Bronya smirked, "I heard y/n will be joining you. You should take the opportunity when you find yourself alone with her."

He didn't get to retort or say anything for that matter as Bronya was already leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"Damn it..."

Shaking his head, he spared a glance at the time and decided to run there. He didn't want to be late (especially after hearing that y/n will be joining him).

☆☆ ☆ ☆☆

"There you are!"

He felt his breath seize up and his heart skip a beat. His eyes seeming to dilate as he was greeted by y/n. A strong, highly capable Silvermane. She was top notch and considered to be one of the strongest. But truthfully, it wasn't her rank that made him fall for her. In all honesty, she could be the poorest and weakest civilian here and he would still fall for her.

"Sorry, y/n. Am I late?"

"Not at all. But knowing you, I was sure you would beat me here."

Her smile was easy going and kind. She was the type who always had something nice to say even when she was pissed off.

"Anyway, shall we be going?"

It was a simple patrol. One that required only two people due to the short windy path. Having too many Silvermane walking it, would surely cause some trouble and probably make the road down the mountain crumble.

"Of course."

The walk for Gepard was unbearable. He found himself shifting the collar of his shirt and suddenly feeling claustrophobic in his own uniform. Everything felt hot despite the winter chill and the snow falling around them.

Not to mention that he was sure that the blush on his cheeks from before had returned with a vengeance.

"You good back there, Gepard?"

She was walking ahead of him and he took the rear. Their weapons unshesthed in case of an attack as they were both on high alert.

"Y- yeah," he cursed his stutter.

She stopped and turned to look back at him which cause him to stop abruptly too so he wouldn't accidentally run into her.

"You sure? You don't seem like yourself..."

"It's- it's nothing. My sister and Bronya were just giving me a hard time."

Y/n gave a polite smile as she reached to him to give him a pat on the shoulder, "those two really know how to stick it to someone. Whatever they said, I would worry about it later, alright? I need you focused right now."

"Of course, sorry."

"Don't apologize, Gepard."

He nodded whilst biting his tongue. The words im sorry getting stuck in his throat in the process.

"Damn Silvermane!"

The sudden disgruntled voice caused the two to luck up at where the sound had come from. Y/n's eyes widening as two criminals up top had their weapons pointed at them.

"You damned assholes should have brought more two guards!"

"Shit, move Gepard!"

Arrows were knocked and fired down at them, but y/n was faster as she had grabbed Gepard and moved him close to the rocky wall. The small thin path beneath them crumbled a little when the wind arrows hit the ground around their feet. Y/n clenched her teeth.

We can't stay on this path. If we do, then we'll be falling off the cliff side!

More arrows were shot down at them, but y/n kept pushing their bodies close together in order to hug the wall so their aim would miss them by mere inches.

"Damn it."

She started to panic a little as she tried to think up of something and when she finally looked at Gepard, their eyes clashing together, she snapped.

She didn't want him to die. Not now. Not ever.

"We're going to get out of this," she said to him, "just like always."

She hesitated for a moment when she glanced at his lips, but decided against kissing him and instead let go.

"Y/n-"

"Stay there. Your attacks won't help."

He pressed his lips together and stayed glued to the wall as she had ordered.

"Finally come out to play," one of the criminals yelled out whilst sneering down at her. An arrow being knocked into place as he took aim at her.

She merely smiled at him and at his friend.

"Of course, and just to let you know...I did bring more with me."

"W- what?!"

She raised her hand revealing a signal flare, and the moment she pulled the trigger and a red light shot up into the sky a scoff had sounded from behind the two criminals.

"I wondered how long it was going to take you to use the flare, y/n."

Gepard frowned, recognizing the voice as Bronya's. She's here too? But I thought she was somewhere else.

"Sorry about that, Bronya! I kinda just panicked a little and forgot about you."

Bronya scoffed again, "don't tell me you got distracted by the pretty boy down there."

Y/n glanced at Gepard who was looking at her and she gave him a wink before answering her, "you know me too well! I mean, who wouldn't get distracted when Gepard is around?"

"Only you would!"

Laughing Bronya off, she turned to look at Gepard again when the fight with the criminals finally ensued up top.

"Something wrong?"

"I- I'm ..a bit confused."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I knew we were going to get ambushed here, so I kind of called in a favor from Bronya. Granted, I forgot about the flare because, well," she paused as she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, "you really are a distraction for me. Every time you're around, I just can't focus at all. You're so- so beautiful and breathtaking, and I like you so much. I just get caught up in thinking about you, and worrying about you. It wasn't until I felt the flare gun on my side pouch that I remembered my backup plan."

"You like me?"

She froze on the spot when she replayed her own words and realized everything she just said. Her mouth opening and closing as an explosion up top sounded throughout their eardrums.

"I- you- I wasn't supposed to say that and you aren't supposed to know!"

She said those words in a rush as she panicked again. Her eyes looking everywhere but at him. And when she took a step back, she found herself falling, but he was quick enough to grab her hand and pull close..

"I'm glad you told me, y/n. Because I feel the same way."

It may have been a little crush at the beginning, but along the way - it turned into something more for the both of them.

[kickthecan-revolution]

So there's going to be a lot of rambly posts from me. Feel free to skip.

One other insight I have today is how big of a difference between self-flagellation and humility. A massive Grand Canyon of difference. Humility makes it easier to read and listen to hard truths and there's a kind of liberation within it that isn't about the sender of the message, but the message itself and how it resonates. I've always treated Tumblr like a journal, people reading it isn't something I initially think about, though I like validation just like anyone else. I guess that's why there's always so many typos in what I write, I do it quickly, spilling whatever I am thinking or feeling into the entry, rarely even going back and reading it again. But the people do matter, you all are a big part of my offline thought and I take what you say seriously.

One thing I'm reading on repeat today is the danger of separation. I see the "if you voted for Trump, remove yourself from my life". The 4B movement. To me, these are both symptoms of panic where the easiest and safest thing to do is make the world smaller and more secure. I had a moment like that yesterday, the contractor who is helping me with Alki told my sister what an impassioned Trump supporter he is and how thankful he is that he won. I instantly wanted to fire him, I didn't want him anywhere near my house. And then quickly after that, I thought about how kind he is in so many ways, how much he loves my sister and how complicated his life is - he's shy, not confident with others and would likely not rate super high on the IQ scale. He's a lot of things but I felt repulsed to let him into my house, and then I was grossed out by my reaction.

So really, how much of my rage is grounded in empathy and what parts aren't. What am I really afraid of? Yes, I'm afraid of a cancer reoccurrence and not being able to get health care and there's no way I will never not be able to afford insurance. I own two homes - my fear isn't grounded in reality. I'm not as vulnerable. I'm scared of evil and a lot of the evil in Conservative Christianity, in white men and women freaks me out, so I know I am reacting to that being in control of a lot. Trying to be honest about all of this is the only path out of it.

I also live in a State where gay marriage was just embedded into our State constitution and we voted for Harris but we're just fine with imprisoned people working for nothing and we didn't pass minimum wage. And now Gavin Newsom is picking a fight with Trump when our state wants to penalize shoplifters more who are literally stealing to survive from companies that primarily care about shareholder value, mine included. So what is liberalism anyway? What is a "Blue" state? If you really read, a lot of Trump supporters voted because they can't afford groceries. And why wouldn't you blame people in charge for that. I door dash a lot of food and eat it over a couple of days, I waste less that way but I'm cooking more and bought some stuff to make a bolognese sauce. The ground beef was THIRTY DOLLARS for 1.5lbs. I can afford it - what about people who can't? Does anyone understand a tariff? I'd venture a guess that just as many Harris supporters don't understand how it works and how we'll pay for it as Trump supporters.

I feel pretty powerful in my hatred. It keeps me safe. It also keeps me pretty deluded. This is a lot to unpack and the loss is big enough where these insights won't be fleeting.