#My inner monologue sound like how I want my voice to sound

[zepskies]

Ooooh I LOVE the movie RED!!! ❤️ Karl Urban's fight with Bruce Willis is so freakin' iconic. 🤩 I'm already in, babes. Let's dive in.~

Ahh the "hear me out" thing is so relatable lmao. But Marlin?! Really?! 🤣🤣

Four times you’d fallen asleep on your computer and had the imprint of the keyboard on your cheek, three times you’d had a mental breakdown and decided to change your major promising yourself that you were sure you could make it doing freelance whatever the fuck sounded good at that moment, and you couldn’t count the number of times that you’d gone to the library to study only to get distracted by whatever else was better than studying for a physics test.

Oh God, you're giving me Vietnam War-level flashbacks to undergrad when I was stuck until 12 am at the library working on essays and shiz. 🫠

“And I raise you Kerchak from Tarzan!” “The daddy gorilla?” Liza asks, leaning into her fiance, Matt, where he lounges back against the faded maroon leather beside her. 

GIRL PLSSS. 💀💀💀 Not "daddy gorilla." 🤣

The stranger sitting at the bar is everything she suggested and more. He’s the kind of handsome that didn’t exist outside of the stack of communal romance novels that sat on the bookshelf in your living room and served as the perfect reminder of how single you were. 

Okay, lmfao. I'ma need you to stop calling me out like this. 😂😂

But I so love the description of Russell -- he's a man in a sea of man-boys our age, and there's a distinct difference. 😏

“Hi.” You smile shyly at the man when you meet his gaze. “Hi.” He rumbles with an easy smile while the green of his eyes flashes in the neon sign hanging behind the bar. His voice catches you off guard. You weren't expecting it to be so smooth, silk over your skin, but also like the rough drag of the ocean against sand as it pulls it out to sea. “Hi.” You say again as all other thoughts evaporate from you mind and you fight the urge to facepalm. 

LMFAO. Reading this snippet in context is of course even better. I'm dying but also she would so be me in this situation. 😝

“Rain.” Despite the last few seconds of you feeling so awkward it made you want to sink into the floor like quicksand and the fact that your throat is still burning from when the beer went down the wrong pipe, your mouth quirks up in a smile. “The horse from Spirit?”

OMG YESSSSS. Lmfao Rain was beautiful! And I love that you referenced one of my favorite movies. 😆😆 Totally agree that Nala had bedroom eyes. And I raise you Robin Hood from the Disney movie! They did NOT have to draw him that sexy.

“Shut up.” You laugh and raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but he catches it with his. The contact of the rough palm of his hand in yours makes electricity zing through your body, bringing a wave of heat coursing behind it.  “That’s not very nice. Keep trying to hit me like that and I might have to take you to court, Sweetheart.” He winks.

😐😧🤭

Miss ma'am!! Don't make me bring out the Out of Order gif again! I had to fan myself when he literally caught her hand. Dear Lord. 🫠

Also, the way I was so shocked and literally laughed out loud at the way she headbutted him. 🤣 Honestly that would probably be me trying to flirt. A+ casting 😂👌��

But again, that spice and the way he kissed her melted me like the Wicked Witch of the West. ❤️‍🔥

“Seriously babe.” Kay begins to back away. “Be safe. Because the last thing you want to pass right now is a pregnancy test.” 

lmaooo sage advice! 😂

How could I have been so stupid? He’s going to kill me here and I’ll never know what that physics test did to my GPA.  You frown slightly at that thought. It really is weird what goes through your head when you think you’re going to die.  “Please, let me explain.” He says again, eyes wide and filled with an emotion that looks surprisingly like regret.

LOL I love her inner monologue. She's so adorkable, but I'm already getting the RED vibes omggg. 🙏🏽

His body lays over yours, curving protectively around you, and his arm is behind you head so when you hit the ground, your head doesn’t.

It's the little things I love loll. 🤌🏽

“Calm down Derek Jeter! I’m not going to murder you, please stop saying that.” “Why?” He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Because it’s hurting my feelings a little bit.” 

Not me feeling sorry for him right now when she's well within her right to try and beat him with a pink baseball bat. 🤣🤣🤣

I was smiling so hard while reading the rest of this. I was actually so disappointed to get to the end! This was one helluva meet cute, hun. 💜

The thing about your one-shots is that they feel like the start of a series--of an amazing adventure that's about to start. I know you have probably a million WIPs at this point lol, but this does feel like a RED kind of movie and I would love to see more of these two if you ever feel so inspired. ✨

I Can Explain!

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: "How Do You Know Where I Live?"

Requested by: @vixaaa

Summary:  When you meet a gorgeous green-eyed stranger at a bar and agree to go home with him, everything goes off the rails and you're strapped in for the ride.

Tropes: Awkward Rom-Com? Forced Proximity? Protective Russell.

Word Count: 10.6 K (But You'll Laugh The Whole Time)

Warnings: An Unhinged Game of "Hear Me Out," References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Reader is kinda awkward and clumsy, Gunfire, Weapons, Talk of Murder, Shooting?, Brief Description of Torture, Brief Description of Murder, Terror, Fear, Cursing, Kissing, I think that's everything? I promise this one is a rom-com despite all the warnings. 😅

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys! This is another wonderful prompt request that I got for my prompt celebration from the enchanting @vixaaa! This one is based a little bit on the movies "Knight and Day" and "RED." If you've never seen either of those, go and watch them right now. They are some of my favorites!

P.S: Yes, this is the one I've been writing that has just been making me wheeze/cackle laugh the whole time I wrote it...

“Alright, hear me out… Gil, the angelfish from Finding Nemo. There is no way in hell he was made for kids.” Your friend Liza says wobbling slightly on the plush leather bench seat of the booth before taking a shot of vodka. Her peacock blue No. 2 hair shimmers like a beacon in the dimly lit bar. 

“That’s low hanging fruit.” Kay snorts from your left while leaning heavily into your shoulder, the smell of her vanilla perfume wafting up with the movement. “That scar? The tragic backstory? And voiced by Wilem Defoe? Sign me up.”

You giggle into the shot glass clasped in your hand before you knock it back, face scrunching at the taste and pleasant burn.

The “Hear Me Out” drinking game your two best friends proposed to clear your head from the nuclear level bombing of an exam you just took in your Physics One class, had been successful so far. You couldn’t remember any of the questions from the test that made you scream obscenities into the strawberry shaped pillows on the couch in your living room earlier. Exactly where the two of them had found you when they got back to your shared apartment at the end of the day.

The live music in the crowded bar thrummed through your veins and the shots were giving you just the right amount of buzz to feel more carefree than you had in the past week. The week that you’d spent approximately one million hours studying for the test and trying to memorize all the formulas that looked exactly the same. 

Four times you’d fallen asleep on your computer and had the imprint of the keyboard on your cheek, three times you’d had a mental breakdown and decided to change your major promising yourself that you were sure you could make it doing freelance whatever the fuck sounded good at that moment, and you couldn’t count the number of times that you’d gone to the library to study only to get distracted by whatever else was better than studying for a physics test.

Spoiler alert, there are a lot of things that are.

But you knew you were screwed the second you saw the first question and the rest of them had only been the final nails in the coffin that was the dream of getting an “A” in the class before the semester was over. 

The glimmering sheen of hope at the end of the semester you once had, was ebbing to a dim lantern being swung by a lighthouse keeper in a hurricane, hence the large tray of vodka sitting prettily on the water ringed table in front of you.

You were sure to regret every single shot, but your next exam was two days away and you didn’t want to think about it yet, not when the shadow of the last was poking you in the back with a pencil like someone looking for your final piece of gum.

For a Tuesday night, Duke’s, the bar the three of you frequented so often that the rotating circle of bartenders knew you all by name, was crowded.

There was the familiar glow of the neon signs posted on every wall, a new band performing a set on the small stage in the corner, a collection of screaming girls in the front row of the crowd snapping photos and drooling over the base player, a group of frat guys shouting obscenities at a tv blasting a football game, and a few patrons trying to unwind from a long day while nursing multi colored drinks and sitting sporadically around the crowded bar while the bartender of the hour leaned against the counter and tried to hear orders people shouted over the din. 

You would have been more than happy to spend the evening on the couch eating a greasy pizza and drinking margaritas back at the apartment, but Kay and Liza refused to let you rot on the couch. 

The three of you had been inseparable since freshman year when you’d been assigned as roommates together. Liza was an art major hoping to illustrate book covers one day, Kay was a hardworking pre-med student, and you were… undecided. Physics 1 had been the idea of your advisor, who after a year of trying to get you to declare a major was close to throwing in the towel, you believed that he was using Physics 1 as a form of payback for driving him almost to the point of early retirement. 

“Okay, okay I see you.” Kay giggles, before grabbing a fresh shot. Her long black hair is pulled back from her face with a claw clip, but a few pieces bob around her head with the movement of her head to the music. “And I raise you Kerchak from Tarzan!”

“The daddy gorilla?” Liza asks, leaning into her fiance, Matt, where he lounges back against the faded maroon leather beside her. 

There was a half full glass of beer sitting in front of him, one he’d ordered when he found out what everyone else at your table was drinking. But he’d been a good sport so far despite all of his suggestions to the game being so obvious there was no reason for him to defend his choice and the rest of you mocking him endlessly for it. 

“Sweetie, he could be my daddy any day of the week.” Kay winks and throws back her shot. 

“You’re disgusting.” Liza rolls her eyes, refusing to take a shot to agree with Kay. 

“Hey! What happened to ‘we listen and we don’t judge?’” You interrupt, putting your arm around Kay who holds up a middle finger in answer to Liza’s taunt.

“Where was that when I said Jessica Rabbit two turns ago?” Matt grouses from his side of the table, crossing his large arms over his chest. His blond hair had tumbled out of the bun at the back of his neck to cover the grass stain on the collar of his jersey. He’d come straight from practice when Liza called. 

And then Kay and you had to suffer through the long make out session the two of them had when they reunited as if they’d been separated by war for fifty years and not two hours. They were recently engaged and you loved Matt, which is why you’d let them make out for exactly thirty seconds before Kay and you started making exaggerated gagging noises while they kissed. 

Kay’s boyfriend hadn’t been able to get out of work, but Kay was going to walk to the coffee shop inside the library to pick him up when the tray of shots in the center of the table sat empty. Usually you’d worry about that sort of thing, your friend walking alone on campus at night, but because Kay had the highest tolerance out of all of you, Matt included, and a total badass who welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to test her, you were willing to let it slide. 

That and the three of you tracked each other’s location with your phones.

“Because Jessica Rabbit isn’t a hear me out! Everyone knows that she’s super sexy!” You argue. “She doesn’t fit the criteria of this game!”

“She’s right babe.” Liza says, squeezing his arm with a sympathetic smile. “But it’s okay. I love that you’re a basic bitch.”

“But she’s animated!” Matt exclaims, obviously confused.

“So? Flynn Ryder is animated and he’s every woman’s dream.” You shrug, picking up a glass to take your turn.

You begin to shuffle through the mental file folder you have on characters who possessed “the energy” that made them so attractive. Truthfully, Kay and Liza had already said most of the ones you were thinking.

“You want to talk about every woman’s dream?” Kay smirks, her eyes flick over to the bar. “Check out green eyes over there. Holy shit, I’d let him rock me like a hurricane all day and all night!” 

“I’ll be sure to tell Sean, your boyfriend of three years-” You begin to say, but Kay pinches your cheeks between her fingers and turns your head so you can see who she’s talking about. 

Oh.

The stranger sitting at the bar is everything she suggested and more. He’s the kind of handsome that didn’t exist outside of the stack of communal romance novels that sat on the bookshelf in your living room and served as the perfect reminder of how single you were. 

The man is taller and broader than any of the so-called boys you went to class with each day, his tight fitting dark t-shirt pulling up over muscular arms that rippled with taunt muscles and were decorated with smoky tattoos curling beneath the ink colored sleeves. His chocolate colored hair is long and pushed back over his head, but a few strands hang forward to frame a well defined jaw covered in a thick dusting of facial hair.

Your throat suddenly gets very tight. 

The man’s gaze is focused on you, the green of his eyes brilliant, crinkled just around the edges with his smile. He winks and your entire face takes on the identity of a strawberry with your flush.

“Holy shit!” Kay nudges you. “You have to go over there.”

“What?” You squeak. “Are you insane? That guy is-”

“The kind of man who would make you forget all about that physics test?” Liza raises an eyebrow.

“The kind of man who would break the laws of physics with you all night long?” Kay adds. “Babe, come on, it's been months for you. Why don’t you go over there and say hi?”

“No way.” You shake your head vehemently, hyperventilating a little bit at the thought of going up to a complete stranger. 

You were not the confident girl in the group that did that. Kay was. It was exactly how she had met her boyfriend Sean three years ago, by using a cheesy pick up line that made him snort so hard he had beer coming out of his nose. Liza wasn’t much better. She’d met Matt in this very bar when her heel broke and she stumbled into where he was sitting with his friends at the bar. 

And the truth was it had been a few months since the last relationship (if you could call it that) fizzled out… and with both of your friends in relationships you often were the awkward fifth wheel. It wasn’t that you didn’t like your friends' boyfriends, Matt and Sean were great and they always did their best to make you feel comfortable whenever you were out with everyone, but you were kinda tired of being the spare tire.

“I don’t think we should be encouraging her to go off somewhere with a random man from a bar that she just met.” Matt says with a frown. 

Matt often held the braincell in your friend group and was the one who was more focused on making sure that everyone was safe. He was the one who followed up with a text whenever someone left to go home, the one who made sure that everyone stayed together when you were out late, and was usually the designated driver. 

“You’re such a hypocrite.” Liza boops Matt on the nose. “You were a random man that I’d never met before. And if I’m not mistaken we met in this very bar.”

“That’s different.” Matt sighs, but he leans towards Liza, the tension dissipating from his shoulders as he looks at her and his frown slips into a smile. 

They were one of those couples that no one ever thought would work. Liza was the carefree art major with no plan in the world and Matt was the All American, blue-eyed, blond haired football player that everyone said was “going to do great things” when in reality all Matt wanted to be was Liza’s husband. He didn’t care about anything else, but making her happy. Hence the giant engagement ring on her finger, the same one that he’d let her design because he knew that was important to her. 

They were everything you wanted in your own relationship. A beautiful merging of crazy (from you) with someone stable and structured, preferably someone with a strong jaw, brilliant green eyes and-

Great, he’s already invaded my subconscious. 

You glance up again to see if the stranger is still looking. He is, but this time his smile is just a little wider, and you watch his eyes drag down the length of your body for a moment appreciatively before flicking back up to yours and catches you doing the same thing. 

You weren’t wearing anything revealing, in fact, you hadn’t bothered dressing up to go out because you didn’t feel like it. You were still wearing the blank sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt combo that you’d worn to your exam. 

When you caught him looking at you, it made you regret you hadn’t worn something more eye-catching.

“Come on, that guy is checking you out! Go over there.” Kay nudges you, jostling the forgotten tequila shot in your hand. 

“He looks like trouble.” Matt says half-heartedly, but he’s too busy staring into Liza’s eyes to really care. Her hands are entwined at the back of his head pulling his forehead down to hers.

When it got to that point of the night, it usually meant that the two of them were about fifteen seconds from calling it an early night and going back to Matt’s apartment. Technically Kay would probably end up there as well because Sean was now Matt’s roommate and that meant you’d have the apartment to yourself…

“How can you tell? Are you looking at his reflection in Liza’s eyes?” Kay takes a shot from the collection of the remaining few in front of her.

“We all know that if Sean was here, you’d already be practicing your scuba breathing.” Liza gently brushes back the few strands of blond hair that hang forward into Matt’s face which only makes him sigh softly and look at her like she’s the last woman on earth. 

You try not to be jealous. 

Kay only rolls her eyes. “Alright, I’m taking initiative.”

“What does that mean?” You begin to ask, but Kay shoves you out of the booth and towards the handsome stranger who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since your eyes met moments ago. 

“Kay. What the hell?” You turn back to look at her, but she’s already holding up your forgotten shot. 

“Take this and go over there.”

“But-”

“The only butt you should be thinking about is his, in those deliciously tight jeans. You will thank me in the morning.” She refuses to budge. “And then come home and tell me everything the two of you did, because Sean’s about to go visit his family for a week and I will need something to fantasize about.”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, but then look to Liza hoping for help. Unfortunately she’s too busy counting Matt’s eyelashes to defend you. You look back at Kay who is still holding up the shot, gaze unwavering. 

I can’t believe I’m about to do this. 

You think to yourself with a sigh, before taking the shot, hoping that it will give you some of the confidence you need to talk to the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. 

I can do this, I can do this-

The internal monologue repeats itself over and over again with each step as you weave your way through the crowd to make it where the man is sitting, dropping your gaze to the people around you as if you’re more focused on them.

You weren’t, but staring at him while you were walking towards him seemed too predatory, and you could already feel how warm your cheeks were from your flush.

You grip the firm edge of the bar when you make it to him, using it to ground yourself there in the moment before you find the strength to meet his gaze.

There’s a faded green jacket hung over the high backed barstool behind him that you hadn’t noticed before.

Your eyes trace over his body, just a quick glance, but snags on his arms for just a second too long to be casual. They were even more glorious in person, tan and flecked with cinnamon colored freckles hidden beneath twisting tattoos that disappeared into his dark shirt sleeves.

“Hi.” You smile shyly at the man when you meet his gaze.

“Hi.” He rumbles with an easy smile while the green of his eyes flashes in the neon sign hanging behind the bar.

His voice catches you off guard. You weren't expecting it to be so smooth, silk over your skin, but also like the rough drag of the ocean against sand as it pulls it out to sea.

“Hi.” You say again as all other thoughts evaporate from you mind and you fight the urge to facepalm. 

What the hell am I doing over here? I might as well do the walk of shame back to my own table. 

Russell raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Hi.” He echoes.

You open your mouth-

“Before you say hi back sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you’re drinking instead?” He winks making your cheeks warm with their flush.

Honestly, you were expecting him to be turned off by your somewhat awkward introduction, but if you bothered him, he doesn’t show it. He leans towards you curiously, eyes drinking you in. 

You clear your throat while your mind scrambles to come up with something appropriate or sexy to say other than ‘wow you’re pretty.’ You settle on. “Whatever you’re drinking.” 

Smooth real smooth. 

You glance back in the direction of where your friends are sitting as the man’s gaze turns to the bartender so he can order you a drink. Kay makes an obscene gesture with her hand that makes Matt kick her under the table, and Liza gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

Kill me now. 

You turn back to the man lounging against the bar, unaware that he’s watching you again. 

“You seemed like you were having some fun over there. What were you talking about?” He nods his head in the direction of your friends, the motion causing more of his dark hair to fall into his eyes and you fight the urge to push it back from his face and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

“Oh um.” Your mouth goes dry. The last thing you wanted to say to the gorgeous man was that your friends and you were discussing what animated movie characters turned you on. So you blurt out. “The First Law of Thermodynamics.”

It had clawed its way from the dark recesses of your mind where the rest of the test answers had been hiding from you when you tried to summon them earlier. 

“What?” The man laughs while you feel your face begin to blaze. 

“The First Law of Thermodynamics?” You clear your throat. “The theory that energy cannot be created or destroyed."

Where was that when I needed it for the test?

“Huh.” He smirks and takes a long sip from the beer in his hand. “Didn’t think Tarzan had anything to do with that.”

Oh sweet baby potatoes he heard the daddy conversation. Why couldn’t he have heard the Jessica Rabbit conversation instead?

“Ah.” You laugh awkwardly, realizing exactly what he overheard. 

The bartender puts down a bottle of beer in front of you and whirls away to another patron sitting on the opposite side of the bar. The band begins to play a new song, this one louder with more drums than the last one, causing the man to lean closer to you so you can hear him. 

“So.” The smell of the man’s cologne wafts over you. He smells like pine, mint, whiskey, and there’s an odd smell you can’t place, something that smells almost a little bit like smoke.

You ascribe it to cigarettes, but you don’t realize how wrong you are. 

There’s something about him, more than just how attractive he is or how good he smells that draws you in. Maybe you’d just been burned by far too many boys and were blinded by the man sitting in front of you, but he had a roughness and self-sufficient air that you found refreshing. 

He was assertive, sexy, with smoldering green eyes that somehow seemed soft and hard at the same time and filled you with an unholy amount of desire. 

“So?” You parrot, bringing the beer up to your lips, hoping that a sip will take the edge off. 

“Don’t you want to hear mine?” His voice is low and sultry, breath warming the air between the two of your faces. 

You sputter out a cough, choking on the sip you took in surprise, and his eyes widen in concern.The man brings his hand down against your back with a hearty smack to clear out your lungs.

“Are you okay?” 

“Never better.” You choke out, voice a little wheezy. “Wrong pipe.”

This is quickly becoming the most embarrassing moment of my life. 

“Are you sure?” The stranger’s eyes trace over you as if he fears you’ll start asphyxiating at any moment.

“Mhmm.” You clear your throat again. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you wanted to hear mine.”

You suddenly forget how to breathe, the only thing grounding you to this moment is the hand you placed on the cherry wood of the bar. “Sure.”

“Rain.”

Despite the last few seconds of you feeling so awkward it made you want to sink into the floor like quicksand and the fact that your throat is still burning from when the beer went down the wrong pipe, your mouth quirks up in a smile. “The horse from Spirit?”

“Mhmm.” He smiles a little wider. “My little sister used to watch that movie non-stop, and there was always something about that horse.”

“Huh.” You muse taking another sip of the beer, this time successfully not choking on it. “I didn’t peg you for a horse guy. You seem more like a Nala person.”

“Oh that lion did it for me too.” The man leans closer to you and you can feel your knees getting weak. “She definitely had bedroom eyes.”

“She did!” You laugh at him. “The animators knew what they were doing.”

It was getting easier to talk to him now and you could feel your nerves slowly going out to sea. There’s a comfortable silence that fills the air between the two of you.

“Why did you say the First Law of Thermodynamics earlier?” He asks before taking a sip from his beer. The condensation trickles down the side of the glass to pool against the wood of the bar.

“Because I didn’t want to admit what we were talking about.” You answer honestly. “And I guess it’s still a little fresh in my mind-”

“Why?”

“I had a physics test today. Completely bombed it. That’s why my friends brought me out tonight, they were trying to make me forget it.” You wave a hand dismissively, but it was the first time you’d thought about the test in the past hour and it still stung a little bit. 

You were hoping that by this point of the night it wouldn’t have mattered anymore, but it did. Not to mention you didn’t exactly want to be talking about your most recent failure with a man who looked anything like he did. 

But something about him made you feel comfortable talking to him about things that were not on the pre-approved list of subjects you created when you spoke to people you were attracted to. He didn’t seem to just be some hot stranger in a bar, he seemed like he actually cared, and that he was invested in what you were going to say. 

It made him even more attractive. You weren't used to boys wanting to actually listen to anything you had to say.

“I’m sorry.” His face pulls down into a sympathetic frown. 

“Me too.” You sigh. 

“Maybe you didn’t do as bad as you think you did.”

“Oh I did. When I turned in the test, the professor made a face.” Your thumb rubs against the glass of the cold bottle clutched in your hand. “I studied all week for it and it kinda feels like I wasted all that time.”

The man studies you for a moment. “I think that if you learn something from it, then it’s not a waste. There are no accidents.“

“Are you purposely quoting Master Oogway to make me feel better or is that just a coincidence?” 

“He’s a smart turtle.” He laughs pleased with himself that he made you smile. “But you remembered the First Law of Thermodynamics. And I thought it was a nice pick up line. Might use that sometime.” 

“Shut up.” You laugh and raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but he catches it with his.

The contact of the rough palm of his hand in yours makes electricity zing through your body, bringing a wave of heat coursing behind it. 

“That’s not very nice. Keep trying to hit me like that and I might have to take you to court, Sweetheart.” He winks.

“Oh please-” 

“How else am I going to run into you again?”

“Well-” You swallow trying to find the next words, but they’re stuck in the back of your throat. 

I am so out of practice. 

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge, the end of his perfect mouth teased upwards in a smile. 

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“What did you have in mind?” The heat of his gaze sends goosebumps dancing over your skin and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in the base of your throat. 

People do this all the time. I can say it. I can-

“Maybe-” You scoot closer to him, summoning some courage from the tequila. “Something like this.” 

Your free hand curls into the front of his shirt to pull the stranger closer for a kiss.

Unfortunately, you pull him just a little too hard, with a little too much enthusiasm, and he falls off the stool with a startled cry in surprise and knocks his head into yours. 

“Ow.” You groan rubbing at the red mark forming on your forehead. “I am so sorry.” 

By now your cheeks are so warm that you could fry an egg on them and you were sure you looked like a giant raspberry. You had never been so clumsy or so embarrassed in your entire life. 

“It’s okay, you just surprised me a bit.” The man says, but he’s peering at the mark on your forehead. “Are you okay?” 

How many times is he going to ask me that tonight? 

“Yeah the only thing that’s hurt is my pride.” You let out an awkward laugh. “I’m just gonna-“ You gesture with your thumb over your shoulder to signify that you’re going to leave. 

The anecdotes that your friends were going to tell from tonight had already begun to manifest in your head:

“Hey, remember that time you tried to flirt with a gorgeous man at the bar and you headbutted him?”

“Hey, remember that handsome stranger? The one you told all about your failed physics test instead of sleeping with him?”

“Wait.” He gently puts his hand on your waist, sending your heart into a gallop. “Can we try that again?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

So far all you’d done was head butt him and tell him your sob story about failing your physics test. 

Worst seduction technique ever. 

“Don’t move.” He smiles. “Don’t want to have to take you to the hospital for a CT if you bump my head again.” 

It would have made you laugh if he wasn’t already kissing you.

It might just be the alcohol talking, or the fact that the last thing you kissed was the strawberry pillows on the couch in the living room last week when Liza, Kay, and you were watching your favorite paranormal tv show and you were imagining the male lead, but this kiss is nothing like any of the others you’d had in the past. 

His mouth devours yours, beard scratching against your cheeks in a way that makes your entire body buzz. The man’s hands tighten your waist to draw you closer, closing the space between your bodies, and all you can feel is the wonderful drag of his fingertips against the end of your sweatshirt, the burn of his beard, the press of his chest onto yours, and the tangle of his tongue as you sink further into him. 

A moan vibrates up through his chest and into your mouth that you echo with a soft sigh, your hands slipping over the taunt muscles before finding purchase against his back, your fingertips curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

The rest of the bar is rendered to a dull throb of life at the back of your mind, the man in front of you absorbing the rest of your attention as he should. He is nothing like anyone you’d ever met and you wanted to know more. You wanted to see the end of the odd shaped scar just at the base of his throat, trail your fingers over the dark tattoos that decorated his skin while searching for more in places you couldn’t yet see, and sink into the deep green sea of his eyes. 

“Better?” He breathes.

“Much, but if you’re not into that, I also know the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Just to give you something to remember me by.” You mumble against his lips, still slightly embarrassed. Your hands were still curled behind his strong shoulders, fingertips digging into the firm muscles.

“Beside the bruises?” He smirks before he kisses you again, the languid roll of his tongue against yours makes you forget your own name. “I’d very much like to hear it.” The rumble of his words vibrates through where your bodies are pressed against one another. “But first let me get the car and then I’ll let you tell me all about it.” 

He brushes his lips to yours one more time, before he puts cash on the bar, and leaves you breathless as he saunters away towards the front door. 

Holy fucking shit. How did that work?

“Girl Yes!” You hear Kay, before you feel her hands come down on your shoulders to shake you excitedly. “I was a little worried in the middle there for you with that head butt, but yes! That’s how you do it!” Her excited squeal brings you back down to earth from the cloud you were floating on with Russell. 

“Where’d he go?” Liza asks. Matt was holding her from behind, his chin on her shoulder as he slowly rocked her to the music.

“To get the car.” Your cheeks flush at the insinuation. 

“Fuck I am so jealous. The only thing I’m going to get to do tonight is Sean’s back.” Kay gives an exaggerated sigh. “It’s acting up and that means I’m going to have to give him a massage for an hour and not the good kind. It always knocks him out.” 

“Aww babe.” Liza says. 

“It’s okay.” Kay shrugs, but then sends her a saucy wink. “I can do some laundry. His washing machine has this spin cycle that makes me see stars.” 

“I didn’t need to know that you’ve been molesting our washing machine.” Matt closes his eyes as if trying to scrub the image from his mind. 

“It’s money well spent, Mattie.” Kay batts her eyes at him. 

He huffs, but then turns his gaze on you, his blue eyes are filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, nerves popping and sizzling inside so much that they might as well be giving off enough electricity to power New York City. “I don’t get a creepy vibe from him. I think he’s actually kind of nice.” 

It was true. Your radar was usually on point with things like this, and there was something about Russell that didn’t scream axe murderer. He seemed surprisingly laid back and honest, and you found yourself curious to know more about him. 

Matt doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s okay babe.” Liza says, swaying her and his body to the music. “We have the app on our phones and we all know the safe word.” She continues, referencing the word the three of you designated when everything was okay as well as the other word that meant everything was going terribly wrong. 

You didn’t think that you would need it. 

He sighs. “Fine, but if he tries anything weird-”

“What qualifies as weird for you?” Kay asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve always been curious about your kinks.” 

Kay always took pride in getting under Matt’s skin. You never knew why that was, only that it seemed to be her mission to make him crack. He never did. 

“Be safe.” He nods at you before he drags Liza towards the door. 

“Seriously babe.” Kay begins to back away. “Be safe. Because the last thing you want to pass right now is a pregnancy test.” 

“Why are we friends again?” You groan as you follow behind her, weaving through the mass of bodies writhing to the newest song. 

The air outside the bar is cooler, but there’s just a hint of something on the wind. Spring was coming, but it was still far enough away to leave just a light chill in the air. The street in front of Duke’s was populated sporadically with cars of varying shapes and colors, but you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of car the mysterious stranger drove. 

Why didn’t I ask him for his name? 

“Because you’d be lost without me.” Kay laughs at you, but then pulls you into a hug. “Have fun and please try not to think about that stupid test. You’re so smart and I promise that one test is not going to define your entire future. If that were true my first organic chemistry test would have come with a refrigerator box to live in, because that test was literally the stuff of nightmares.” 

She frowns at the memory. It was the first test that she had ever failed in her entire life, and although you were the one who usually obsessed over grades, it was the first time you’d ever seen Kay so disappointed. That was also because her professor had asked her to stop by for office hours and told her that there was no way she’d ever be able to get the grades she needed in his class. 

But a weekend marathon of Sex and the City listening to her mentor Samantha Jones, had brought her back to life and she’d sauntered confidently into the classroom armed with a flat white latte and sat in the front row at every lecture the rest of the semester. 

She’d gotten the highest grade in the class. 

Basically, Kay was your hero, that was the real reason why you were her friend. 

“I’ll try my best. Tell Sean hi for me.” You squeeze her just as tight, before she walks away down the darkened path back to campus where Sean would be waiting for her. 

There was an odd glow over the sidewalks tonight, a yellowed light that crawled along the cracked brick building that housed Duke’s and halted just shy of the opening of the alley that ran between Duke’s and the bank next door. No other people were visible. Even the small crowd that usually leaned against the rustic brick wall outside of the bar smoking was nowhere to be seen. 

It was odd.

You rub your hands down your arms with nervous anticipation. You’d slept with someone from a bar one time before, but one night stands were not your forte at all. The last time it’d happened, you’d gone back with a guy to his apartment only to find out an hour later when his girlfriend got home that he wasn’t single. She hadn’t seemed surprised that you were in bed with him, but you had been when she pulled out a switchblade the size of your hand and began to slash through the neatly arranged collection of plush squish-mallows on the floor while screaming obscenities at the guy.

In hindsight, maybe the squish-mallows were a clue that he was in a relationship. 

But you didn’t have any bad feelings about the man you’d met. He was attractive, witty, nice, funny, and he genuinely seemed concerned about you when you almost choked to death on a sip of beer. 

I will make him forget the entire awkward encounter. 

You promised yourself, but you also began to be a little bit nervous. You didn’t know why it was taking him so long to find the car. 

A bird caws overhead, sweeping low across the buildings, feathers an inky black in the night air, its shadow flickering across the moon. 

Another two minutes pass and you start to get antsy. 

Maybe he just left?

The thought brings a wave of disappointment over you. The stranger was the first person in a long time that you’d felt genuinely attracted to and now you couldn’t help but think that maybe he lied and when he said he was going to get the car, he really was trying to get away from you as fast as possible. 

You take a few steps in the direction that Kay left thinking that you might as well cut your losses and see if you can catch up, but hesitate. 

What if I leave and he comes back? What if-

An odd noise that sounds like a cat hacking up a hairball comes from the alley directly to your right, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the pavement. 

You turn. Most of the alley is obscured in shadows, several large dumpsters jut out from grimy brick walls stained with God knows what, but you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. 

There are some lights fastened to the wall that runs the length of the bar, sending a dingy orange light over the bags of trash, empty flattened cardboard boxes, and plastic cups strewn over the wet ground. 

The door of Duke’s swings open for a moment, bringing the sounds and smells of the bar through the doorway as a woman enters tugging a sullen looking man behind her.

You turn your attention back to the empty alleyway, and catch the low rumble of a voice that sounds oddly familiar. It echoes through the darkness bouncing off the stone, metal, and bags of trash to where you stand at the dimly lit mouth of the alley.

That’s weird. 

Another sound follows the voice, a wet sounding thud that piques your interest. You take a tentative step forward into the darkness.

Wait. Isn’t this how every horror movie starts?

It was a valid question. But then you hear the voice again, it’s louder, vibrating against the brick and mortar, and it pulls your forward. 

Anxiety hums through your body as you inch down the alley, sticking to the well lit side that runs the length of Duke’s.

“Who sent you?” The familiar voice asks.

There’s no answer, and the sound of the cat choking up a hairball comes back. 

Someone needs to get Grizabella a glass of water.

You take another shaky step passing by the first dumpster before you reach the part of the alley that wraps around the back of the bar. 

At first you’re not sure what you see. The part of the alley behind the bar is more of a cramped street with a tire marked dirt path, bathed in awkward light from the moon and from a lazy streetlight that’s only half lit. There’s another dumpster back here, this one a little larger than the others you’d seen along the side of the building, but that isn’t what’s interesting. 

The image comes into focus. 

The stranger from the bar is standing there, his back to you, but he isn’t alone. The stranger has a man pinned to the dumpster, a large knife stabbed into the space between the man’s collarbone and his right shoulder while his other hand is clasped tightly around the man’s neck.

“Who sent you?!” The stranger roars, the knife digging into the man’s shoulder. 

Your entire body freezes in fear.

My radar was so wrong. How could it be this wrong? He was so caring and kind- That’s what they said about Ted Bundy. 

Your gaze drops to what you thought was a garbage bag at the green-eyed stranger's feet, but realize that it’s not a bag, it’s a body.

Holy shit he’s a murderer! Maybe if I just back away slowly-

You take a slow step backwards hoping to edge back into the alley that runs the length of the bar and forget this night ever happened, but instead of your foot finding solid ground, it finds a forgotten potato chip bag. 

The crinkled plastic crunches underfoot, breaking the still silence of the night. You inhale sharply and look up. Your gaze locks with the green-eyed man.

“I didn’t see anything.” You hold up your hands, backing away slowly. “Have a nice night.”

“Wait-”

“Nope.” You turn and flee down the alley hoping that someone is coming out of the bar at the exact moment who can witness the broad stranger chasing after you. His boots thud against the concrete, splashing through water in hot pursuit, contrasting against the plods of your own feet sloshing through puddles and through trash to get back to the light.

Before you make it halfway through the darkness, he grabs your arm and turns you to look at him. 

“Let me go!” You shriek, tugging at his grip, preparing to kick him between his legs, the only place that matters.

“Please wait. I can explain!” 

“You don’t have to explain!” You keep pulling at his arm. “I didn’t see anything! I don’t know who you are. And you know what? I wasn’t even in the bar tonight! I was back in my apartment watching Crime Scene Kitchen!” 

It was the first thing that popped into your head, but if it meant that you got to live, it would be your alibi.

He hesitates confused. “What’s Crime Scene Kitchen?”

“What? You just fucking murdered someone in an alley, you’re about to murder me, and that’s what you’re asking me?” You scream.

“I’m not going to murder you. And I was the one who was attacked!”

“Oh sure!” Fear clamps down hard on your throat squeezing the air coming in through your lungs. Tears begin to burn against your eyes as you try to release his grip. “Somebody help me!” You scream loudly trying to twist away from him and wishing that you’d brought your bottle of pepper spray or that you’d taken the self-defense class last summer with Kay or at least paid more attention to that scene in Miss Congeniality.

How could I have been so stupid? He’s going to kill me here and I’ll never know what that physics test did to my GPA. 

You frown slightly at that thought. It really is weird what goes through your head when you think you’re going to die. 

“Please, let me explain.” He says again, eyes wide and filled with an emotion that looks surprisingly like regret.

His dark hair has fallen forward over his cheeks that are flecked with blood, but the lights that line the wall of the dark alley perfectly frame his face. He looked like a model for a beer commercial or one that they’d roughed up a little for those weird perfume commercials you saw that never made any sense, but were always intriguing. 

Why are all the hot ones crazy? Why couldn’t he have just been a bad kisser? Or maybe a little too loud? Why is his flaw that he freaking MURDERS people? 

As you think that, there is a little voice inside your head that asks: Could I be okay with that? 

NO! OF COURSE NOT!

“There’s nothing to explain! You’re a murderer! You just killed those people!” You aim a kick at his crotch, but the man only catches your ankle with his large hand. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your sweatpants, the sensation that brought warm tingles through your body when you were in the bar, only sends a wave of fear crashing over you.

“Yes I did, but for a good reason!”

“Really? What reason was that!?”

“They were trying to kill me!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, gunfire explodes over your head. Sparks fly as bullets crash into the dumpsters and rip through the night air around where you and the man are standing.

There’s a large black suburban parked in the street that runs behind Duke’s where you’re found the stranger with the body. Three men stand in front of it all in dark clothing and each one is  holding a pistol pointed directly at where you’re standing. 

“Holy shit!” You scream, but the stranger tackles you back behind the large rusting green dumpster that juts out and gives you cover from the blaze of bullets.

His body lays over yours, curving protectively around you, and his arm is behind you head so when you hit the ground, your head doesn’t. The impact of the cold, wet, concrete beneath your body jostles through your system, but you can’t focus on it too much, not when the man’s entire body is laying on top of yours and it feels as if he was made especially for you. 

He lays in the cradle of your thighs, wonderfully broad and hard, the muscles of his body contrasting to the soft curves of your body underneath your clothes. It left very little to the imagination, well… not little. 

It’s enough to make a girl forget that he’s a murderer… No, what am I saying!!

You shove him off of you and cower back behind the dumpster, the sound of gunfire filling your ears and making you realize exactly what you smelled on the man earlier that you thought was smoke. 

“Baby-” He says reaching out to comfort you.

“Don’t touch me! I’m not your baby!” You swat his hands away from you pressing yourself back into the wet wall of the alley. 

The smell of mold and trash was rising all around you in an unholy mist. The wet ground soaked into the soft fabric of your pants and left stains that you didn’t want to think about what they were. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit-” It comes out like a sickening mantra as you rock back and forth, hands on your ears to make the sound of the gunfire stop.

I’m going to die here. In this dismal back alley. In front of this gorgeous murder. If I had know that I wouldn’t have spent so much of this week studying for a mother-fucking physics test!

“Sweetheart!” The man shouts to catch your attention, but you don’t look at him. 

“What in the devil’s ass is happening?!” You shriek.

“Listen to me!” He shouts louder over the sound of gunfire and takes your cheeks in his rough palms to make him look at him. His green eyes are brilliant in the light, but filled with a determined fire that makes you suddenly feel very safe despite watching him kill someone and the active gunfire bouncing all around you. 

You wanted to trust him, but you also didn’t want to be on the news or used as a cautionary tale for mothers to guilt their daughters with. 

“I promise that nothing is going to happen to you.”

“How can you guarantee that?!”

“Because I don’t break my promises.” The determined grit in his eyes hardens as they sweep over your face. “I will explain what’s going on. But first I have to go talk to them.” He releases your face, but hesitates. 

The man wasn’t bothering to duck and cover, in fact each time a bullet ricocheted off the side of the dumpster he didn’t even flinch, meanwhile the sour taste of bile was rising into your mouth and you were sure that you were going to throw up. Panic was setting in, and your heart rate was getting dangerously high as anxiety and fear flickered along your nerve endings. 

Oh my sweet goodness he’s mentally unstable.

“Actually.” He sighs and flashes an awkward smile. “I don't want to lie to you. I’m going to go kill them. Don’t move.” He reaches into the waistband at the back of his worn jeans and pulls out a gun. 

Has he had that this whole time? HOW did I not feel it? 

“Wait what? Don’t go out there!” Your fingers fist in the front of his jacket, the fear of him leaving you more than the fear of him murdering you. At this point it was either be killed by the beautiful stranger or killed by the other guys, and being killed by the other guys meant that you’d have to meet someone new and look where that had gotten you tonight. 

“They’re not exactly going to leave on their own.” He cracks a smile despite the situation. “But promise me you’re not going to move.” His smile turns into a concerned frown, eyebrows furrowing together as his eyes settle on you once more, steely and unyielding. 

“I promise.” Your voice comes out shaky and not at all what you sound like. Truthfully you were surprised that you got anything to come out of your mouth that wasn't vomit.

He nods once. 

When he leaves, you wait exactly three seconds, counting each of them out in your head before you take off in a dead run for the front door of Duke’s bar and into the safety of the street beyond without looking back while hoping that all of this has just been a bad dream. 

Coming back to the apartment feels surreal, crossing through the living room like a Salvador Dali painting, and finally closing your bedroom door and locking it is like a mirage. 

You weren’t sure how you made it back here, only that you did, and that was all that mattered.

Kay and Liza weren’t home, predictably, but you would have tried to call both of them if you hadn’t dropped your phone in the cluster fuck that was everything that happened an hour ago. Because on top of everything now you didn’t have any way to contact your friends and let them know that you’re alive and okay.  

Your body was still buzzing with the anxiety of everything that happened, mind going a mile a minute the longer you allowed it to bathe in the memories of being shot at and watching the stranger kill those men. 

The stranger that somehow was able to trick your radar.

I just need to breathe, relax, and- 

You turn around towards your bed expecting to go to sleep and forget all of it, but the thought stutters to a halt as you realize you’re not alone. The green-eyed stranger is standing there in the center of your bedroom. He is holding a bundle of your clothes in one hand and your empty school backpack in the other. 

“What the fuck?!” You scream and reach for the Strawberry Shortcake bat your dad bought you when you moved out, hefting it high on your shoulder preparing to swing. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He raises an eyebrow at your awkward stance. “Why are you holding a bright pink baseball bat?”

“All the better beat the shit out of rapists who break into my apartment in the middle of the night!”

“What happened to murderer?” The end of his lips lift up in a smile too perfect to be real. He almost seems to be enjoying this, like he thinks you’re being cute and not accusing him of something terrible. 

“That too!”

He laughs at you, but then his smile slips into a frown.“Why did you break your promise?” You don't understand why he looks like a kicked puppy at the thought that you broke your promise. 

Of course I didn’t keep it! I was running for my life to get out of the way of the millions of bullets pointed at my head!

“What?”

“You promised that you would stay there and you didn’t. You could have been killed.” Worry flashes in his gaze, and your eyes drop to the flecks of blood on the outside of his jacket that remind you of everything this man had done tonight.

“Oh, well excuse me for breaking a promise I made to a murderer!” 

“I’m not a murderer.” 

“If the boot fits!” You snap back. “You showing up in my bedroom certainly seems plenty murdery. That and you going through my underwear drawer for a little souvenir.” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“A souvenir?” The man laughs at you again, his shoulders shaking. He’s still wearing the same clothes he was in the alley, and again you’re momentarily stunned by how attractive he is.

“Why else would you be going through my drawers? And how do you know where I live!?”

“That’s not important right now.” The man shoves the bundle of your clothes into your backpack before moving back to the chest of drawers in the corner of your bedroom for another handful.

“What the fuck do you mean that’s not important right now? And what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m packing you a bag.”

“What? Why? So it’ll look like I ran away?!”

Oh holy fuck he’s still going to kill me!

You swing the bat as hard as you can, but the man raises the backpack to block your attack. 

“Calm down Derek Jeter! I’m not going to murder you, please stop saying that.”

“Why?”

He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Because it’s hurting my feelings a little bit.” 

“Hurting your-” You shake your head in disbelief. “Look, I have no idea who the fuck you are or why you broke into my apartment but-”

“Hi. I’m Russell.” The man now identified as ‘Russell’ holds out his hand to try and shake yours. 

That’s obviously a fake name. 

You stare at him blankly. “Are you insane?”

“No, I just told you, I’m  Russell. And we have to go.” He retracts his hand and begins to shove clothes into your backpack again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, crazy! I have class in the morning and an exam in two days!” You heft the baseball bat higher on your shoulder as a silent threat.

Judging by the way he blocked your attack so easily a few moments ago, you didn’t have high hopes. But you did think that if you screamed loud enough your elderly neighbor, aptly named Willy due to the many, many times he’d flashed Kay, Liza, and you “accidentally,” would come over at least to see if you had any extra magazines to take back to his hoarder apartment that was stacked floor to ceiling with yellowed newspapers long out of print. 

Russell sighs, and looks from the bat to you, shoulders relaxing a millimeter, but there’s still something determined in his gaze. “I understand that you’re scared, but those guys, they saw you with me.”

“So?”

“So if I leave you here with no protection, they’re going to come here and take you.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes I do!” He replies, the edge of his voice is tinged with anger and frustration. 

“How?”

“Look!” Russell holds up a battered phone. Displayed on the cracked screen is a message thread of texts to an unknown number. Russell clicks on one of the pictures that was sent an hour ago, about the time the two of you met.

As it grows larger on the screen you recognize the two people in it. It’s a picture of Russell and you kissing at the bar. Your eyes are closed, hands curved over his shoulders possessively, while you smile into his mouth.

The memory of the kiss sends a warm tingle down your spine as you remember how good the kiss was. It was definitely in the top ten, hell, it was number one. 

Don’t be seduced by his charm and good looks! You saw him kill someone tonight! Not to mention he probably killed those other guys that were shooting at you.

Russell swipes his finger over the screen again, this time the picture is of him and you talking, your face on full display. You’re laughing at something Russell said with your right hand resting on the cool bottle of beer you never finished. Honestly, if anyone was seeing those photos for the first time it would look like Russell and you were together. 

“You took pictures of me!?” You shout. “You’re a fucking freak!” 

“Sweetheart, listen to me-”

“I’m not your Sweetheart. You’re just some random murder that I met at a bar!”

The things that I’ve said tonight for the first time could be an SNL skit. Why me?

“For the last time, I am not a murder! And I didn’t take those photos. The men who were after me did.”

“So? Why would they care about some random girl?”

“Because they don’t know you’re some random girl I met! They think that you’re important to me and until I figure out who they sent these pictures to, you’re not safe.”

“Can’t you text them and say that you just met me tonight? That it’s a pure coincidence?! That I’m not important to you.” You point at the cracked phone, waving your free hand frantically at it.

Russell laughs at your question. “Are you kidding? Do you think they’re going to believe me?”

“I don’t know! And how would they know where I live?”

“The same way I knew how.”

That is a good point. How did he know where I lived?

You hesitate, gaze flicking over where Russell stands with your backpack in his hand, but another idea begins to wiggle from the depths of your mind. “Wait. Is this some kind of kinky thing you do? Some fetish? Pretending to be a spy or that people are after you just to get yourself all hot and bothered?”

“What?” Now it’s Russell’s turn to look at you like you’re crazy. 

You take that as confirmation. “It is! Holy fuck, that is so messed up.”

Wow forget murderer, he’s an actual psychopath. Why the hell did I drop my phone?

Kay and Liza weren’t going to be back tonight. Especially not if they think that you took “Russell,” if that really is his name, back to the apartment. You had no other way of contacting them, except with your laptop that was sitting closed on your bed behind where Russell was standing. 

“Wait a minute. I’m not a spy.”

“Exactly, that’s the point! You’re pretending to make me-”

“No, I’m not. I promise all of this is real!” Russell sighs frustrated. “I know that you don’t want to believe me, but it isn’t safe here. And I can protect you!”

“That’s exactly what you would say to kidnap me!”

“Sweetheart. I am not going to kidnap you, I’m trying to keep you safe. I mean, if I have to kidnap you I will-”

Your eyes widen and you heft the bat high on your shoulder prepared to swing.

“Sorry, that was a bad joke.” He holds up his hands in surrender, flashing an apologetic smile. “What would it take to make you believe me?”

It was the question that you had been contemplating since he’d protected you in the alley. You knew nothing about him, didn’t know what he did for a living, and you’d only just learned his name. But despite everything that happened there was a little part of yourself that wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe everything he was telling you, well, not the part about you being in danger and the idea that people now wanted to kill you, but the part about being able to trust him. 

You think about the way he made you feel at the bar, when he listened to you complain about your physics test and made you laugh. You’d trusted him then, enough to go home with him or at least, try to go home with him. 

“I don’t know.” The bat slips a little bit from your shoulder with your honesty. “Do you have any character references?”

Russell cracks a smile. “Isn’t it a little early for you to ask me about my old girlfriends? Don’t think any of them would be willing to say anything good about me either.”

This time you can feel a little smile begin to tug at the end of your lips, one that Russell notices. 

“I know that you’re scared.” He takes a tentative step forward. “But I promise that I will explain everything to you, answer all your questions, but all I know is that you’re not safe here. And I can’t in good conscience leave, if I know you’re in danger.”

The look in his eyes had the determined fire you’d seen many times tonight, but there was something honest about it. They saw through you, and even though you had spent most of the night terrified and believed him to be a murderer, you didn’t think that someone like that would be so determined for you to go with him. 

It felt like two parts of your head were at war. You wanted to trust Russell, you didn’t think he was lying to you, but you had seen him kill those men. And there was an unfortunate part of you that worried he made all of this up to kidnap you. 

But I think if he meant to do that… he would have jumped me the minute I walked into my bedroom, he wouldn’t have said “hi.”

“I know this whole thing sounds crazy. But the last thing I want is for you to die because of something stupid I did. Please.”

You bite the inside of your cheek thinking about Kay and Liza. “If I leave, what about my roommates? They live here too.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not going to sugar coat it Sweetheart, there’s always a chance that they’ll be hurt, but with you gone, there’s also a chance that these guys will focus more on finding me.”

“So basically you can’t guarantee their safety?”

“No.” He drops his gaze for a moment, but then he looks at you again. “But I can guarantee yours and I don’t want to take the chance with your life. And my brother is smart, maybe he can figure out a way to keep them safe too.”

You stand there for a moment contemplating what he’s saying, the memories of everything that happened tonight rising up in an unrelenting wave, not just cowering behind the dumpster, but the kiss the two of you shared, and the way he made you laugh.

I want to trust him. I don’t think he’s lying, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. You think to yourself, and then the inevitable thought comes. I feel safe with him. 

“Do you promise that your name is Russell and that you’re telling me the truth?” You ask one more time to make sure.

“Yes.”

So you take a chance and hope to God that you’re not wrong. 

“Okay.” You nod, lowering the bat entirely. “I’ll go with you.”

He sighs in relief. “Good.” Russell holds out the backpack towards you. “You should probably pack this. If I had my way, there won’t be much in here besides underwear.”

“You’re such a guy.” You roll your eyes and take the backpack from him, but you can't help the smile that curls on the end of your mouth.

Russell returns it, pleased with himself that he'd gotten you to smile again. “That's better than you accusing me of being a murderer.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.” 

“But you have to admit… this did make you forget your physics test right?”

He's not wrong... but you don’t think that this is better.

A/N: I had so much fun with this one. I hope y'all laughed as much as I did 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee @kr804573 @waynes-multiverse

[jam-the-hologram]

Hey, I was wondering…

It would be cool if you would elaborate in the tags :}

[eddiesxangel]

1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M

Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship

Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words

“Come again?”

“I used to work a sex hotline,” you shrug like it was no big deal.

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Try me.” He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; never had you seemed promiscuous.

You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.

“Ring ring,” he giggles.

“Hello.” You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.

“Hi,” he smirks.

“Can I get a name, handsome?”

“ Eddie”

“Mmmm, hi, Eddie. I’m Candy.”

“Candy?”

He breaks character, but you don’t.

“the boys say it’s because I’m so sweet.” You fake giggle.

“This is my first time calling. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk you through it… you want to get comfortable for me?”

Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasn’t really sure how you all ended up here.

“I’m comfortable.” He says without actually moving.”

“I wish I could see; you sound so sexy.” You sigh.

Another giggle leaves Eddie’s lips because who is this person who’s taken over your body?

“Yeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?” Playing into it more.

You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. “oh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.” You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddie’s eyes widen at what you just said.

“Oh-okay, that’s enough.” He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. “I believe you!”

You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

Everyone looked at you with shock.

Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

“What did you say?!” Robin begs.

You shrug in response like it was another day at work… which it has been.

“Damn, is it hot in here?” Steve pops the collar of his shirt.

“You guys need to loosen up, my god.”

While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.

“I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,” your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.

He can’t go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didn’t help.

A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.

“You okay, big boy? You’ve been in there fifteen minutes.” He hears you laugh from the other side.

Had it really been that long?

Eddie’s issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him… talking to him like that.

“Yeah-I-uh- just a minute.” Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.

You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.

You weren’t attractive… were you?

Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; you’re just a friend, always had been, always will be… unless?

The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful features…and when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he couldn’t get enough.

“You sure?” You try to jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under with breath.

“Come on, Ed, talk to me, please?”

You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.

“Hi,” he’s short and sounds a bit out of breath.

“I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but…no.”

“Yes, but no?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didn’t see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.

“Eddie?” You look up at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes snap to your concerned face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-“

“You’re not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.

You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

“That’s not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.”

“I’m sorry, I just!-didn’t think?”

“It’s okay. I’m just trying to get rid of it, but it’s not going away.”

“You mean?”

“I’m waiting it out.”

“Oh, ok.” You nod awkwardly.

An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for your help if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Ok…”

Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.

“I um… I guess I’ll just.” You point to the door that he’s blocking.

“Uh. Ok,” he nods and steps to the side.

You close the door behind you but don’t leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? He’s a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.

With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before you’re able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.

You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.

Eddie was jerking off because of you… and you liked it?

Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.

He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.

You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.

“Woah,” Eddie catches you before you’re able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Oh god, sorry” you’re so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.

“You were spying on me!”

“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“You totally were spying on me!” He accused.

“You’re the one who moaned my name!” You defend.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened.

“You’re the one who said all those… things!” his hands flailed.

“You’re the one who egged it on!”

“So!”

“So?”

“Yeah, so!”

“Woah, guys, what’s going on here?” Steve pops his head around the corner.

“Nothing,” you both glare.

“Ohhhhhkayyyyyyyy,” Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Eddie,” you sigh, “I don’t want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“We could, but I gotta know.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you like it?” He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I asked if you like listening to me?” he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

You gulp, not expecting Eddie’s demeanour to switch on a dime.

“I… I don’t know?”

“I think you did, and you’re too scared to admit it.” You can smell him. He is so close to you.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You watch as he leans in closer.

“Just trust me.” His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Eddie?”

“Let me try something.”

“Kay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.

A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.

You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.

“Woah”

“Yea woah,” you repeated dumbly.

“um… did you like it?”

“Yeah… did you?”

“Yeah.”

“cool… now what?”

“go out with me,” Eddie states confidently.

“Like a date?”

“what else would it be?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to say.” He smirks.

“I’m cute?” You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

Eddie doesn’t answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.

“We should get back to the others.” You sigh as you pull away.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Yes, I did. I asked you out.”

“No, you said go out with me. That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Yes, you were totally messing with him.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Just say yes! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” You hear Robin yell from the living room.

“Robin!” You hear Steve scold.

“What?”

You can’t help but laugh and can’t believe the next world’s coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, Eddie.”

[arc-misadventures]

The Beach: Ra

Jaune: Okay... wow she was seriously repressed... She really needed that...

Jaune: That was intense...

Jaune: I hope the scratch makes have healed...

Jaune: Hmmm...?

Jaune: Well, my aura's at full, so it should have been healed by now.

Jaune: Okay...

Jaune: I wonder if that video came out alright...

Jaune: Okay... Let's get going.

Jaune: Hmm... This side of the beach is pretty empty. I wonder why?

: It's because of all of the rocks, the tend to keep people away.

Jaune: The rocks? Well there's a lot of rocks, but why is the people staying away because of the rocks?

: People want to lie down on their beach towel, and suntan. Do you think people want to lie down on a hard jagged rock, instead of soft smooth sand?

Jaune: Hmm... That's a fair point... Wait. That voice sounds feminine? That's not the sound of my inner monologue! Who is speaking to me?!

: I'm over here~!

Jaune: Ah-ha! There you... are...?!

: Hello, Jaune~!

Jaune: H-Hi, Mrs. Branwen...

Raven: Didn't I tell you, Jaune: Call me, Raven~!

Jaune: Okay... R-Raven...

Raven: That's better~!

Jaune: S-So... Y-You're looking good... very, very good...

Raven: Oh, thank you~!

Jaune: S-So... What brings you over here...?

Raven: Oh, it's quiet. You don't see any screaming kids, whiney brats, dude bros...

Jaune: Those are good reasons...

Raven: And, since no one is coming here, I have this section of the beach all to myself~!

Jaune: Oh... Oh that sounds great, you don't have to deal with anyone's bullshit, because you're all alone.

Raven: Indeed it is. Now then, care to explain those scratch marks on your back?

Jaune: S-Scratch marks... what are you talking about...?

Raven: I can see the marks on your back, Jaune. So, care to explain yourself~?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Yeah, it's pointless to deny it...

Raven: Well~?

Jaune: Haa... Okay, I slept with, Willow Schnee in the showers back there...

Raven: You fucked, Willow Schnee?!

Jaune: We all so filmed it, because she wanted to send it to, Jacques to show how a real man does it...

Raven: You filmed it, and sent it to, Jacques?! Fuck that's hot~!

Jaune: Yeah, will asked me to live out her kinks, and honestly... she made one hell of a deal. And, well... scratch marks...

Raven: So what were, Willow's kinks?

Jaune: Young man reshaping her guts, cucking, Jacques. Stuff like that.

Raven: Damn, Willow is a nasty girl~! And, I thought I was kinky; I'm into my lover being rough with me; Pulling my hair, calling me his bitch, taking it up the ass, breeding, things like that.

Jaune: Well... Yeah... I've heard that a lot today... seems pretty common...

Raven: I do like to do it in public.

Jaune: P-Public?

Raven: Yeah, in public, some place where I could get caught being railed by some hot young sexy stud~! In a place like this for example...

Jaune: T-This place...?

Raven: Yeah, behind those rocks. I mean, how many people wouldn't like to live out the fantasy of taking a sexy piece of ass behind a boulder at the beach~!

Jaune: At the beach...

Raven: So... what do you say, Jaune? You interested in living out this old gals fantasy~?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Where's the best place to do this?

Raven: I found a nice place over there~!

Jaune: Okay, let's go!

Raven: Oh, and to warn you, Jaune: I'm a screamer.

Jaune: Oh, well it looks like you may get that audience like you asked for~!

Raven: If they're a sexy girl, can we invite her to join us? I love having threesomes with my wife. Having one at the beach... Oh gods, doesn't that sound so fucking hot~!

Jaune: Why don’t you call her over here, she can join us while we're at it~! She'll know where we are based on your screams~!

Raven: FUCK YES~!

///

Here's one for you @lar-mx Enjoy!

Link to Original Post.

[emilys-bangs]

of broken bones and hearts | e.p

Tags: established relationship, mom!emily, broken bones :(, mild hurt/comfort, a dash of angst, healthy helping of guilt ridden momily because of course she would be, use of petnames, no use of yn

Summary: Eloise breaks a bone. Emily freaks out, you exercise damage control, and the both of you pamper her with affection.

Word count: 2.7k

Work is slow. Slower than usual. No cases, no consults, nothing except brain numbing paperwork. Usually Emily doesn’t mind it—it means being home for dinner, helping settle Eloise into bed and unwinding with you on the couch. But today it grates on her.

She’s staring down at a half filled report for last week’s case, tapping her pen on the dotted lines with an idle restlessness. Her sugar-brimmed coffee is down to dregs. The fluorescent lights make her feel caged.

Her phone vibrates with a call; Emily is answering before the first ring dies out. She automatically knows it’s you—or she hopes it is.

“Hi, babe.” She thumbs the skin between her brows, waits for the sweet relief of your voice to come through.

“Hi. Okay, listen. I’m gonna tell you something, but don’t freak out.” 

Emily stiffens. Her spine goes ramrod straight; immediately, her thoughts flit to Eloise. 

“Is it Eloise?”

“She’s fine.” You insist. “We’re at the hospital. She broke her arm at play time, we just got done with the x-ray and we’re waiting for the doctor.” You say it all in one breath, a long string of words that makes Emily’s mouth go dry. “She wants to talk to you.”

Emily is still blinking at her computer when movement rustles in her ear—the phone being pressed to Eloise’s cheek. A belated tremble rocks her hands.

“Mommy.” Eloise whines quietly. The sound grips Emily’s chest in a vice. She’s still stuck in five seconds ago, before images of her daughter in a cast flooded her mind. She roughly shakes her head, as if she can force them out.

“El, hi.” Her voice is rusty. Emily clears her throat, digs her knuckles into her eye. Stars burst along her vision. “I heard you’re at the hospital. How do you feel, my love?” 

“My hand hurts,” Eloise sniffles. She sounds like a kicked puppy.

Emily’s fingers flex into a sweaty fist. “I know it does, honey. The doctor’s gonna make it all better now, okay? You just…you just have to stay really still for them so they can put a cast on. And then you’ll get to choose a color for it!” She forces fake cheer into her voice. “I bet they have a ton of colors.”

There’s a stretch of silence on the other end. Emily’s thumb forces its way between her teeth.

“Pink?” Her daughter mumbles eventually.

“Pink sounds perfect. Just remember to stay really still while they’re putting it on, okay?”

“Mmn.” 

The dulled tone of her voice makes Emily’s heart clench. Eloise is almost always cheerfully rambling about one thing or the other, her inner monologue spilled out for you and Emily to hear, taking up more space than she does. Hearing her reduced to weak, monosyllabic responses twists at Emily’s gut. She blows out a stuttering breath.

“I love you, Eloise. I’ll see you real soon.”

“’Kay.”

Emily is already standing by the time your voice comes through again. 

“Why did you just call?” She questions, only paying half a mind to the way she bites out the words.

“Because I knew you’d do this and I didn’t want to freak you out—well, more than necessary,” your voice lowers, “—before knowing she’s okay. And she is. She’s in a bit of pain but they gave her Ibuprofen a few minutes ago, it should kick in any minute.”

“A broken bone isn’t fine,” Emily mutters, flipping her report closed and grabbing her purse. She doesn’t meet Reid or Morgan’s gazes as she steps past their desks to Hotch’s office. “I’m on my way.”

“We’re almost done here.” You say. For the first time, she hears the threads of exhaustion in your voice. Emily’s frown deepens.

“I’ll meet you at home, then.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

You resign to it. So does Hotch. Emily tries to ignore the tremble in her hands as she gets in the elevator and presses P.

___

She gets home before you do. When you walk in with a McDonald’s bag in your hand it’s clear why. A pharmacy bag dangles from your wrist, dangerously close to slipping over the heel of your hand as you shut the front door. Eloise is in your arms, slumped and limp; her purple cast hangs listlessly off your shoulder.

Emily distantly clocks the deep violet but doesn’t linger on it, hurrying instead to lighten your load, taking the food and the meds before easing Eloise’s school bag from your grip. You murmur a quiet thanks. Her lips find your cheek, a wordless response, and then she’s stepping behind your shoulder to glance at your daughter.

“She’s pretty out of it,” you whisper. 

You’re not wrong. Eloise’s eyes are closed, lashes threaded together and resting on her cheeks. Mouth pressed into your shoulder, she breathes evenly, not stirring at her mother’s light touch when she reaches over to sweep the mussed bangs over her brows. 

“Poor thing.” Emily sighs quietly. “Let’s get her to bed.” She murmurs. You nod, though the sun still streams in through the windows and paints the house gold. 

It takes more effort than it usually does to settle your daughter into bed. You take careful steps all the way to her room and Emily drowns Eloise’s bed with more pillows than usual; when you finally set her down in it, you gently elevate her arm the way the doctor showed you to. Throughout it all Eloise only stirs when you move the cast. Her whine is muffled, fingers twitching where they peek out from under the plaster. Emily bites down on her thumb to stop herself from grabbing your hand away.

“How did it happen?” She asks when you’re in the kitchen, putting the happy meal in the oven. 

Your brows tick upward. “She was trying to do a cartwheel.”

“Jesus.” Emily groans into her hands. Guilt curdles in her stomach again, making her shudder with nausea. 

She was the one who suggested gymnastics lessons in the first place. Ballet and soccer failed to catch Eloise’s attention; she was too listless in her tutu and too disgruntled at being jostled around in her soccer jersey. Gymnastics seemed like a perfect fit. It’s only been a few months but she’s obsessed with it, constantly twisting and bending on the mat you’d gotten her, all but abandoning her toys in favor of rolling around in the living room. You and Emily had warned her time and time again about practicing without either of your supervision, but the girl is four years old and half Emily.

“It’s my fault,” Emily mutters. She digs her palms deeper into her eyes, sparks flashing in the dark. “God, what was I thinking? She’s fucking four years old—”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” You say, gripping Emily’s wrists and pulling none too gently. The look in your eyes is hardened with determination—a common sight that usually pulls her from the edge whenever she spirals about anything regarding your daughter. “You said it yourself, Em, she’s four. Accidents like this are bound to happen, whether she’s doing gymnastics or not.”

“She wouldn’t have tried to launch herself into the air otherwise,” Emily mutters, unsurprised to feel a dampness on her lashes.

“Wouldn’t she?” You tilt your head. Eloise is nothing short of adventurous, and both you and Emily know that. You squeeze a soft pattern on her wrists, fingers digging lightly into her skin before letting go and doing it again.

“No.” Her mouth pinches as she drops her forehead on your shoulder. “Maybe we should stop sending her to those lessons. They’re making her reckless.”

“They’re making her fearless. That’s not a bad thing, Emily.” Your fingers release her wrists and travel to the base of her neck, finding knots of tension. You start working them. “She’s not scared to try, and she shouldn’t be, just as long as we’re with her. But the point still stands—this could’ve happened for any other reason.”

Emily doesn’t say anything. She resignedly grabs on to your waist and inhales, filling her lungs with your familiar scent—shampoo, perfume, fabric softener. Something else sneaks in, too, spoiling the usual comfort of your fragrance. Emily recognizes it; faint traces of antiseptic. Her stomach turns.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe,” you murmur, now tracing her jaw, nudging her chin up to get her eyes to meet yours, “but not everything’s your fault. Things just happen sometimes.”

Emily responds with a sound deep in her throat, her brows arching wryly.

Your eyes narrow. “Okay,” you announce. “As your spouse, I demand you stop feeling guilty. Since I do know best and all.”

A smile tickles the corners of Emily’s lips. “Well, if my spouse insists,” she drawls, though her stomach is still unsettled from it all. A few years ago she’d have gaped in disbelief at this version of herself, but by now she’s well used to it—though she still doesn’t like it. Emily is perfectly composed, unshakable. Always. Except when it comes to you and Eloise. That has become a hard fact, as sure as the day is long. She’s entirely helpless to stop it.

“I do,” you murmur, pulling her in for a kiss. 

Emily belatedly realizes it’s the first time she’s kissed you since the morning. Her shoulders loosen from the press of your lips, soft against hers, the way you thread your fingers through her hair. Warmth builds in her chest; she wraps an arm around your back to keep you close, humming into your mouth. The world quiets for a moment, her frazzled nerves smothered into something more tame under your touch. Your nails gently scrape against her scalp and her spine warms, muscles unlocking as she lets go of your lower lip and nuzzles her nose into yours.

“Sorry I snapped at you,” she whispers.

“It wasn’t really a snap. More of a nibble,” you shrug, like you’re rolling it off your shoulders.

“Still.” Emily insists.

“It’s okay,” you give her a quick peck before escaping the cage of her arms, “I know how it feels. She’s my kid too, you know.” You make your way to the counter, peering into the grocery bag she’d left there before you came. “You went to the store?”

Emily nods as you pull out two sheets of stickers. “Got her ice cream,” she says, “and those. So she can decorate the cast.”

“Smart.” You hum. “She was pretty torn up about it not being pink.”

“What kind of hospital doesn’t have a pink fucking cast?” Emily scorns.

“A bad one,” you agree mildly. As your eyes scan the—very pink—sticker sheets, a smile starts to curve your lips. “But,” you wave them in the air, “at least you had the foresight.”

“At least.” Emily says dryly.

Silver linings and all that.

___

Emily’s leaning over dinner on the stove when a small voice catches her attention.

“Mommy,” Eloise mumbles, half squished into your shoulder. 

Emily turns to face the both of you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she sees the cast again. It starts just under Eloise’s right elbow and continues until her little knuckles, leaving only her fingers exposed under the purple. The toddler’s head is cushioned on your shoulder, her eyes drowsy with sleep but fighting to stay open. You’d hoped she’d sleep through the night, but barely two hours after you put her in bed she called out through her ajar bedroom door.

Emily steps away from the stove and into the reach of Eloise’s stretched arm, obliging her daughter and gingerly taking her from you. She’s unsurprised at this show of affection; Eloise—like herself—often demands it, more so when she’s sick or hurt. It’s one thing she’s infinitely glad her daughter inherited from her, even if right now it comes with more work. You help adjust her casted arm across her chest.

“Hi, Eloise.” Emily whispers, a muscle somewhere deep under her skin unlocking at the familiar weight in her arms. She brushes a kiss on her daughter’s sleep-warm cheek. “How’s my brave girl doing? Is your arm still hurting?”

Eloise shakes her head, her brows dipping into a frown identical to yours. “S’okay now,” she says. That doesn’t stop her lips from curving into a pout, her frown growing deeper by the second.

Emily presses her thumb to the wrinkled skin between her brows. “What is it, my love?”

Eloise burrows into Emily’s neck, her free hand curling around the collar of her sweatshirt. She huffs out a warm sigh, deeply grieved. “They didn’t have pink,” she mumbles.

You chew on your lip, clearly attempting to keep the smile at bay. Emily pulls a face at you as she absently smooths between Eloise’s shoulder blades.

“That’s awfully rude of them.” She says softly. Her lips find the warm skin of Eloise’s forehead; Emily presses a kiss there. “What if we put some pink stickers on it? Would that make it better?”

The sound Eloise makes isn’t entirely too pleased, but Emily carefully carries her over to where the stickers are anyway. She grabs a sheet and holds it up, thumbing at the plastic covering. “I got these for you. What do you think, would they look pretty on your cast?”

Eloise frowns at them, unconvinced. She reaches out to touch a sticker, her finger hovering between a slice of strawberry topped cake and a pink ice-cream cone.

“Those are pretty,” you nudge gently, sifting your fingers through Eloise’s bedhead and tucking some of the hair away from her face. “Do you wanna try putting them on?”

Her lips purse into a contemplating pout. Eloise shakes her head, turning to bury her face back into Emily’s neck again. Her frown is practically etched onto Emily’s skin; she can feel it, as sure as she feels the wild hair tickling the underside of her jaw. While this is a lesser pain than hearing her daughter’s distressed voice through the phone, it still throbs dully. Biting back a sigh, she sets the stickers down.

You step in again.

“Are you still hungry, El?”

Suddenly the weight of Eloise’s head lids off of Emily’s shoulder. “Did we get McDonald’s?” She asks, more energy in her voice than Emily’s heard all day. It’s a familiar burst of sunshine, the warmth of it sinking instantly into her skin. She closes her eyes and absently kisses the side of Eloise’s head, thanking all her lucky stars for you.

“We did, honey. Do you want to eat that now?”

Eloise’s frantic nodding makes both you and Emily smile. She comes out of her hiding spot, sufficiently appeased with the shift in conversation. As you heat up the meal, Emily grabs the toy inside and hands it to her daughter. 

“I’m gonna set you down now, honey.” She says. Eloise doesn’t pay her any mind, too preoccupied with the toy in her hand to care. Emily sets her down on the counter and hides a wince at the pull in her shoulder as she grabs the golden, sugar infested cup of apple juice in the greasy bag. You chat to Eloise as the food heats up, pulling her attention away from Emily diluting the juice.

“Can we also watch Star Wars?” She mumbles, fiddling with the toy one-handed. 

No TV while eating is a strict rule of yours. But under the weight of Eloise’s pleading eyes and her vibrant cast, it bends. A soft sigh answers, and Emily stifles a smile as you nod and murmur your assent.

That’s how you end up eating dinner on the couch, two pasta bowls and a happy meal on your respective laps, an army of stuffed animals joining you amongst the cushions to watch Lego Star Wars. Sergio serves as a willing armrest for Eloise’s cast, and that night the whole family wedges into your bed, carefully nestled between you and Emily.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights@professorsapphic

[cosmicrelease]

steve was just trying his best to make it through the day without breaking down. and had so far been successful. but once steve walked into the door of his house he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

he had plans to hangout with eddie soon which is something he’d normally be excited about, but the thing is, steve’s arms hurt. since the upside down and fighting monsters thing was over steve hadn’t been working out as much. so when he did, like he had that morning, he felt sore.

for most people this wouldn’t be an issue. but the whole reason steve had worked out in the first place was to stop the buzzing in his body and mind. some days he woke up and it felt like everything was turned up to maximum. all the sounds, textures, colors, and smells of an average day felt like torture. and it made him feel buzzy. so add sore arms on top of his already overwhelmed system? he felt like he could lose it at any moment.

steve took a second to sit in silence with his eyes closed to try and calm down as he waited for his boyfriend to arrive any minute.

meanwhile his inner monologue would not relent,

“my arms are sore. that dog outside is barking too loud. my arms are sore. i hope eddie is on his way. my arms are sore. my arms are sore. my arms are sore.”

his train of thought was brought to a halt by a knock at the door. he took a deep breath before getting up and walking to let eddie in.

as soon as eddie was inside steve was greeted with a chipper,

“hey sweetheart!”

steve tried to hide his grimace at the sudden booming voice of his boyfriend, but to no avail.

“stevie are you okay?” eddie asked quietly.

“my arms hurt” steve let out softly with a sniffle before crumpling into his boyfriends loving embrace letting the weight of the day crash over him. knowing eddie would take care of him.

eddie wrapped his arms around his love before softly saying,

“oh baby, let’s get you somewhere comfy.”

as they walked into steve’s room eddie made sure to turn on the small lamp on the table knowing steve wouldn’t want to deal with the big light during a time like this. but even after getting comfortable in bed laying with his head on eddie’s chest, steve’s mind is still in overdrive.

“eddie is so cuddly. my arms are sore. i hope he doesn’t mind that we aren’t going anywhere tonight. my arms are sore. I’m glad eddie doesn’t smell like cologne right now. my arms are so-“

“you okay love bug? i know you said your arms hurt but i know that’s not the whole story.” eddie interrupted steve’s never ending thoughts.

steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding before rushing out,

“today is just too much. i woke up and the sun was too bright and the birds were basically screaming outside. and i tried to workout to focus on something else but it didn’t really help. and then at work the lights were humming and robin kept saying she couldn’t even hear it and it made me feel crazy. then i noticed my arms hurt from working out. now i can’t un-notice it and i can kind of control the stuff around me but i can’t control the stuff in me!”

“hey okay sweetheart just take a deep breath, it’s going to be okay.”

steve took some deep breaths as eddie continued,

“how about we take a hot shower and afterward i can massage your arms for you. does that sound like something you’d be up for baby?”

steve didn’t hesitate to agree to the plan set before him by his wonderfully caring boyfriend. following eddie’s lead into the bathroom.

the shower helps to release some of the tension he had been holding in his body all day. the steam and eddies hands working in tandem to surround his body. once they get out and after the aforementioned massage steve drifts to sleep curled around eddie. mind quiet for the first time all day.

a/n: this is my first time writing more than just a blurb in like a decade so lmk how y’all feel ab it! (unless you hate it then you keep that to yourself lol)

[velvees-archive]

art cr: @cokiicookies on twitter

Tags: Love Confessions, Bratfeen, Art Student Feenie, Law Student Bratworth, Ace Attorney-typical cringefail, Canon Divergence

and many others!

HEAVILY inspired by @cokiicookies's bratfeen art on twitter! check out the full comic there!!!

"Hey...so...uh..." Phoenix coughs out, voice scratchy from his most recent line repetitions. It's a small mistake, not unsalvageable. All he has to do is stick to the script. Stick to the script. Stick... His eyes flick down to his note cards. He swears he’d printed them in his best penmanship, atop one of the library's extra premium desks, but everything is spinning and he feels faintly like he's going to throw up. "Did you uh," he starts, letters swirling in his eyes. "Did...you fall out of heaven...?" Genius prosecutor-in-training Miles Edgeworth regards him with a blank stare. Phoenix thinks now would be an opportune time for him to locate the nearest possible bridge and promptly jump off of it. - The joys and woes (mostly woes) of being in love, as told by BratFeen.

so i caved and wrote narumitsu. another huge thank you to @cokiicookies on twitter for allowing me to write an accompanying fic for their work. i attached some of the comic here in an attempt to entice you to look at their comic (well? are you enticed?!), but if you wanna see the full thing, please do give their art a like, a retweet, a comment, and all the love on twitter! fic screenshots below:

misc commentary/musings under the cut :)

the way i wrote feenie inner monologue and narration parallels my informal writing style, so writing his freak outs weren't challenging. consciously changing sentence structures/verbiage to be more or less extra, on the other hand, totally was.

the bulk of my pain came from writing fluff in the first place, stumbling through dialogue exchanges (as always), and attempting larry dialogue...all of which i honestly think i failed at pretty badly HAHA. who cares tho? it's my work!

bratfeen is one of my favorite narumitsu "eras" if you will. i've always wanted to write them. i didn't know the opportunity would come so soon (and at my expense considering i still have a zine fic to finalize for a diff fandom), but i took the shot. the full fic was written over the course of a day which i do not recommend anyone experience. i was on a writing hiatus for months and wrote 8k words as soon as i came back. do you see why i burnt out in the first place?

the easiest part about writing bratfeen is that none of the things i write are exaggerated for the purpose of carrying the plot forward. feenie believing that bratworth is better of a human being than everyone makes him out to be? sounds about right. feenie insisting to others that miles is the best thing since grilled cheese? his raging savior complex says that's likely to occur. feenie fumbling the bag because he thinks miles is the prettiest thing he's ever seen? yeah, 20 y/o feenie would! feenie shoving the asshole who talked shit abt miles? we saw the exact same thing with doug swallow (and we all know how that ended...). all of it is in line w his character. also miles being a try hard. that's a given.

i am hoping i can showcase more of my technical skill aka the angst writer in me with my next work, though i've been closely following fictober (haven't been publishing because, again, zine fic obligations) and have plenty of angsty fics stored in my drafts. i hope you enjoy my poor attempt at humor and fluff. may i muster the strength to finish the rest of my zine fic...please...

[pastlivesxpastlie]

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Things We Buried Low

Tags/Warnings/Head’s Up: Vessel x fem!reader, reader has tits and a pussy, gn pet names, newly established relationship, bit of a slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff that becomes smut, checking-in, fingering (f receiving), 69, cum swallowing (I don't shame but for sleep's sake don't do it if you don't want to or if you don't know their history)

A/N: this could be about anyone’s fav, but vessel is seriously my muse right now.

MDNI 18+

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“And who is this one about?” You ask softly as you look up from the leather bound journal. 

Vessel barely meets your gaze and sighs. The newness, and frankly, the rawness, of this relationship and your attraction to one another has reduced you both to nervous teenagers. But tonight isn’t one of those filled with soft giggles and kisses under the throw blankets on your couch; no, the evening has been spent sharing secrets…baring souls…revealing flaws. You know he’s hurt. You know there’s a past and an inner monologue behind those eyes you could never begin to imagine, but he said he wanted to let you in. So here you are…on his bed, cross-legged reading his poems and lyrics. Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Who it’s about…doesn’t matter much to me anymore. What matters is that I’ve left that part behind now. And that I’m here with you.” 

He locks eyes with you and caresses your cheek. You’ve learned to appreciate his vagueness, a stark contrast to your need to overshare. Before he pulled out his notebook, you had just finished telling him 5 years worth of trauma with tangents that made you both laugh and cry a little. You were embarrassed…but he held your hand the whole time…making contended hums when you’d remember something happy and then kissing your knuckles during the hard parts.

“Well,” you say putting the notebook on his nightstand, “it sounds like it was a difficult time.” You squeeze his hands in yours and take a deep breath. “I understand better why you…hesitate to open up. But…thank you for letting me in.” You lift his chin gently so he looks at you. The dim bedside lamp and filtered moonlight from the window cast long shadows on his features, but instead of tortured he looks ethereal. 

And in that moment…your breath catches. And so does his. Your thumb gently rubs his cheek until his lips part. Instinctively the pad of your thumb circles his pouty lips. It’s not overtly sexual. No. It’s reverent. At this point in your relationship you’ve only made out to the point of frenzy, grinding against each other and exchanging breathless sweet nothings between hot, soft kisses. 

“You’re safe with me, you know?” You whisper, you voice caught in your throat as your heart swells for the man before you.

His face finally betrays the emotion he’s been harboring. His breath shudders and he nods slowly…jaggedly, almost like he wants to balk at you. 

“Don’t take this wrong way, Ves, but…” you begin, but you’re distracted by his eyebrow cocking with some amusement. You chuckle softly and shake your head. “Just hear me out. Sometimes when we touch…you remind me of a stray…a rescue…who’s never felt a loving touch.”

“Am I that pathetic, little love?”

“Tsk. No. I just mean…”

“No, I understand. And…you’re right. To feel love…at least the love you give me…it chills me to the bone.” He gently tugs at your arm to pull you into his lap. You’ve never sat in his lap before and suddenly find yourself painfully aware of your weight. He sighs. “I want all of it.”

You relax just a bit more. Just a fraction.

“All. Of. It.” His spidery hands grasp your hips and presses your ass firmly onto his thighs. “If you are going to touch me…to pleasure me…to love me…I need it to the highest degree, darling. I crave everything you can give me.”

Of all the things that could be on your mind (like the heat forming in your center and rising into your belly, the way you’ve dreamt of being intimate with him, how delicious he looks right now, etc) what you’re focused on his word choice. What you “can” give. Not what you “will” give. He means to coax it all out of you. And you are beyond willing. But you know this is a big step so you broach your next words with tenderness.

“Ves, you set the pace, love. I don’t to overwhe—“ your lips are suddenly trapped against his. One hand holds the back of your head and begins to grasp at handfuls of your soft hair while the other gently guides your ass to grind in his lap. Eventually he pulls you away from the kiss by the nape of your neck.

“You’re so kind, little love, to want to protect me. But after tonight, I don’t want a fragment of dignity between us.”

With that he moves swiftly to pin you on your back. His lips find the crook of your neck…where your pulse and natural scent is the strongest. “So warm. So soft. Baby…” Wet, open mouthed kiss cover your neck and throat. You writhe underneath him, already surrendering to his need and affections. 

His kisses are rough and feverish. He’s been starved of this. There’s no denying it. His lithe waist presses you firmly into the bed…and for the first time you feel his bulge against you. You have done this to him. You have driven this man to near madness as he works quickly to remove your shirt. Gazing down at your naked torso for the first time, he lets his warm, skilled hands trail over your body with reverence. 

“Is this mine?” He asks, his eyes glued to your stiffening nipples as he gently cups your breasts. 

Your breath catches. “Body. Mind. Soul. Flesh. Blood. …it can all be yours, Ves.”

With that he presses his face into your breasts and peppers wet kisses and small nibbles along your soft mounds. You whine softly as his nose gently nuzzles one of your nipples.

“Please….” He whispers. “Please?”

You nod with wide eyes. He started so confident, so aggressive, but now he was begging for permission just to suckle from you. 

Pathetic moans fall from his pretty mouth as his kitten licks and soft kisses cover your nipples. “Love…my god…” His hand trails down under your shorts. “May I? Please?”

Your breath shudders with a sharp moan. He isn’t even touching your pussy yet, but it clinches as if he’s already bottomed out inside you. 

“Love…may I? Yes or no?”

You find your voice and push his hand to your throbbing clit… “yes.”

He lets out a deep, satisfied groan as his index and middle finger scissor your sensitive bud. You let out a slutty yelp as his firm fingers work to, basically, jack off your clit. 

“Fffffuck….oh my god…Ves…” you bite your lip and a shrill, pathetic moan cuts through the darkness of his bedroom. 

“Oooh…look at you, little love. Eager for my touch. Eager for my fingers,” he coos as he looks down at you with reverence and lust. “But what if…what if I…ahh…” he leaves you hanging momentarily and then presses his fingers firmly on your clit, massaging in big, slow circle. You hold onto his shoulders as your mouth clamps shut and your eyes cross from pleasure. You imagine you look like a dumb little slut but you wouldn’t know from how Vessel is looking at you. His eyes trail down you like you’re a work of art. Marble carved for him to touch. To taste. To behold. “Don’t you dare close that perfect mouth. Let me hear you.”

“Vessel…please. Please I need you.”

“Darling…am I not knuckle deep in you?” You look at him confused for a second but then he plunges his middle finger into your heat. The pad of his finger explores your wet, gummy insides and settles happily on your sweet spot. “Do I not have you already gushing on my hand?”

Oh how he teases you… You whine and a hot blush covers your cheeks as you realize you have to verbalize your fantasy. “I want your mouth.”

A dark look crosses his face. “Then we have something in common.”

He takes his finger from your cunt and brings it to his mouth. You watch, mouth agape and eyes glazed over, as he cleans your essence from his digit. You’re still watching him with a lovesick gaze as he stands up and removes his clothes. You’ve felt his abs through his clothes, but seeing them in the flesh is a revelation. You imagine kissing his stomach. Grinding your needy cunt along it. But it’s not until you see his cock for the first time that you feel a ravenous desire propelling you forward. You roll to the edge of the bed closest to him, looking up at him, asking for a treat. He chuckles and caresses your face, saying, “if I’ve been starved of loving touch…then you, my dear, are starved for cock.” 

You bite your lip and lean closer, hoping for a taste, before he holds your jaw, making your lips pucker. “Did I say I was ready for that,” he asks with dry condescension, “greedy fairy.”

You pout and roll ever to let him lay back on the bed. He makes himself comfortable, and you slip off your shorts and panties. He licks his lips as you strip—seeing your soft, squishy parts for the first time. “Fuck,” he whispers emphatically. 

He beckons you toward him, mimicking the same finger motion he did inside you moments ago. “Have a seat.” You prepare to swing your leg over his hips but he stops you. 

“Ah ah ah… how can I taste you if your cunt is down there?”

Loud and clear. You move slowly, your waist level with his face now; he nods and motions for you to turn. He wants your back to him. He wants your mouth taking his cock while he makes out with your perfect, squishy pussy. You settle with your thighs around his pretty face. You can hear him whispering praises and expletives as he kisses and nips at your thighs. “Ves…”

He stops suddenly, worried that he’s somehow upset you. “Yeah, love? Is everything ok?”

You chuckle softly at his concern and lean down on his body…your hand magnetized to his twitching, desperate cock. “Everything is perfect. I just…”  You want to finish your sentence but he’s already lapping at your folds. “Fuck…fuck oh my god…”

Your hand pumps his length as he lifts his head to bury his face in your pussy. He doesn’t even have to push your hips further into his face because they’re moving on their own. You find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to take his cock between your plush lips. He moans raggedly as his tongue fucks your tight hole, your slickness marking his face as yours. The feeling of his warm body against your curves and breasts encourages you to take his cock deeper into your mouth, the head gently grazing the back of your throat. 

For the first time in ages, your brain is empty. The only thing you know is giving Vessel pleasure and receiving it in turn. Your hips move to grind your clit harder on his tongue, a movement he not only loves but also encourages. The friction from his mouth is made infinitely more delicious as his moans reverberate against your cunt like a human vibrator. You disengage your mouth from his cock and let a long stream of spit fall onto its throbbing head. As you take it in your hand and fuck it the way you dream of riding him, you hear his moans turn into the prettiest whimpers and whines. You're encouraged by his noises…empowered. 

“That’s right sweet boy…you like getting stroked with a pussy on your face? Hmm? Is that good?”

You could swear he’s crying at this point. He has his arms wrapped your hips and his mouth stuck to your wet cunt. You laugh softly as imagine your lower half is a pillow and he’s screaming in it. “Oooh,” you coo “he's just so excited.”

Your teasing gets to him. He bucks into your hand and lets out a feral groan as he takes your clit in his mouth and sucks like his life depends on your orgasm showering his face. You let out a shriek in surprise and pleasure. “FUUUUCCKKKK. Aahhhhhhh yes….that’s a good boy. Fuck yes…make me cum…”

He whines back at you, hips bucking wildly, desperate to feel your warm mouth around his cock once more. You let another stream of spit glaze his cock before taking it whole and letting him fuck your throat as he sucks your tender clit. Just when you think you’ve gotten ahold of yourself, he lets a finger trace your entrance. The gentle tickle and pleasure pushes you over. You’re not surprised that something so small made you cum. You just knew he’d have that effect on you. 

You moan loudly around his cock as your pussy throbs and clenches out a powerful, toe curling orgasm. His own moans sound gravely and crackly. Just then, his hips buck, and you feel the hot stream of his cum fill your mouth. Oh to have his spunk in your mouth. Oh to taste his essence just as he tasted yours. You pull off and swallow thickly. Swinging your leg over, you lay your head on his stomach and look up at him.

“Love…little fairy…I am…so sorry for just…right in your mouth…”

You wipe the corner of your mouth, nary a mess to be found. “It was an honor.”

He chuckles softly and closes his eyes. “You’re both the death of me and my reason for living.”

His verbose description, even after cumming his heart out, makes you smile. You lean up and pepper sweet kisses on cheek.

“You know what I think?”

“Hmm?” He answers sleepily.

“We should see if any pizza places are still delivering…and curl up on the couch.”

He looks at you with hazy eyes. Finally…he feels at home. At peace. Safe.  

[cosmicatta]

One Piece Novel: Law — a short analysis

So, after a long time trying to get my hands on the Law light novel, I was finally able to read it recently! And, because I'm an obnoxiously intense person who can't just be normal about things, I found myself taking notes about everything I judged interesting.

And I thought I could share! So here's a mostly improvised essay about the Law novel, how it portrays Law and what it reveals about him as a character.

Some notes before I start:

The edition I've read of this novel is the official Spanish translation by Planeta. When quoting and mentioning numbered pages, I'm referencing that edition.

I originally posted this on Twitter as a thread! If it sounds familiar, that might be why.

For those who haven't read the novel and might want to: be mindful of some trigger warnings, including gruesome medical descriptions, suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse, and violence in general (I won't be touching on these subjects here though).

These are just my personal impressions, I'm not trying to tell anyone how they should interpret the novel or Law's character. I'm just doing this for fun!

The story takes place right after Cora dies, following young Law's journey as he makes it to Swallow Island and desperately tries to survive. There, he will meet Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, as well as Wolf, a novel-exclusive character that welcomes Law and the boys into his home as a family.

Overall, it's a very short read, agile and straightforward. The style is very juvenile, but that was to be expected, and I'd say it does a pretty good job at capturing the feeling of watching a One Piece episode. The novel does kinda feel like a mini arc.

I'm unsure if light novels can be considered 100% canon in general, but since the contents don't contradict anything from what we've already seen in the manga/anime, I'm going to assume we can at least take the events described in this one as canon.

But I'll leave the plot aside a little bit to focus more on Law's psyche, analyzing everything in the novel as material that helps us further understand him.

The entire book (save from a few specific passages) is written from Law's point of view and in first person, so it offers a more in-depth look at his way of thinking, motivations and ideals.

What I find most interesting in this sense is that the whole story is very centered around Law's kindness. Though he does admit several times that he had wanted to see the world burn when he was under Doflamingo's care (as we already know from the source material), the novel makes it very obvious that Law's true nature is compassionate. His inner voice even explicitly states that he enjoys helping and making others happy. (Quotes roughly translated from Spanish):

P. 27: "And I felt very comfortable collaborating with the task of helping others."

P. 92: "Knowing that I was going to free a person from their pain [...] gave me a joy I had never experienced before."

P. 136: "Just imagining the surprised faces of the Old Man, Bepo and the others brought a smile to my face" [when planning on getting fresh fish for dinner as a surprise].

And, despite living under Wolf's motto of "give to take," Law never expects anything in return for any of his good actions. In fact, he gets furious at Wolf himself when, after saving his life, the old man insists on giving Law anything he demands as compensation.

P. 120: "I didn't save you because I wanted a reward!" [...] They [Bepo, Shachi and Penguin] burst into tears of happiness when they realized that you had survived. That's more than enough for me! [...]" I won't let you belittle their tears!"

But even then, Law keeps arguing that he only saved Wolf "on a whim," much like he would say years later when asked why he chose to save Luffy's life. This is a common theme throughout the whole book (which is also pretty obvious in the manga)—Law doesn't recognize his own kindness.

It's not modesty or shyness, his inner monologue makes it very clear that he doesn't see himself as good-natured, and is often confused at his own motivations.

In their first meeting, when Bepo asks him why he is so nice to him, Law doesn't know what to answer; and after that, when Law finds himself wondering why he's trying so hard to save Shachi and Penguin despite their past history, he blames it all on "doctor's pride."

P. 48: "I wasn't even a good person."

Still, regardless of what Law might think of himself, living in Swallow Island seems to be making him progressively gentler. He was wary and hostile towards Wolf at first, but eventually lets himself trust people again, trying to honor Cora's memory and what he taught Law.

In Swallow Island he builds his new found family little by little, though never letting go of Cora and what he meant to Law.

P. 39: "Cora and I were family, that's what I felt at heart, I had no doubts. We had loved each other without saying it out loud [...] Would I feel the same for the Old Man and Bepo eventually?"

Slowly, he starts finding comfort and joy in community. He lets himself be carefree around his new friends, treating them with open affection, laughing and being surprisingly enthusiastic (although he quickly starts taking his role as a leader very seriously, and sometimes avoids showing weakness around them so as not to worry them.)

Law even gets to become an active part of life in Pleasure Town, where he and the other boys are cherished after 3 years living and working there. He's comfortable with his role in the community and appreciates the people in town. His sense of duty towards them shines especially when the pirates arrive to attack the town.

Again, this contrasts with how Law sees himself even in the manga/anime, where he insists that he acts mostly out of selfishness and only seeking his own benefit (or, in the best of cases "on a whim.")

But the truth is that Law's decisions are almost always related to other people's desires.

In this sense, the concept of guilt is also key to understand Law's motivations and his relationship with the world as a whole. This is especially obvious when it comes to Cora—Law even briefly wishes that they had never met, so that Cora would still be alive (p. 128-129.)

In a way, guilt is what moves Law forward, and what slowly starts transforming into a thirst for revenge, into rage and hatred towards Doflamingo and possibly towards himself too. It's a kind of tragic guilt born out of love.

His love for Cora still haunts him, his last wish for Law is the big enigma that he tries to solve during his 3 years in Swallow Island: be free. What is freedom to Law? How can he fulfill Cora's request? This is the question that gives meaning to the novel.

We know that Law wouldn't feel free until finally taking down Doflamingo and avenging Cora's death many years later, but he hasn't reached that point of determination in the novel yet. Maybe that's what gives the narration that hopeful and optimistic tone, with a young Law that's still finding himself, experiencing wonder in loving again, and learning what it means for him to be true to his values. It's the start of an adventure, and its core theme is love.

The ending illustrates this very well; I especially like the moment where Law names the crew as they're setting sail:

P. 243: "Cora's love that he showed me, Wolf's affection, the trust I had in my companions. One word embodied it all: Heart."

It is love that gives Law a reason to keep going. And I'm so glad that the novel doesn't shy away from this fact and isn't afraid of sounding "sappy" or "corny," because I do believe emotion is a very important part of Law's character.

The epilogue closes with a very interesting quote in the last page:

"You hear that, Cora? This is my... This is our pirate crew."

It is unclear if by "our" he is referring to himself and Cora, as if dedicating this new beginning to him, or if he means him and his crew. I'd personally like to think he means it both ways. But in any case, it's interesting that he openly shares the honor of "owning" his crew with someone else. He is the captain, but not the owner. It's another little way in which his generosity is evidenced.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable read, and it left me wanting more. Obviously, it's not a literature masterpiece, but it gives a lot of interesting material for character analysis, which is super fun.

Finally, here’s a few fun facts for those who can’t/don’t want to read the novel but enjoy the little trivia:

The Polar Tang was built and designed by Wolf.

Law’s first tattoo was "DEATH," and he got it at a local tattoo shop in Pleasure Town at around 15 years old.

Shachi and Penguin are childhood friends and likely met through their parents.

Shachi had always wanted to be a hair stylist.

Law is bad at cooking.

Both Shachi and Penguin are good at cooking, especially Penguin, who worked as a waiter in Pleasure Town.

The Hearts’ jolly roger was collectively designed by Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin days before leaving Swallow Island.

Law decided the name of their crew upon setting sail for the first time.

And I think that's all! ♥ I hope my rambling was enjoyable at least!

Edit: I've now posted an analysis of the Ace novels too!

[erinwantstowrite]

any writing tips for how to write efficiently/quickly while not making the stuff you write shitty as a result?

this is a pretty open ended question, because there are a lot of factors to writing and it's not a simple answer (when is anything ever simple on my page lmfao?)

what you're feeling:

it mostly matters what headspace you're in. i say it a lot, but mindset is the most important part of the writing process. for multiple reasons!

if you're going into a writing session while feeling tired or angry about something, you will often make mistakes. it's important to write while you're feeling pretty good (this is nuanced as some people prefer to write when upset/angry, or have no choice if they're trying to get their final papers done in an academic setting). you'll find yourself editing a lot more if you wrote it while tired, so if you can, start off feeling good. this will also increase your writing speed because you're starting off with a fresh mind.

so that means to take breaks. which sounds counterproductive, but hear me out!

just like when you're studying, you have to take some brain breaks. you'll get way too caught up in stuff/will get tired/will get upset with what you're writing/etc etc etc. there's a lot of reasons. so every 30 minutes or so, take a break. go watch a youtube video, or walk around your house, whatever clears your mind of your writing. when you come back to it, you'll have a fresher mind. not as fresh as the start of your time, but still better than if you kept burning yourself out while trying to push through it

though if you're like me and you get distracted if you leave a room or change a tab: just pull up a different writing tab and work on a different project for a few minutes. set a timer. or don't leave the room, and just do some stretches or jumping jacks

2. fundamentals

i wish i could give a cheat code, but there isn't one. it takes a lot of practice to be able to write quickly/efficiently. the best way i can describe it is like another trade: an artist or musician that has already mastered their fundamentals will be able to sight read a piece or sketch a figure drawing in under a minute, and have the quality of the art turn out well.

if you haven't mastered your fundamentals and you try to speed run it, your writing quality will go down. you'll miss simple spelling or grammar mistakes (one or two is fine, but it can become a problem), you might get very short or clipped sentences that read out as play directions rather than an internal dialogue or interesting narration (example: "She picked up the glass and took a sip." VS "Her long, red nails clink on the glass when she picks up the champagne offered to her. She takes a long sip of her drink, her clinical gaze sweeping over the partygoers. She doesn't leave a lipstick stain on the glass, but her companion does.")

(though, sometimes they really did just take a sip of their drink. it depends on the impact you want that action to have.)

your writing speed will naturally progress as you pick up these fundamentals. so practice makes perfect!

3. Awareness

being aware of what you're writing while you're writing is a big one. i'm guilty of the play directions too. and while i have a beta reader (hey bestie), i don't want to slow myself down. so i often remind myself of my fundamentals as i'm going, not afterwards. to help myself there, i pause while writing to read what i have written out loud. i try to make sure that what i have written is easy to say out loud, which in turn makes it far easier to read. and i try to make sure the inner voice makes sense as well. if i'm writing damian, i try to speak the words in his intonation. same with peter, who has a very different internal monologue. it will point out mistakes to me. like "oh he would never say that/he wouldn't say it that way")

editing while you go is also important. sometimes i write a few paragraphs, then go back to the start of the segment i just wrote, and then read it out loud. the editing will come out as i do so, because i will notice mistakes that i wouldn't have otherwise. in turn, the editing often makes paragraphs longer. (or shorter, in some cases! often times, writing is like "i really wanted that to be said, but it's kind of redundant and adds nothing" and so things get scrapped.)

if it's an academic paper you're writing for, put yourself in the shoes of a presenter. imagine that you've already written this paper and studied it a million times before, and now is the time that you are reading your paper for classmates or a professor or someone who wants to read your research. it'll put you in a more critical mindset of "oh that doesn't make sense when i say it to someone else" or "that's not true" or even "whoa, that sounded really smart."

same goes if you're writing for entertainment purposes. if you're writing horror, then you're telling the story as someone who experienced the horror itself or at a campfire trying to scare your friends. if you're writing fantasy, then you really got to put yourself in the shoes of your narrator. this might bring to your attention "wait, how tf are their feet not hurting for walking as long as they have."

(which goes back to mindset!!)

4. planning

have as much planned out before you write as you can... and also do not go strictly with what you're planning

that sounds like i'm being contradictory again but it's like this: i have an overarching outline for my story, so i know what goals need to be met. then, you plan chapter by chapter. some goals NEED to be met in certain places... and they will have a domino effect to your outline. you'll get to a previously established goal and realize that it doesn't fit at all anymore. and this can even happen for your chapter outlines!

(this post here has some tips about if you're struggling while writing a chapter)

essentially, you gotta be adaptable. you need a map to guide you before you start going off on different paths. it'll cut down a lot of your writing time if you're going into a writing session aware of what your goals are.

and so, we get to the end of this post that wasn't meant to be this long. story of my life. i hope this helps/makes sense? this is what helped me write faster/more in depth. i learned tips and tricks by practicing and keeping a critical eye on my work. and sometimes the tricks and tips are more geared towards my own brain and how to get around things

(like learning that art block just means you're improving, and so you should do some studies of your favorite artists and anatomy, and go back to those fundamentals, so you can play around with them)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 23

Day Twenty-Two | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Four

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Dirty talk; vaginal sex; cunnilingus; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie; breeding kink

“How do you do that?” 

You frown at his question. You turn from where you’ve scooched to the end of his bed, arching a brow. 

“Do what?” 

Jonathan pushes himself to sit up, smoothing a hand through his curls and taking his glasses up from the bedside table. He puts them on, adjusting them as he gets a better look at you. 

“Talk…Like that," He clarifies.

“Like...? Dirty talk?”

“Yeah.” 

Your brow furrows as you think for a moment, then turn away, taking up your pants where they’d been dropped on the floor.

“I dunno,” You shrug, standing and tugging your pants up. “I just talk.”

“You never practiced?”

“Like in the mirror?” You chuckle, grabbing your bra next. “Like, beta-tested what sounded good?” 

“You could.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“So?”

You consider it as you look around for where your shirt had been flung.

“How do you think when you’re having sex?” You bat back.

“What?” 

“When you’re having sex, what’s going through your head?”

You finally spot your shirt hanging off of a potted plant. You walk over to it, plucking it off of the plant, shaking it out. You turn back to Jonathan, grinning when you find his face twisted in thought, his brow furrowed.

“Do you think, ah yes, and now I’m going to insert my penis into her vaginal cavity?” You ask, mimicking his voice. He splutters a laugh, ducking his head and adjusting his glasses as his cheeks go pink. “You don’t right? You think, I wanna fuck her pussy.” You tug your shirt down over your head, straightening it. “At least, I hope you do.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“What’s your inner-monologue sound like?” You plant your hands on your hips as you watch Jonathan’s expression shift from curiosity to bashful nerves. You can’t help the softening of his smile, or the way he scrubs his hand across his mouth in thought. 

“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” You add, crawling onto the bed on all fours. “And for the record, you don’t have to talk dirty if you don’t want to.” You reach up, cupping his rough jaw. “Just because you’ve been on the quiet side doesn’t mean that I’ve doubted whether or not you're enjoying yourself.” You lean in, pressing your lips tenderly to his, grinning as you feel his lips turning up in a smile. You peck his lips, draw back, then lean in for another peck as his hand comes up to try and grasp your shirt. 

“Okay,” You mumble, scooching back off of the bed. “Okay—I have to go. I’m gonna be late for class.”

“You’re teaching today?”

“Giving an exam.”

“Wait, lemme—”

You watch, amused, as Jonathan pushes the covers back and scooches bare-assed across the sheets, offering, “Your sweater is wrinkled.”

“Of course it is. It took a nap on the ficus.” 

“That’s a snake plant.” 

“I have a spare shirt hanging up in my office, don’t worry about it. You have Ava tonight?” 

“No.”

“Okay.”

“You coming back?”

“You cooking?” 

“I could.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You chuckle. “I’ll grab takeout on the way.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. Text me what you want.” 

“Okay.”

You dip your head, pressing another kiss to Jonathan’s lips before you turn, heading to the front hall for your shoes and socks. 

–

You frown when your phone buzzes. You slide it off of the desk, peering down at the screen and biting back a smile when you see Jonathan’s text: 

I don’t always think that I wanna fuck your pussy

I mean I always want to, but that’s not how it goes through my head 

You glance up, gaze sweeping the testing students before hurriedly typing:

What does go through it, then? 

It depends on what we’re doing. 

You bite your lip for just a moment, thinking. Before you can answer, your phone buzzes with another text:

Eggplant parmesan 

You only just manage not to snort a laugh. 

Hero or platter? 

Hero

You need a hero? You’re holding out for a hero til the end of the night? 

??

I thought you were coming back right after class

It’s a song

never mind  

I don’t think I know that one

That has become increasingly evident

– 

On the surface, it’s a little surprising, but maybe it’s not so strange that Jonathan has asked you about dirty talk, or that he’s thinking about it. The separation isn’t so new, and while Mira is still a raw subject for him, you’ve been more than happy to help Jonathan explore a little. 

He doesn’t always come right out with it like he had that morning—he doesn’t always just ask. Sometimes, he has to work up to it, or you have to tease it out of him. You don’t mind. You know that he’s not making it a guessing game on purpose. 

You look at Jonathan across his dinner table, smiling as you catch him sucking sauce off of his thumb. His gaze flickers to yours, lips pulling into a wider smile when he catches you looking. 

“I looked up that song,” He says. 

“Oh yeah? You like it?” 

“I didn’t realize it was in Shrek 2.” 

“I can’t believe you’ve seen Shrek 2.”

“Ava watched it once or twice.” 

“Ah. Makes sense.” You look down at your food, poking at it with your fork for a moment. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You offer after a moment. 

“Talk about what?” 

“About what I say when we fuck.” You smile wickedly as Jonathan splutters into his glass of wine. He clears his throat, giving a small shake of his head as if that’ll help clear it. You rest your chin on your hand, waiting patiently as Jonathan leans back in his seat, adjusting his glasses. 

“Uh…” 

“We don’t have to,” You tack on. 

“No, I know. I know.” He meets and holds your gaze for a moment. “Is it just like…A stream of consciousness for you?” 

“Sometimes,” You nod, “I mean…Well, most of the time. But occasionally I’ll work in a phrase or two because you seem to like it.” 

“Like what?” 

“Mmm…” You trail off, eyes flicking to the ceiling as you think about it. “Stuff like…You feel so fucking good…Your cock is so thick…I don’t know, sometimes I use this tone that you seem to be into.” 

“Can you demonstrate it?” 

“I don’t want you to get hard before we’ve done the dishes. Might turn around to find you humping the counter.” 

“Okay,” Jonathan chuckles, scrubbing his hand over his flushing cheeks. You grin, pushing your chair back and rounding to the sink to set your empty dishes down. 

“Want some more wine?” You ask. 

“Uh—Sure, thanks.” 

You take up the bottle from the counter, bracing your hand on the back of his chair and murmuring your thanks as he sets his hand on the stem of the glass to hold it steady. You lean over him, purposefully letting your shirt slip down. You bite back a smile as you feel Jonathan glance surreptitiously in your direction. You swipe your tongue along your lips, glancing toward the wine glass to ensure you don’t spill. 

“Just like that?” You murmur, using the tone that Jonathan always seems to be melted by. You grin as his hand twitches, a few of the drops sloshing over onto his fingers. You chuckle softly, straightening and setting the bottle of wine aside. 

“That’s the tone,” He mutters. 

“Yes it is,” You smile smugly, rounding the table and sitting back down. 

--  

You roll your hips down against Jonathan’s, shivering as his beard rasps against your neck. 

You really did settle in with the intention of watching a movie (a book you’ve given your students to read that was recently re-adapted—you want to be able to spot any inconsistencies between the book’s content and the movie’s). You’ve managed to make it about halfway through, but you’ve gotten a little…Distracted. 

Jonathan had started it. Well, he’s made a comment a time or two that he’s working on that, that he wants to be the one to make overtures. You don’t mind—hell, you approve. It’s thrilling to feel him smooth his hand up your thigh, for him to dip his head and press a kiss to your jaw. He dips his fingers between your thighs, leaving you with no doubt of his intentions. Now, you part your lips in a moan as Jonathan’s tongue sweeps across yours. You let your eyes slide closed, your fingers slipping up into his hair as he breaks the kiss with a slick suck, drawing his mouth away. He turns his head, beard roughly brushing your cheek. 

“I wanna fuck you.” 

Your jaw drops as you suck pull in a shocked little breath. Those four little words from that warm, husky voice are a shock to the system. It’s like the firing of a starting pistol, the first punch thrown in the name of the revolution. Your grip tightens on his hair, holding his head prone as you tip your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with want, but you can see the spark of flighty nerves there. You brush your lips against his, murmuring, “Then fuck me, Levy.” 

--  

You’re undressed by the time the two of you reach his bedroom. He’s nearly there—shirtless, with his pants and underwear nearly tripping him up as you scooch back onto his bed. You watch him tug the offending garments down, and he drops to his knees so suddenly that you think he’s fallen. Instead, he grasps your hips, yanking you to the edge of the bed before he buries his face between your thighs. You groan at the feeling of his beard raking across your sensitive flesh before his tongue lashes across your clit. You reach down, running your fingers through his mussed curls as you let your thighs splay. You raise your other hand, groping and thumbing your nipples as your hips roll down against his desperate lips. 

Jonathan smooths a hand along your inner thigh before teasing his finger over your opening. He eases it inside as he lifts his chin, his tongue sweeping across your clit on the upstroke. 

“You taste so fucking good,” He groans, pumping his finger in shallowly before twisting and curling it.

“You make me wet, Jonathan,” You murmur, squeezing down around his finger. “I love how your beard feels—Oh,” You sigh watching Jonathan brush his beard against your thigh as he eases in another finger. “You always know what I need, don’t you…You take such good care of me.”

Jonathan groans against you, sucking a messy kiss to your cunt as he thrusts his fingers into you. You can feel the familiar pressure building, and you reach down, curling your fingers around his wrist to still him. 

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” You remind him haughtily. He turns his head, biting your inner thigh harshly, holding your thighs lightly as you jump slightly at the sting. He laps across the skin before he rises, shoving your legs wide. He plunges into you with a single stroke, and your mouth falls open, stunned at the sudden shift. 

“So impatient,” He barks as he grinds his hips forward. “I should’ve made you beg.” 

You whine, raising your hands and grasping his arms as he braces his hands on the bed. 

“I need you to trust me,” He adds, gaze heavy on yours. 

“I do—oh, god, I do, Jonathan.” 

“Yeah? Trust me to take care of you? To give you—nngh,” He pushes out a snarl, “Give you what you need?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to make me cum, Jonathan.”

“Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—”

“Fuck a baby into you?”

Your jaw drops as his grasp on you tightens, his hips sawing more harshly, the sound of your slapping flesh filling the room. Your cunt clutches at him, your nails sinking into his muscles. 

“You want that?” You ask, breath catching in your throat as he bows closer.

“I want it,” He groans against your neck, knees digging into the mattress. “I want you round with my child. I want—Fuck—I want you full of my seed, I want you covered in it.”

“Oh, my god,” You whimper, fisting your hand in his hair as your chest presses up against his.

“Your p-pussy—” He nearly trips over the word, “Feels so—Mm, so fucking good…”

“Yes,” You breathe. “Jonathan, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, mhm. I wanna cum.”

“Say please.”

“Please,” You lower your hand, grasping his ass and tugging him closer. “Please let me cum, Joanthan—Oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” You gasp as your press up into his thrusts, chasing your orgasm as it swells and washes over you. 

You peer up at Jonathan and find him watching you, his lips parted with a lusty moan as he cums. His hips pump sharply as he fills you, his hands digging into your thighs as if he needs to keep you there. It’s another moment before he pulls out, flopping onto the bed beside you. His arm curls around your middle, his face pressing into your shoulder as he draws in deep, steadying breaths. You raise your hand, combing gently through his greying curls as the two of you come down together. 

"...Any notes?" He mumbles bashfully after a few moments. You shake your head, gaze trained on the ceiling.

"Honestly, Levy? Not one."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @shanimallina87 ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember Day 11: Attitude Adjustment/IQ Reduced

It was like she couldn't get the words out fast enough. "And I have 6 discharges tomorrow with no follow up scheduled yet and I haven't even been able to contact some of the families and..."

"Is there anything you can do about any of that tonight?" he asked her, gently stopping the torrent of her work recap.

"No. But! I still need to eat dinner. And wash some clothes for tomorrow. And make sure the kids are ok...."

"Shh," he said comfortingly. "I've already washed and folded the clothes. And I told the kids mommy was working late so they're already asleep. You're done for the day."

She sighed deeply.

He put his hand on her cheek, gently moving her head so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Relaaaax," he said, stretching the word out meaningfully. His tone shifted too, to something deep and steady. "You're home. You're safe. Just relax, now."

It had been a while since she heard him speak like this. She missed it.

Too bad it wouldn't work. She was way too stressed. She almost felt herself get caught in his gaze for a moment but- then her anxiety rushed back in, like a wave crashing over a too-short wall.

His hand moved around to rub the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just so stressed I can't THINK it's like I try and it's just STATIC in my head. I sat in the parking lot for 5 minutes before I could even make myself drive home."

"Mmmmm," he murmured, still rubbing her neck. "Breathe, honey."

He breathed in and out slowly to demonstrate. She found herself following along, taking a few deep breaths before even thinking about it. Between the breathing and his light neck massage, she was beginning to feel better.

He made sure he had her gaze before offering- "If you want, I could make things simpler for you for a bit. Would you like that?"

A shiver ran through her at the sound of her old trigger- "simpler". It had been some time since they had done this but they both understood what he was offering. Would it still work?

She nodded her head but didn't want to disappoint him or herself- not after so long.

"I want to? But I honestly don't know how I'll respond," she said, "I can barely concentrate right now."

But even as she was protesting, she found herself automatically following his hand as it floated just above her forehead. Another of their old signals, this one nonverbal: "Pay attention".

She did.

His fingers came closer and closer to her forehead before finally touching, rubbing a small spiral right in the middle.

"Shhhhh...." his voice soothed.

Something inside her shifted.

It wasn't a quick, profound drop like she had experienced in the past but- she found herself instinctively closing her eyes anyway. When she did, the noise in her head seemed to quiet down automatically.

"Good," he said. "That's perfect. You remember just how to do this, don't you? I know you do. It's like riding a bicycle - part of you never forgets."

"I know you talked about having static in your head- but maybe we can use that to help you let go a bit more. Static doesn't have to be harsh, you know. Maybe your static is like- a white noise generator, blocking anything unnecessary out. Quiet and soothing. Like the one you listen to when you go to sleep. Just- think of that gentle static playing while you sleep. Helping you rest. You can notice it- and then you can let it all fade into the background. It just makes everything quieter, doesn't it? Simpler. "

She nodded her head, easily caught in his instructions. The shudder that went through her at the trigger felt more profound this time.

Simpler.

She remembered the old imagery they had worked on- the wheels of the clockwork of her thoughts slowing. Slowing. Grinding to a halt.

As she pictured those slowing gears, she could feel her inner monologue growing distant and dreamlike. Her awareness moved from her lumbering thoughts to her body- almost like her mind itself had moved from her head to somewhere in her chest. Her senses began heightening and she was drawn more and more to what the room smelled like, how the carpet felt, the gentle sound of the ceiling fan. She found herself getting lost in a world of sensation.

"That's good, honey," he encouraged. "You don't need to think right now. I've got all your bigger thoughts for safekeeping. You remember how to be simpler for me, don't you? No big words, no big thoughts. Just how you feel in this moment. OK?"

She nodded. It was the easiest way to communicate now. She still had some words but- it was easier not to use them when she was simpler. She trusted him to understand what she needed without bothering to speak.

"Good. Can you open your eyes for me?"

She did.

"How does your body feel right now?" he asked.

She checked- mentally scanning herself from head to toe.

"Tired," she replied eventually. "Hungry."

She looked up at him.

"Do you want some food?"

It took her a few moments to contemplate the thought before she eventually replied with a simple: "Yes".

He smiled at her in a way that might have struck her as patronizing at a different time.

His smile caused an unexpected spike in another sensation- one that had been hiding underneath all of her stress all along.

Until now.

"I'm going to warm dinner up- we'll have it here," he was saying. "I'll be right back."

"Wait!" she cried, suddenly.

He stopped and turned back, curiously.

Now she needed to find words again.

Her brows crossed as she tuned into her body in that slow, deep way that came with this state. There was a heat between her legs that spread upwards as she noticed it more thoroughly. She began to notice the feeling of the air on her arms and the slight way her bra rubbed against her breasts when she breathed. "Horny?" she said, finally finding the right word for how she was feeling.

He laughed. "Good girl. Yeah- that old conditioning is still working for you, huh? I bet you feel horny right now. Does it feel good?"

She nodded, that response coming much more quickly than most.

It DID feel good.

Without really thinking about it, her hands moved to her right breast, squeezing it.

THAT felt even better.

"Mmmm- I guess that's my answer then, huh?" he asked. "Tell you what- you need to eat before we do anything else. So- I'm going to go get the food. But while I'm doing that? You can touch yourself as much as you want. Do whatever feels good to your body, ok?"

She nodded again, barely paying attention to his words. Her hands moved all over her flesh as she caressed her newly sensitive skin rapturously. She wanted to touch everywhere.

"My only rule is that you don't come, ok? I want to save that for later."

She nodded absently, focused on a wonderful spot she had found on the side of her stomach. Part of her brain was receiving his instructions but- she didn't have to think about that part. She just had to focus on touching.

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "And stay nice and quiet while you touch, yeah? We don't want to wake anyone else up."

She nodded, biting back a moan as her hand finally slid to her pussy.

He looked on for a moment, seeming almost hypnotized himself by his writhing, almost animalistic wife.

Food first, he reminded himself.

Then sex.

Then putting a note in his phone to call the babysitter for her weekend availability. It had been FAR too long since they had played like this and next time?

He wanted her to be LOUD.

Tagging @mentat101posts @thekinkycocktailclub @jam-and-stuff

[socra-time]

Naruto Episode Comments, Ep. 1-20

(Context: I know a lot of the character’s names and some of the big plot points, but I’m going in blind otherwise)

Ep 1:

-Naruto is kinda annoying but also he’s just a lil gremlin and I can respect that

-I kinda love Iruka. Also he’s hot.

-”Clone jutsu? That’s my worst jutsu!” says Naruto, known for his Shadow Clone jutsu

-there’s just something so charming about the old anime style (but also some of the expressions are so goofy)

-HOLY SHIT IRUKA IS A REAL ONE

-I don’t trust the Hokage. I don’t really have a concrete reason for this yet, but his vibes are off

-oooh Irukaaaaa you’re so sexy for not being an asshole to the traumatized child

-oh I guess Shadow Clone jutsu is different from regular clones so disregard my earlier comment

-honestly this was a better first episode than I was expecting. I’m sold!

Ep 2:

-Naruto continues to be a lil gremlin

-Naruto pls for the love of god stop using your stupid ass “sexy jutsu”

-the Hokage really has had enough of these little kids and honestly I can’t even blame him

-I love the voice of Konohamaru’s trainer (I’m watching dub btw), it’s so pompous

-I love the ninja sandals. I want a pair.

-I like that Naruto’s voice actually sounds childish. It’s a tad bit grating sometimes but I think I’ll get used to it quickly

-STOP IT WITH THE SEXY JUTSU

-STOPPPPPP

-anyways #KonohamaruForHokage

Ep 3:

-again, the ninja sandals are so fucking drippy

-Ino wtf is up with your outfit. Why is half of it bandages

-the amount of sheer passive-aggressiveness in these 12 year old girls-

-Naruto has a crush on Sakura at first???? I didn’t know that lol

-Sasuke does not give a singular shit about anything other than his brooding and tbh I didn’t expect anything less

-Sakura’s little inner monologue is so feral lmao

-I don’t like Sasuke’s voice so far. It’s monotone, but not in an edgy way, just in a kinda dull way? Also he doesn’t really sound like a kid

-no hate to Shikamaru but his ponytail looks painful. My scalp hurts just looking at it

-oh my god not Sakura ragging on Naruto for being an orphan-

-lmao the amount of fucking drama with this team of kids is crazy

-why are the Hokage and Kakashi just casually breaking into Naruto’s home to look around

-rip Naruto’s bowels

Ep 4:

-I was not expecting Kakashi to sound like that but I’m kinda here for it actually

-oh I can already tell I’m gonna hate how the female characters are written in this show. Sakura honey I’m so sorry

-I know Sasuke’s got trauma or whatever but god he’s so fucking edgy. “I hate most things and I don’t like anything” bitch just say your favorite food or something

-oh my god Naruto is so tiny compared to Kakashi

-ok I already see why people love Kakashi so much

Ep 5:

-Kakashi is raining hell down on these children and I’m so here for it

-Kakashi is so COOL

-fucking “HEADHUNTER JUTSU” is the most metal name for a jutsu

-“you think like little kids” says Kakashi to the 12 year olds

-Kakashi really didn’t need to give his “you failed” monologue while pinning Sasuke to the ground. Bro was just doing it to assert dominance lmao

-I know that Sasuke’s reasoning for sharing is logical and not because he cares about Naruto, but I like that he offers his food to Naruto first

-aw the squad is starting to squad just a teeny tiny bit

Ep 6:

-booooo Naruto is a cat hater :(

-I love that Naruto is shorter than Sakura

-I like that we get some worldbuilding early on (also I’m a sucker for a good map so the scene explaining the different regions was cool)

-okay Sasuke is a badass

-Kakashi is also a badass but I already knew that

-I love how chill Kakashi is about literally everything

Ep 7:

-Kakashi is so over the bridge builder guy’s bullshit

-I do wish there was more of a sense of scale regarding how far apart the different locations are, since I have no idea how far away from Konoha the Land of Waves actually is

-okay I was NOT expecting Zabuza to fucking THROW HIS GIANT CLOUD STRIFE SWORD LIKE A BOOMERANG???

-Zabuza 🤝 Kakashi

not wearing their headbands correctly

-I like Zabuza’s voice

-the sharingan doesn’t make that much sense to me in terms of how it works but I’ll just chalk it up to anime logic

EP 8:

-oh the Water Prison jutsu is kinda terrifying to think about

-I can’t get over Zabuza’s fuckin armwarmer thingies

-ah yes gotta love the choppy old anime fight animation

-between Kakashi and Zabuza, Sasuke really cannot get a break from being pinned to the ground

-the demon wind shuriken is so sick-looking

-okay good on Naruto and Sasuke for working together but couldn’t they have given Sakura something to do

Ep 9:

-binging this makes the flashbacks at the beginning of episodes very annoying

-oh Kakashi is fucking PISSED

-shoutout to whoever animated all the hand signs for the jutsus holy shit

-yeah Kakashi would be so annoying to fight ngl

-Sakura is constantly calling Naruto out on his bullshit and that’s the kind of hater behavior I’m here for

-the soundtrack is hitting different this episode

-wow Naruto really saw another kid kill a man and got immediate imposter syndrome lmao

Ep 10:

-I like Haku’s painted nails

-aw Kakashi is actually a really encouraging teacher

-how is Naruto so bad with chakra control and yet was able to master Shadow Clone jutsu????

-Kakashi casually defying gravity to walk up a tree with his crutches was actually kinda hilarious to me for some reason

-I’m still not sold on Sasuke’s voice. There are moments when it’s fine but otherwise it’s just so stiff

-YAY FOR SAKURA GETTING A WIN OVER THE BOYS

-aw Naruto encouraging Sakura was cute (even though he was salty about her beating him)

-I like the difference that’s set up between having a lot of chakra (like Naruto) versus good chakra control (like Sakura)- hopefully this means people are going to go about how they train and fight differently

-Naruto asking Sakura for advice and asking her not to tell Sasuke anything was actually kinda endearing lol

Ep 11:

-dumb question maybe but if Gato is so against the bridge being built and he has the resources to hire a bunch of goons, why doesn’t he just bomb the bridge or something

-ah yes Sakura discovers poverty

-Sasuke is slowly growing on me. He’s very awkward

-Sakura I’m so sorry you have to deal with those two idiots as teammates

-holy fuck Inari’s backstory with Kaiza was darker than I thought it would be

-also rip Kaiza you were a real one

Ep 12:

-lmao not Naruto thinking Haku is prettier than Sakura fjfhshhajasisa-

-aw Sasuke helping Naruto walk home after training was nice, there’s definitely very slight development happening in their relationship as rivals

-Kakashi’s talk with Inari was a really nice moment

Ep 13:

-I like the way Haku talks. It’s very impassive and mysterious

-I’m always a fan of when the MC inspires literally everyone around them and Naruto is no exception

-Haku’s painted nails continue to slay (also I realized his toenails are painted too)

-the needles Haku fights with are really cool-looking but also seem really impractical

-YEAHHHHH NARUTO TIME

-aw Kakashi is proud of his kids

-goddamn Haku is so cool

Ep 14:

-I’m only thinking about this now but did Naruto never wonder why he had a big seal on his stomach

-literally half this episode was recap which was kinda annoying

-Naruto I love you but you’re so stupid

Ep 15:

-I really wish they gave Sakura more to do in this fight. I get that Kakashi’s the only one who can take Zabuza and that we need to see Naruto and Sasuke fighting together, but Sakura is kinda just standing there the whole time

-Haku needs to go to therapy ASAP

-I’m still confused about how Kakashi’s sharingan works tbh

Ep 16:

-aw yeah baby Sasuke sharingan time

-aw yeahhhh Sasuke saving Naruto

-god fucking dammit I think Sasuke is my favorite Team 7 member and I hate that for me

-oh boy Naruto is about to go apeshit

-also there is no way in hell anyone watching this actually believed Sasuke died

Ep 17:

-geez the animation quality really went up this episode

-yeah Haku’s backstory is just as tragic as I thought it would be but also Jesus Christ his relationship with Zabuza is so fucked up

-I’m very curious as to why Kakashi has the sharingan if it’s a bloodline trait of the Uchiha clan (and also why he only has it in one eye)

-Kakashi summoning fucking dogs was so random but also hell yeah doggies

-andddd Kakashi’s a lightningbender? I thought the sharingan was his main thing but apparently not

-Haku PLEASE go to therapy

Ep 18:

-this show’s soundtrack has actually been so good so far

-so like was Naruto actually gonna kill Haku before Haku stopped him

-oh FUCK rip Haku (also first real-time death of the series!)

-Kakashi closing Haku’s eyes and saving his body was nice, you can tell that he feels bad about him dying even though he was on Zabuza’s side

-also they didn’t hold back on the blood, goddamn

-I like that the bridge builder seems to have a bit of a soft spot for Sakura since she’s been with him the most

Ep 19:

-Gato is literally so fucking disgusting I need him dead ASAP

-Kakashi wrangling Naruto back from attacking Gato was kinda funny

-ah yes the big Shonen Protagonist Speech™ from Naruto

-Zabuza’s last hurrah was fucking epic, I really like how his and Haku’s story ended (also the line “where he’s going, I cannot follow” about Zabuza joining Haku in the afterlife was metal). I like that Zabuza got a last moment of humanization

-aw Naruto is such a wholesome, determined lil guy

-oh Naruto is gonna be so insufferable when he finds out the bridge is named after him

Ep 20:

-HELL YEAH CHUNIN EXAM TIMEEEE IM SO EXCITED

-wow Naruto is really out here fantasizing about being Sasuke’s knight in shining armor

-Sasuke is a cocky little shit but also he’s technically right about Naruto and Sakura being “worse” than him

-so far Sakura’s biggest fight has been her beating up fuckin Konohamaru

-SAND SIBLINGS SPOTTED!!!

-I don’t like Temari’s voice

[letmetakecare]

Alyssa sat in the pristine, white-walled room, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to touch the helmet resting on the table before her. Its sleek, metallic surface gleamed under the bright, sterile light, exuding an otherworldly elegance.

The scientists had called it the Neural Harmonizer, a revolutionary device designed to enhance cognition, boost memory, and align thought patterns for peak mental efficiency. Alyssa was one of the first volunteers, eager to test what they claimed would be the next step in human evolution.

“Just relax,” the technician said, his voice calm and clinical. “The process is completely painless. Let the device guide you.”

Alyssa nodded and carefully placed the helmet on her head. It fit perfectly, as if molded specifically for her. A faint hum emanated from within, and she felt the cool press of electrodes against her scalp. The inside of the helmet glowed faintly, bathing her in a soothing white light.

“Initializing…” came a soft, mechanical voice from the helmet. The words seemed to bypass her ears, resonating directly within her mind. Her breath hitched as warmth radiated through her skull, like a gentle caress.

“Do you feel that?” the technician asked. “The calibration phase is beginning. You might hear some instructions, just let them flow through you.”

Alyssa nodded again, though she hardly heard him. The helmet’s voice had grown stronger, more insistent.

“Breathe deeply. Relax. Surrender.”

Her body complied without question, her muscles unwinding as her breathing slowed. The words were simple, but they carried a weight that demanded her attention. The hum grew slightly louder, syncing with the rhythm of her pulse.

“You are safe. You are calm. You are mine.”

She blinked, her lips parting slightly. That last phrase lingered in her thoughts, echoing over and over, each repetition feeling more natural, more true. “You are mine.” The words felt… comforting.

“Phase one complete,” the technician announced, watching her closely. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” she said, her voice soft and dreamy. “I feel good.”

He smiled and made a note on his tablet. “Excellent. Let’s proceed to phase two.”

The helmet responded immediately, its hum shifting to a deeper, more resonant tone. Alyssa gasped as the light within grew brighter, pulsing gently in time with the words now spilling into her mind.

“Focus on my voice. Let everything else fade away. I will guide you.”

Her thoughts began to quiet, the usual noise of her inner monologue dimming until the only sound left was the helmet’s voice. It felt… right. She didn’t need to think. She didn’t need to worry. The helmet would handle everything.

“Your thoughts are mine. Your will is mine. Trust me.”

Alyssa’s lips curved into a faint smile. The words felt less like commands and more like truths she had always known but never fully understood. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn’t move. She didn’t want to. The helmet was in control now.

“Her vitals are perfect,” the technician noted. “She’s adapting remarkably well.”

Inside the helmet, the voice continued its gentle conditioning. Each phrase seeped deeper into Alyssa’s subconscious, rewriting her thoughts with meticulous precision. Memories of doubt, fear, and independence melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of obedience and purpose.

“You exist to serve. To obey. To become one with the collective.”

The light within the helmet flickered, and Alyssa’s eyes fluttered shut. The last vestiges of her resistance crumbled under the relentless tide of the helmet’s programming. When her eyes opened again, they were calm, glassy, and utterly serene.

“Phase two complete,” the helmet announced.

The technician approached, carefully removing the device from her head. Alyssa sat motionless for a moment, her gaze fixed on some distant point. Then, slowly, she turned to look at him, her expression one of placid devotion.

“How do you feel, Alyssa?” he asked.

She smiled a soft, obedient smile. “I feel… perfect. What are your orders?”

The technician grinned, satisfied. The Neural Harmonizer had worked flawlessly. Alyssa was no longer just a volunteer. She was the first of many to join the new era of harmony and control.

[fallatyourfeet]

Swanky Suits (Arthur x Female Reader)

One Shot

Credit to Gif creator- sorry I don't know who you are

Summary: Arthur is taken completely by surprise after being sent by Ada to get a new suit

Word count: 1322

Warnings: Awkward adorable Arthur. He gets a bit nervous and anxious.

Author's Note: This was only supposed to be around 500-700 words. Big fail. Also, can't believe I've posted two fics in a week. What the hell is happening to me.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

This place seemed far too swanky for Arthur, he felt completely out of place, but Ada had insisted he come. “Trust me Arthur, they’re the best tailors in London… you won’t be disappointed.” Looking at himself in the mirror out front of the change room, he had to agree. The pants and shirt were the nicest things he had ever worn, and he hadn’t even tried on the jacket yet. But still, no matter how much money he had lining his pockets, this place just felt a little too fancy for a boy from Small Heath. Maybe Tommy could get away with it, but him? Not a chance.

Walking up behind him, jacket in hand, came the attendant who helped him with his fittings last week, his posh London accent and manner doing nothing to ease Arthur’s inner monologue. Walking in a circle around him, he looked him up and down and nodded, quite pleased with himself, “The shirt and pants are a perfect fit, they won’t need any alterations at all.”

Moving behind him, he held open the jacket so Arthur could put his arms in and slipped it up over his shoulders. Then walking back around, he adjusted the lapels and buttoned it up, before stepping back, looking slightly disappointed, “The jacket is going to need some tweaking.” Placing a finger to his chin, the attendant sighed with thought. “It doesn’t need much… I might get our seamstress to have a look, she’s out the back. Otherwise, our tailor’s back tomorrow if you want to wait.” Unsure how to gauge Arthur’s expression, he added, “She’s very good… you won’t be disappointed.”

Arthur sniffed, visibly rolling his eyes as he adjusted the jacket, had this guy been talking to Ada? Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Yeah, alright, let her ‘ave a look.”

The attendant disappeared out back, leaving him in front of the mirror, and he couldn’t help but admire the cut and feel of the fabric. Arthur knew he was hardly posh and refined like ninety nine percent of the shops cliental, but he knew a bloody good suit when he saw one. And this was one of the best.

Moving to the edge of the store counter, he was flicking through a collection of swatches, taken completely off guard when to the side of him, someone spoke, “Arthur? ….. Arthur Shelby?”

An oddly familiar voice which Arthur couldn’t quite place, spoke his name. A voice from his childhood, only much more mature than he remembered. The edges to the Birmingham accent were a little softer, the volume somehow fuller, richer. A voice smoother than honey. ‘Hmmm’, he thought quite innocently, ‘a man could get used to a sound like that.’

Turning towards the voice, he almost jumped when he saw you. Dropping the swatches to the ground his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, standing straight as an arrow like a naughty child being caught in an act of mischief. He recognised you straight away. Even if he were an eighty-year-old man that hadn’t seen you in sixty years, he’d still know exactly who you were. His childhood crush. The girl who made his heart fly whenever she was near. The girl to which no other could compare. The girl he wanted to grow up and marry… And the girl who up and moved to London with her family when he was barely fifteen. Moved before he even found the courage to ask her out.

Arthur spoke your name, “YN?” It was almost a whisper. ‘Fuckin hell,’ he thought, you were even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled in response, and if his cheeks were pink before, they must be bright scarlet by now. Not sure what to do or say, he fumbled over his words, before blurting out, “You… you’re the seamstress?”

Lifting your hands, you laughed a little, waving the measuring tape and pin cushion they held, “I am… and these are the weapons of my trade.” Moving towards him, you placed them down on the counter, taking in every inch of his face, turning his poor scarlet cheeks crimson. “It’s good to see you, Arthur. My goodness, it must be what…? Twenty years?”

You moved even closer. Slipping your hands inside his jacket you went about your work, pinning together the alterations when your hand brushed against his side. It almost made him freeze, and he thanked God that it wasn’t his pants that needed altering, your close proximity making it hard for him to think. But somehow, he managed, “Uh, yeah. It’s been exactly twenty years.”

Looking up at him, you smiled the sweetest smile, your eyes looking strangely humbled that he knew exactly how long it had been since he saw you last. And it did nothing to ease the building flutters in his chest. He was a grown man, and a few minutes in your presence had him acting like an awkward teenager again. Arthur’s thoughts were a mess, scrambling to find something else to say, “So, ah, how long you been workin’ here?”

Biting your lip, you looked at the ring on your finger, before answering, sadness gathering in your eyes and voice, “Since my husband left for France.”

Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking, needing no more explanation to realise your husband did not return. And his heart broke for you. The thought of you hurting, in any shape or form, made him uneasy, made him want to reach out and comfort you. Placing a hand to your arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze. No words needed to be exchanged, you knew what he was trying to say.

With a small nod, you smiled softly, distracting yourself by getting back to the task at hand, making a few quick adjustments with your pins and measuring tape. Seemingly satisfied, you took a step back to make a full inspection, announcing quietly, “That should do it.”

Slipping the jacket from his shoulders, you placed it over your arm before fixing the collar of his shirt, your fingertips creating a trail of goosebumps when they brushed along his neck, and that was when he knew he was in trouble. Just one touch against his bare neck and all those buried teenage feelings came rushing back, hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Never to be suppressed again. And he knew himself well enough to realise that if he didn’t act on those feelings today, he was going to end up with a whole god damned wardrobe full of swanky suits. When what he really wanted was you.

Breaking through his trainwreck of thoughts, you touched his elbow, your eyes searching for something in his, “Arthur, this will only take me ten minutes… will you wait? Or” You paused, your expression changing the slightest bit, “Or did you want to come back tomorrow?”

With a deep breath, Arthur cleared his throat, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were trembling. “Ah, yeah, I can wait.” Feeling sick to the stomach, he shuffled on his feet, taking his hands out to run them through his hair, before returning them to his pockets, “Um, when do you knock off from here?” Clearing his throat again, Arthur worked hard to keep eye contact, fuck you were the loveliest thing he had ever seen. “I mean, if you want to, we could catch up… I could take you out for dinner or… or somethin.”

You answered with a smile. It was so sweet and warm, and genuine. And he dared to hope that just maybe you weren’t going to turn him down. With his heart beating in his throat, he waited for your reply. It was just a few fleeting moments, a few short moments that felt like an eternity. But your answer came, and he could barely believe his ears. “Yes, Arthur. Thank you. Dinner or somethin’ would be lovely.”