#Pen pals to lovers

[revivify-inn]

Honestly?

The crossed-out words make it for me

[kxsagi]

"𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢"

isagi yoichi has been your childhood friend since the end of grade school. 

the two of you met as pen pals, paired together by your teachers in a random classroom exercise. at first, it was just an assignment, another task to complete, but writing to isagi quickly became something more that never stopped. he had a way with words that made every letter feel effortless, as if the two of you had known each other for lifetimes. 

you were polar opposites – he, the athletic dreamer, chasing soccer with everything he had; you, the studious one, always lost in books and ambition. but even in your differences, there were bridges you crossed together – shared music tastes, the same love for certain foods, the way your minds met in a space only the two of you understood. 

despite living an hour’s train ride apart, in entirely different cities, the two of you agreed on three simple rules: 

no social media. 

no phone numbers. 

no pictures. 

letters were your only means of communication – old-fashioned, tangible, and filled with a mystery that neither of you wanted to shatter. isagi never minded. in fact, he loved it. he loved the way your cream-colored envelopes always arrived with a gold-stamped lotus wax seal. the way your handwriting curved in distinct strokes, familiar yet mesmerizing. even the navy blue ink, scented faintly of blueberries, became something he cherished, something uniquely you. 

and somehow, through those letters, he had fallen in love. 

fate, it seemed, had its own plans. 

at his favorite café in saitama, isagi stood just a few meters away from you. unaware. 

he entered as he always did, stepping through the glass doors, eyes scanning the menu out of habit before deciding, as always, to stick with his usual order. after paying, he moved to the side, waiting near the pickup area, his mind drifting to thoughts of soccer strategies, until something pulled him back to the present. 

a song. 

infrunami by steve lacy. 

a song the two of you had once raved about in your letters, one you would occasionally quote to each other like a secret language. 

and then, accompanying the melody, was a soft voice, almost absentmindedly singing along from a nearby table. 

he turned instinctively, ready to start a conversation with this stranger about the song, only for his breath to catch the moment he laid eyes on you. 

you were absolutely gorgeous. 

the way loose strands of your hair fell as you leaned over your notebook. the subtle gloss on your lips, the same brand of balm you once mentioned using to keep them from drying out. but also, the navy blue pen in your hand, identical in shade to the ink that stained the letters he reread too often. the curves of your handwriting… your handwriting. 

it had to be a coincidence. he blinked, rubbed his eyes, convinced that maybe he was just imagining things. but then, he heard your name called. 

and the nickname. his nickname for you. 

you glanced up at the sound, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment. to you, it was just another awkward moment of unintentional eye contact with a stranger. you brushed it off, stepping up to the counter to collect your matcha, offering a quiet “thank you” to the barista before turning back toward your table. 

but as you passed by him, the supposed stranger who wasn’t a stranger at all, you heard him say something, something so soft, so filled with disbelief, that it stopped you mid-step. 

“this whole time… you were right in front of me." 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n: infrunami is my favorite steve lacy song guys (let’s not talk about how i mispronounced this song name for months until someone called me out on it)

[harmonyrae]

Knight of Passion

Synopsis: You’ve written to him for 16 years, you know him better than you know yourself. When he returns home from the battlefield you’re shocked to find out he’s being honored… by the Queen herself. Oh, and he wants to finally meet you, face-to-face. 

AN: This is my FIRST Caleb fic, so I am still learning how to write him. I will be honest, I am not a fan of the nickname pipsqueak BUT I found a way to incorporate it!

Content Warnings: SFW (future works could have NSFW elements fyi), plot & angst, injury & blood, death of parental figures mentioned, Knight Caleb be doing things to me dude (send help), FMC struggles with body image 

Word Count: 5.7k

“Mama… I- I can barely breathe!” 

After what feels like hours, your mother finally stops trying to pull your dress down over your hips. You’ve always had a wider frame than your sisters, but it seems your body knew about your debut and wanted to offer a surprise. Just one winter was all it took for you to finally grow breasts. Your hips followed suit and when the snow melted you couldn’t fit into any of your spring dresses. Your mother found a dress for the debut ceremony at the palace, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to go shopping for more.

“I’m sorry darling, we will have Miss Julia come by tomorrow to get your measurements. You can tell her exactly what kind of dresses you want. I’ll put a rush on the order and you should have your dresses before the first ball.”

“But what am I going to wear today? I can’t go to the palace in my chemise.”

Your mother stands back and rests her hands on her hips. You cross your arms in front of you and stare at your feet. Your mothers hand glides through your hair.

“I have a few dresses from when I carried Eleanora. They’re not extravagant, but they will fit. And we can add a silk wrap or necklace, you’ll look lovely.”

You walk over to your bed and sit down, placing your head in your hands.

“Everyone will know it’s a breeding dress Mama!”

“Theodora!”

You look at her with tears in your eyes and her frown fades. She sits beside you and urges you to lean over and rest your head on her shoulder.

“I went through a change like this when I was your age. Maybe a tad younger… I begged my mother to let me delay my debut, but she didn’t allow it. I never would have met your father if I had hidden myself away. I should have requested Miss Julia sooner, I didn’t expect Cora and Rafayel to arrive early.”

You thought once Cora and Sera had gotten married and moved away you wouldn’t have to fight for your mothers attention. Of course, the week before your debut both of your sisters arrive to tell your mother they are with child. Your mother was overjoyed, Winnie and Ellie were squealing, your mother began searching for a special tea recipe and you were sitting in the corner completely forgotten. You were happy for your sisters, but felt wholly unprepared when the day of your debut arrived.  

“I promise you have my undivided attention, my dear. Cora and Sera have both been asking what they can do to help you. Maybe they can help you pick some dress patterns? Would you like that?”

You smile, you have missed them terribly. Your mother stands and gently swipes away your tears with her thumbs. 

“I’ll find the dress and we’ll be on our way to the palace in no time at all.”

“Mama, are you sure I must go?” 

“No one has been knighted in many years, the Queen wants this ceremony to be special. Turning it into a social event is rather uncommon, but I hear the young man who is receiving the commendation is more than worthy of a unique experience. Now, I will only be a moment!”

Your mother leaves to rummage through her chests for a dress. You sit at your desk and open the top drawer, flipping through bundles of letters with your finger.

“January, February… March! Here we are.”

You pull out a bundle of letters and untie the knot. Opening the first envelope you pull the letter free. You try not to frown as you examine the writing, his penmanship has gotten worse since Christmas. You quietly read out-loud.

Theo, Another week where I can’t stomach anything but potato soup. The cook must hate me. And the nurses, cleaning up after me is surely exhausting. Remember the recipe you sent me last autumn? The apple cake? I begged a nurse to find the letter and pass the recipe along. They told me this morning they’ll try to make it for me as a farewell present. I still can’t believe they’re shipping me home. They must think I won’t make it if I don’t see a special doctor. If this is my last letter to you… no, I only want to say that in person. Do you still want that? Or do you still like “the mystery”? Either way, thank you for writing to me all these years. Don’t know what I would have done without you.  I’ll write to you as soon as I’m home. If I make it there.  Caleb

You fold the letter and carefully put it back in the envelope. Nearly a month has passed since you received it. The trip couldn’t have taken that long, could it? Your throat threatens to close at the thought of Caleb never writing to you again. After almost 16 years, you’re not sure what you would do. 

“I found one! And it’s your favorite color too!”

You quickly slide the bundle of letters back in the drawer before your mother enters with a bright yellow dress draped over her arm.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

The loose silk dress slides over your curves with ease and you sigh, at least it fits. The yellow shimmers in the sunlight streaming through your window, if it weren’t for the lack of a waistline you would consider wearing the dress again. Your mother eases your arms through the thick lace overcoat, adjusting the short puffy sleeves. She ties a white silk scarf under your breasts to carve out your shape and turns you to face the mirror. 

“See? You look lovely. The scarf is much more fashionable than the plain belt I wore.”

You give her a sweet smile and nod. She leaves to finish getting ready herself and you take a moment to look through your old dresses piled on your bed. Your younger sisters are taller than you so your mother won’t keep them. 

You skip down the stairs, eager to find Ms Jennings before your mother drags you out of the house. You call for her and she rounds the corner to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. The wrinkles around her eyes deepen as she smiles at you.

“Any –”

“No letters today Miss. And yes, I’ve checked twice.”

You’ve asked her the same question for a fortnight and you’re thankful your mother hasn’t overheard. Ms Jennings started delivering Caleb’s letters directly to you when you turned 13. The arrangement between noble families was only meant to last a few years, but you and Caleb agreed to continue anyway. 

Your penmanship as a child was horrible, as was your reading proficiency. You cried and threw a fit whenever your mother tried to encourage you to practice. Your mother discussed the problem over tea with other mothers and discovered it was a common problem. They came up with a creative solution, pairing their children together to write letters. What started as a method to improve your writing and reading turned into a lifelong friendship. 

You nod, sending Ms Jennings on her way. You begin pacing through the entryway, the soft click of your heels drowning out your anxious thoughts. Then there’s a quiet knock on the door. You didn’t wait for Ms Jennings and approached the door without a second thought. As soon as the door swung open you wished you had been more patient. You were face-to-face with a man's chest and had to step back to look up at him properly.

The man is tall, broad, a sweep of dark brown hair sits neatly across his forehead. His jaw set as his violet eyes examined you. You quickly give him a once over, still baffled at how large he is compared to you. His dark blue frock coat is fully buttoned, the velvet material stretched taut over his chest. The golden buttons and dainty medals glint in the sunshine. His shako is tucked under his arm, his gloved fingers tracing the chinstrap repeatedly. The sleeve of his right arm is rather loose and your heartbeat quickens with a singular assumption.

You clear your throat and stand up straight.

“Apologies, may I… help you?”

The man smiles, his face transforming and quite literally taking your breath away. You suppress a gasp and force a smile in return. He bows.

“I do not mean to intrude, I know it’s… unusual, but I was hoping to call on Miss Theodora Raeton?”

Your breakfast makes an attempt to resurface and you swallow hard. You grip the door handle so tightly your hand begins to ache.

“Who is asking?”

You want to slap yourself for being so improper, but you’re a tad too focused on staying on your feet to care.

“Caleb, I… Well, I’d like to think I’m a friend?”

You let out a laugh - somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. You shake your head and force your smile to stay put. 

“She… My sister - Theodora… yes, she told me, uhm… yes, she told me about you. You wrote letters, yes?”

His eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth twitches as his smile fades for a moment. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and shifts his weight between his feet. When his smile returns it’s brighter than before.

“Yes, for many years. I’m hoping to finally speak to her face-to-face.”

You start chewing the inside of your cheek, a habit you’ve constantly failed to break. 

“I- I’m not sure she’s in… at the moment… She might be… out.”

He chuckles under his breath and drops his head, his hair gently falling out of place. Your fingers twitch with the thought of reaching out to fix it. 

“Of course. Might I request you pass this along to her?”

He slowly lifts his right arm, his face twists as if he’s in pain and you take a step forward. He holds up a letter and you take it quickly, allowing his arm to return to his side. He huffs and takes a small step back. 

“Thank you.”

You hear a man shout his name and you look past him, seeing a small group of men in matching uniforms on their horses. One of them waves at him, beckoning him to come over. You look up to see Caleb staring down at you. 

“Please, forgive me, but I must go.”

He bows once more and walks back through the front gate of your house. He secures his hat before awkwardly jumping up onto his horse using only his left arm. You watch as he rides away with the men, glancing over his shoulder to smile at you before disappearing at the end of the street. Once he is out of sight you hurry inside and close the door, leaning against it while you catch your breath. You open the envelope hastily, almost ripping the paper.

Theo, You must hate me, it’s been too long since I last wrote. The journey home was long and I was sent to a doctor intent on forcing me to rest. He would not give me paper no matter how many times I requested it. Even the nurses were afraid of him. I’ll beg for your forgiveness if I must. The doctor said I won’t be returning to the battlefield. I am settled in my family home. The steward maintained it well after my parents died. The swing is still on the oak on the hill looking over the orchard. And Pip is still alive, she’s slow but can still walk with me through the grounds. I want to see you. I need to see you. There are things I want to say, things I can’t write. Please, Theo, I do not wish to know you as only words on paper. Please. Caleb

You wipe away a tear as you return the letter to the envelope and stuff it in a book to carry upstairs. Your mother runs into you and holds your shoulders, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“My darling, whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing… I was reading… the dust… I will just put this in my room and we can go,”

You do not wait for her response, you rush past her and run to your room. You quietly close the door and sit down at your desk. Pulling out the envelope, you notice the estate name in the corner. He never had your letters sent there while his parents were alive, a pub received the letters and he would pick them up every other day. It’s his estate now, he has the freedom to do whatever he pleases. You, however, do not have the same luxury. You stuff the envelope in the drawer with the other letters and hurry to join your mother in the carriage. The Queen awaits. 

The palace is nearly full when you arrive with your mother, a feat you believed to be impossible. Your mother quickly finds your sisters and their husbands. Thanks to your brother-in-laws status as a Duke, you are all escorted closer to the throne. 

“I can request seating for you? You should sit. You both should sit. I’ll find someone…”

“Sylus! We’re fine.”

Sera places a hand on Sylus’s arm and draws him back to her side. For someone who is usually so suave and carefree, Sylus has become a tad overbearing since he found out Sera is expecting. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Rafayel also doesn’t let go of Cora for even a moment. You giggle and your mother gives you a warning look. Sera winks at you and you cover your mouth to hide your smile. 

Soft music begins playing and you lean forward to see the Queen arrive. You curtsy and tilt your head to see when everyone else will rise. Your thighs start to burn and you honestly wonder if the Queen wants to see a young lady faint. Thankfully, her majesty isn’t feeling too cruel today. Everyone shuffles into a comfortable position as the Queen leans back on her throne. 

“Today, we are here to honor a young man, who has shown valor beyond his years. Placing himself in danger, maimed by the misfortune of an eruption! All to protect his fellow officer!”

Whispers of praise surround you, ladies oohing and ahhing, gentlemen nodding in approval of his bravery. But for you, the room becomes unbearably hot. You shift uncomfortably and feel your mother behind you, gently holding you still. You feel as though you are finally piecing a puzzle together. 

“I have been called upon by his peers to issue him the highest honor. And that is exactly why we are gathered here today. As we have not had the privilege in some time, I believe a traditional ceremony with a few embellishments is warranted. Shall we begin?”

Large doors at the back of the room open and everyone around you is already blocking your view. You hear footsteps and the muffled whispers around you slowly fade until all you can hear is your heartbeat.

Caleb marches past with his peers. The group bows before the Queen and she gives them a subtle nod. All the men besides Caleb step back and Caleb kneels. An older gentleman holding two swords steps up beside the Queen.

“I have been told of your prowess in battle, your peers praise you and wish your sacrifice be made honorable. I am of the mind to admit you to the Order of Skyhaven. Will you accept this honour?”

“I will.”

“Will you give us your word that all you do will serve as a noble example to our people?”

“I will.”

“Will you treat all with courtesy, and uphold the laws and traditions of our kingdom?”

“I will.”

“Will you swear fealty to us, our crown?”

“I will.”

“Then we swear fealty to you, Caleb, to protect and defend you and all your household, with all our power, until we depart from our throne, or death takes us.”

The gentleman steps forward and motions for Caleb to rise. He sheaths the sword and secures it around Caleb’s waist. He holds up the other sword and steps up to face Caleb. With one swift motion he strikes Caleb across the face with the flat of his sword. The crowd collectively gasps and the Queen gives a stern look, effectively silencing everyone. You clutch the front of your dress and bite your lip so hard you taste copper. You remember reading about knighting ceremonies, the act is traditional, but witnessing it first-hand made your stomach drop. Caleb kneels again and bows his head. Another officer approaches and presents the Queen a sword. She proceeds to lower the blade onto Caleb’s shoulder and lifts it to switch to the other side.

“I dub thee once, dub thee twice, dub thee Knight. From this day forward, let no blade touch you, that you live with honour, courage and prowess. We command you to protect the defenceless, seek justice for all, and maintain the honour of your order. Bring no dishonour to your sword, and carry it in defence of any and all who have need of it. Sir Caleb, rise and go forth. For Sir Caleb, newest Knight of the Order of Skyhaven, three cheers!”

The crowd cheers as Caleb stands, bowing once more before turning around. He rests his hand on the hilt of his new sword and looks around. His eyes lock onto you and you step back, hiding behind Sylus who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You keep your head down until Caleb and his fellow officers exit the room. The crowd slowly filters out, but you remain frozen in place. Your mother tugs on your arm and when you don’t move she lifts her hand to your forehead.

“Theodora? Are you feeling poorly?”

You shake your head and stumble forward, letting your mother hold your arm and guide you out of the room. Caleb, the man you’ve written to for 16 years, who you thought was dead until this morning, who is far more attractive than he let on, is now a knight and he’s home, for good. And he wants to see you. Question is, are you brave enough to face him?

After a week and three fittings, you finally have your new dresses. You stare at your bed, now covered in extravagant linen and lace. Before you had no options, now you have too many. The party today will be the first time you get to wear a proper fitting dress this season. Holding up dress after dress, you examine yourself in the mirror. 

“Too formal… Too light… Too dark… Too… Yellow?”

“I thought you liked yellow?”

You drop the dress and jump, turning quickly to see Sera leaning in your doorway. You bend to pick up your dress and toss it on the bed. She makes her way into your room, around hat boxes and piles of shoes, to clear a space on your bed to sit. She sighs heavily as she sits, a hand protectively over her stomach. After successfully hiding her condition from Mama for most of the winter, she was relieved to finally huff and puff without caring who hears. 

“I do like yellow, I just… I don't know what to wear today. It’s a garden party, but not formal, but still… I don’t know…”

You flop down on the bed, dramatically covering your eyes with an arm. You hear Sera giggle and pat the bed beside you.

“This one.”

You sit up and look down at Sera’s suggestion. She had requested this pattern at the very first fitting and you had to admit, it’s stunning. A pale yellow base with a sheer overlay covered in white daisy appliques and sheer white sleeves that cover down to your elbows. 

“White lace mittens, your embroidered reticule and the white slippers with the little bow!”

You trail your fingers over the white daisies and smile. Sera loves to dress others up, but hates dressing up herself. You can see her dirty riding boots under the hem of her dress and know very well she won’t be changing them. You stand and hold the dress up, twirling around and smiling. When you face Sera, she’s sporting the biggest grin.

“Why are you so nervous about this party?”

Carefully slipping the dress over your head, you smooth the fabric out and sit beside Sera. She secures the buttons slowly, stopping to tap your shoulder. You sigh and stare at your hands.

“It’s rather sudden, wouldn’t you say? Parties and balls are usually scheduled weeks before the debutante presentation. I’m surprised Mama is so… resolute… about our attendance.” “You do not wish to attend Sir Caleb’s party?”

You shake your head.

“No! No… I- I just… I find it strange.” 

Sera hums and pats your back. You stand and start searching for your lace mittens. While you enjoy the silence, your mind races with questions you wish you could ask. You finally groan loudly and turn to face Sera.

“How did you know you were in love?”

Sera gasps and then starts to laugh.

“Theo… is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“No! Sera… please… I… I just need…”

She places her hands over yours and squeezes them. 

“I’m sorry for my teasing. I- It was just unexpected, is all.” 

She motions for you to follow her to the bed. You sit beside her and she sweeps your hair over your shoulder, gently twirling your curls. 

“I was not sure right away. When I first met Sylus I wanted to slap him, sometimes I still do! I expected him to find me improper and avoid my company, like most gentlemen used to do. And yet, he’d seek me out. Treat me as an equal, not property to acquire.”

You look over your shoulder to see her eyes glisten with tears.

“I knew I loved him when he smiled after I told him I hated him. I was not afraid to speak, to disagree, to challenge him - I felt entirely safe and cherished. For just being myself. I could be as impolite as I pleased, and he would still love me.”

You pull her into a hug and listen to her quietly sob for a few moments. She sits back and clears her throat.

“God, I cry all the time now… Now will you tell me why you are asking?”

You shake your head with a sneaky smile and jump up before she can grab you. She doesn’t pressure you to tell her, but she does promise to keep a close eye on you. She leaves you to finish getting ready and shuts your door. You sit at your desk and pull out a new bundle of letters, opening each and laying them out in front of you. You’d written to Caleb as soon as you returned home from his knighting ceremony. Since then, his correspondence has been growing more frequent. 

Theo. I’m sure you’ve heard, I was honored by the Queen, can you believe I’m a knight? Sir Caleb, sounds pompous, does it not? I will be helping my former superiors “teach” new officers - they wish to use me as an example of what not to do, I am almost certain. Have you considered what I requested? Please, I wish to speak to you. To see the smile you’re wearing knowing I’m home, and alive. Caleb

You never should have written about how happy it had made you to receive his letter. While it is true that you have not stopped smiling since his return, you’ve also not stopped fidgeting. Would he regret meeting you? Once he knows what you look like or how awkward and shy you can be?

Theo, I do not wish to rely on my title, I intend to open the orchard this autumn. I remember you used to wish for the Allhallowtide Festival to be held in an orchard. With apple cakes, apple tarts, apple preserves on scones, apple tea, apple custard. I may have mentioned the idea to the Queen the other day and she is beside herself. She wishes to hold a ball in my orchard next spring. I will not force you to meet me, if you only wish to write to me I will be content. However, I will not hide my desire for you to reconsider. Caleb

The Allhallowtide Festival in his family orchard sounds heavenly. Crisp autumn air, sweet apples, warm scones and tea. You would never consider missing such an affair. You know Caleb, possibly better than you know yourself, you know he will never stop asking to meet. Should you just get it over with?

Theo, I must know, are you afraid to meet me? Have I done something? I will make it right, tell me what I must do. I do hope you consider attending the garden party I am hosting today. It’s rather sudden, but I cannot stand the silence. You know better than most how I thrive in chaos. If you do not wish to meet, I will avoid your family if I must. Please attend, if only to see the apple blossoms and Pip. Caleb

It was the first time you had the chance to read the letter you received this morning. Your eyes burned, he thought he’d done something to hurt you. All because you’re afraid he will be disappointed. Maybe you can speak to him today and see what he thinks about “Theo” - you were surprisingly good at reading expressions. 

You return the letters to their envelopes and stow them away. You stand and put on your mittens, loop your reticule around your wrist and slip on your slippers. Pinching your cheeks lightly as you pass the mirror you rush to join your mother and sisters. Today you’ll be anyone but Theodora Raeton.

Arriving at Caleb’s estate you’re instantly shaken by its size, you couldn’t even see the orchard yet. The gardens in front of the manor were well maintained and extensive. A large lake sat along the right side, a small island with a gazebo sat at its center. As soon as you rounded the house, the entire back garden came into view. Ladies sat at round tables sipping tea and fanning themselves. Men stood in small groups in the open field. You spot several of them holding pall mall mallets. 

Sylus and Sera charge ahead to find a table in the shade and Rafayel and Cora take off for the lake for a stroll. Your mother clings to you as you follow Sylus and Sera. Once everyone is seated and comfortably drinking tea, you stand.

“I’m going to go for a walk. And yes, Mama, I will be careful, don’t worry.”

Your mother nods and continues to sip her tea. Sera gives you a knowing look, but remains silent. You walk past several tables, politely waving and greeting family acquaintances. You pass the dessert station and quickly grab a slice of apple cake, how Caleb got so many fresh apples out of season you’ll never know. 

Passing a group of men playing a lively game of pall mall, you spot the entrance to the orchard. You climb a small hill and look past the line of hedges. The apple blossoms are gorgeous, a sea of pastel pink stretching as far as you can see. You can only imagine what it looks like in autumn, trees full of apples, the grass dry and covered in leaves and fallen fruit. 

A shrill laugh draws your attention back to the entrance, you see Caleb - looking dashing as ever - speaking to a young lady. You immediately recognize her, Miss Dahlia Atwood. Tall, thin, perfectly average bosom and hips. Her chestnut brown hair meticulously curled and pinned back to show off her dainty lips and rosy cheeks. Her dress matches Caleb’s eyes, no doubt chosen deliberately.

She bats her lashes and smiles sweetly and your heart aches with every passing moment. You try to quietly stroll over to a bench further away, but almost shout when you hear a loud yip. You look down and see a shaggy hunter spaniel, their shiny white fur with dark brown spots. Their tongue lolls out of their mouth and their tail wags furiously. They look up at you expectantly and your lip trembles, Pip. 

You bend and extend your hand cautiously. Pip sniffs your palm and gives it a lick. You giggle and scratch behind her ears, you remember Caleb said she likes that best. 

“She likes you.”

You launch yourself upright, nearly falling backwards. Caleb stands a few feet away, his hands behind his back. You look over his shoulder and see Dahlia glare at you - as if you personally asked Caleb to stop talking to her. You turn your attention back to Pip and chuckle. 

“You think so?”

Caleb nods. You bend and continue petting her, her tail wagging so fast her whole body is swaying. 

“Is your sister still feeling poorly?”

You bite your lip, you forgot you wrote to him about “Theo” feeling ill. You stand up and step past Pip, slowly making your way to the bench. You sit and place your plate on your lap. 

“Yes, she… she is. Very poorly.” 

“And how are you today, Miss Raeton?”

You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Me?”

He chuckles before gesturing to the bench, his smile faltering slightly as he clenches his fist. He’d used his right arm, you still didn’t know the extent of his injuries, he wouldn’t write about it. You move over so he can sit down.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when it rains. Or when I overexert myself.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, you’re not trying to avoid the matter like everyone else.”

“... Miss Atwood looked very pleased to see you. I did not intend to disrupt your conversation.”

Caleb laughs.

“You and Pip saved me from the most disagreeable –” He closes his eyes and clears his throat. “Apologies, I am far too comfortable speaking bluntly. A consequence of the better part of 4 years surrounded by rowdy officers.”

You smile and bow your head. 

“What I mean to say is I am grateful, I did not particularly wish to speak to her in that manner.” 

“Oh… I would have thought you would be pleased to find such a… a… lady for you… for such a house.”

He watches you, his smile soft as his eyes burn through you.

“I informed her I am already pursuing another.”

You chose the wrong time to take a bite of your apple cake. You cough until you are red in the face. Caleb disappears to fetch you some tea and you’re left on the bench desperate to run all the way home. When he returns you sip the tea slowly, soothing your sore throat. 

“Th-thank you. I was just - ahem - I was just surprised is all. I did not realize you were courting a young lady already.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And… as I am already sharing my secrets with you, I intend to propose, when she’s ready.”

The tea cup clatters as you set it back on the saucer. You hold your breath to suppress the tears, but cannot stop yourself from gasping. You set the saucer on the bench and stand up. Caleb looks up at you, his brows raised.

“I am truly happy to hear that Sir Caleb, happy indeed. I must… I must go, please excuse me.”

You rush past him and into the orchard, nearly sprinting as soon as you think you’re out of sight. Your lungs burn as you run through the lush grass, apple blossom petals fluttering down around you. 

The trail you’ve been following splits off and you follow a new direction up a hill. Your hands shake as you come to a stop in front of a giant oak tree. An old swing hangs from one of its branches. Caleb wrote about this swing and how he would run here when his father was angry with him. He called it his “safe place” - the bark of the tree was whittled away, letters carved to claim this place as his own. You reach out and hold the rope, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. 

Are you surprised? Did you think he was interested in you just from your silly letters? That’s why he wanted to talk to you face-to-face, he wanted to tell you about his impending nuptials. You’d only ever be his friend, nothing more. You knew this, so why can’t you stop crying? Why does it hurt so badly?

“Theodora!”

You spin around and see Caleb climbing the hill towards you. His face is flushed as he rushes to stand before you. 

“Theo…”

Caleb extends his hand, gently lifting your chin to adjust your gaze. He doesn’t let go, his thumb gliding over your jaw to hold you in place.

“Y-you k-knew? Th-this whole t-time?”

He nods.

“How?”

“I was your secret. You told me that. You said you’ve never told a soul about our letters. I considered you may have a sister you trust, maybe you told them. But I knew better. I know you.”

“I – I don’t…”

“Your eyes. You wrote about how much you hated the color. And I told you, I bet your eyes are the perfect shade of brown. That they’ll sparkle in the sun. Flecks of gold, more lovely than any jewel. I was right…”

He lets go of your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. You wrap a hand around his wrist and he gasps softly.

“I – I didn’t mean to lie. I thought… I thought you’d…”

“Be disappointed? I meant what I said, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re the only reason I fought so damn hard to get home. I wasn’t going to die without seeing you.”

He closes the distance and tries to lift his right arm to circle around you. When you see his struggle, you tuck your arm under his lifting it enough for him to rest his palm against  your hip. His eyes close as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. His other hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck. 

“Without holding you.”

You lean into his touch, his hand warm and tender. 

“And yes, I meant it when I said I intend to propose. When you’re ready, I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.”

He leans back, opening his eyes to meet yours.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

🐝❀🍎 AN #2: I tried my best to be historically accurate, some modern terms are just way easier to use for a smoother reading experience. Used THIS as reference for knighting ceremony - changed it to be less official & more LADs casual style. All photos taken from Pinterest. *Changed the letters from Caleb to normal font cause it is hard to see on mobile!

(If you DO NOT want to be tagged in ALL REGENCY AU fics, just leave a comment. Keep in mind, each story hints at the futures for each pair sooooo...) 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @freddy-2002-blog @kiude @tati-the-fangirl @mtcozylove @3fingersofscotch @stxrrielle @angelicspaceprince @hebreeee @beykyuns @sylusgirlie7 @goblynn @freddy-2002-blog

[hairmetal666]

Eddie walks through Washington Square Park on his way to work, basking at the chill in the air even though it’s only early September. Soon the leaves will turn yellow and orange and red, littering the sidewalks and grass with color. The air will cool in earnest, and he can bring out his favorite flannels as all the NYU students pull on their beanies and puffy coats and polar fleece.

In his most private thoughts, Eddie believes that New York City is at its most warm and welcoming in the fall; that the scent of coffee and roasted apples and cinnamon lingers in the air, that the yellow lights of warm apartments and the slow creep of fake spiderwebs and carved pumpkins calm the hearts and minds of scared tourists and jaded New Yorkers alike.

Eddie has this thing about fall in the city, right, but if you were to ask him his feelings about leaf peeping, or what-the-fuck-ever, he’d laugh in your face. Not that anyone ever asked him. He wasn’t the sort of man that gave the impression he cared about seasons. Honestly, his closest friends would probably express doubt Eddie even knew what the seasons were. 

He stops at a coffee shop, picking up drinks and pastries, before walking the remaining few blocks to his store.

He unlocks the security awning and the door, and as he pushes it wide, he takes the same deep breath he’s taken since the moment he stepped inside five years ago, inhaling the scent of paper, ink, dust, and patchouli, letting it fill his lungs and level him out.

God, he loves this place. He doesn’t know shit about books or running a business, but this place is his place, even before he owned it. He loves the built-in hardwood shelves, the polished floors, the crown moldings, the soft blue paint of the walls; the too-fancy crystal light fixtures; the solid wood chunk of the front counter, barely big enough for two people to stand behind; the way the smaller store front opens into a wide, inviting space; the swinging half-door into the tiny office that’s cluttered on a good day and a beloved disaster zone normally.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, in the chronology of his life and interests, that he’d find himself owning a queer, new age bookstore in New York City at the ripe old age of twenty-five, but here he is. Making it work. Mostly.

Full fic live now on ao3!

[liillyliilly]

All Night Long

iwaizumi hajime x reader words; 1162 synopsis; the whole pen pal thing had been his mom's idea. now? he was glad that he had someone like her to tell everything to.

(So, if you just give me a chance, I can still show you romance)

Iwaizumi doesn’t quite remember when he started sending letters to Y/n. All he remembers is that his mom wanted him to diversify his communication skills, since he had only really ever talked to the boys on his volleyball team.

So, sending letters back and forth with a girl from Tokyo seemed like a rational solution to Mrs. Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi would send one letter one week and then she would send a letter the next one. And that’s how it had been for four years.

At first the letters were strictly professional. Asking about goals, academics, and life plans. Gradually, the shells of both Iwaizumi and Y/N were chipped away at. Divulging details of a bad kiss, or something hilarious a friend did. When she started to cut out classic memes, putting cardstock editions of volleyball player trading cards and writing out various links to Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up", Iwaizumi thought he met his almost heavenly match.

While she didn't play volleyball, she treated it like something special, and respected Iwaizumi's love for the sport. He felt proud when she acknowledged how much of a hard-worker he must have been to be ranked so highly in his prefecture with his team.

She also always knew what to write to him to help motivate him. Quotes from famous people never made an appearance, she just had the old soul wisdom to articulate exactly what needed to be said to him.

Iwaizumi does remember when he started to wait right next to the mailbox just so he could read her letter as soon as possible. And he does remember when it starts to take him longer than five hours to write a response. And he definitely remembers when Oikawa starts to tease him about his hobby.

“You actually write to her every week?” Oikawa holds up the basket that Iwaizumi keeps all of her letters in. Carefully they are sectioned off by year and then by month. He has written the date they arrived in the corner of the envelope so he can keep all of them organized. When Oikawa starts to pull out letters, Iwaizumi rips the basket out of his hands and holds it close to his chest.

“No, Shittykawa. It’s every other week.” Iwaizumi sides the basket under his bed before slumping back down into his beanbag.

Oikawa grins before sitting down on a chair opposite to Iwaizumi. “Have you ever thought about asking her for her number?”

“Why would I?”

“Because then you guys can talk, without having to wait two weeks before the other responds.” Oikawa shrugs pulling out his phone to mess around on it, eyes peeking out over his glasses to look at Iwaizumi. “Unless, of course, you're afraid.”

“I am not afraid.” Iwaizumi grabs his clipboard to start writing his response letter, her most recent letter sitting on his side table so he can reference it.

Except, this time, instead of a nice long handwritten letter, it’s a simple series of numbers. And a small phrase. “Text me?” Iwaizumi considers drawing a smiley face, or even just a small shrugging stick figure drawing. But he thinks that what he wrote is enough. He hopes it’s enough for her to contact him.

The walk to drop off the letter in his mailbox is agonizing. He retreats twice before his mom yells at him and tells him he needs to send it today or else the letter schedule will be all messed up. The thought of Y/N having to wait longer than seven days to get his letter suddenly becomes more of a worry than his potential rejection of swapping numbers.

On day one, the day after the mailperson picked up the letter, Iwaizumi's hands were perpetually sweaty.

On day two, Iwaizumi felt a little better, he could forget all about his pen pal and then it would be perfectly fine. Except he could never forget her.

Days three to six were a blur. His phone felt heavier each day, and he even decided to leave it home from school on day six because he kept looking at it for too long. Checking again and again for any new messages.

(I wanna get real close to you)

Iwaizumi almost faints when an unrecognized number sends the phrase, “I know who you are Hajime.” He grips at his heart before easing up when the next message is sent. “Because it's me! Y/n L/n.”

She sends him a lot of Godzilla memes. She talks about her day. She asks him about volleyball. She rants about the people she goes to school with. She is perfect to him.

His palms are sweaty as he wipes them onto his joggers as he stares at Y/n’s contact. The phone icon mocking him for his nervousness. He takes a deep breath. She had told him that she’s used to having her friends call her an obnoxious number of times, but that she likes talking on the phone because she likes hearing people’s voices. Iwaizumi leans back on his desk chair and runs his hands through his hair.

He had drank his mother's throat soothing honey lemon tea for at least a week leading up to his decision to call her. But the nerves about what his voice sounded like still irked him. He had been told that he had a rough voice by his friends. A dorky voice from Oikawa. A lovely voice by his mom. What would she think though? Her opinion was the only one that really mattered anyway.

He stands up and shakes his legs and hands in an effort to get rid of his anxiety. He jumps around in his room for a bit as he tries to get his energy out. Iwaizumi puts his hands on his face and reminds himself, calling people is normal. Totally and completely normal. But his reminder does nothing to ease how his right hand is shaking while it hovers over the call button.

He presses the button and hold his phone to his ear, biting down on his lip.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice asks. And Iwaizumi’s heart races as it tries to find a way to ingrain her voice upon itself.

“Y/n! Hi, it's me Hajime!” He cringes when he realizes how alike he sounds to Oikawa. Enthusiasm didn’t fit the way he acted, but the way Y/n interacted with him made him want to be as keen as possible.

“Hajime! What’s up?” A large smile overwhelms his face as he rubs the back of his head.

Neither really knows how long they spent on the phone talking. But by the time it was around two in the morning, Y/n was snoring softly over the phone and Iwaizumi was breathing at an even pace with his phone sitting on his pillow close to his ear.

(All night long)

[wangxianficrecs]

A Promise in Ink by Witch_Nova221

A Promise in Ink

by Witch_Nova221 (@witchnova221)

G, 1k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Zhan is given a pen pal in school. For ten years, they write to one another, sharing their lives but never seeing each others' faces until, one day, Wei Ying comes home. Kay's comments: Really loved this idea of Wangxian being pen pals and Wei Wuxian traveling across the world as a diplomat's son. Very sweet and soft story, no angst at all. Excerpt: 'Wei Ying?' he said, the sound of his name coming out a little strange and he cursed that all the poise he had hoped to greet his friend with chose that moment to flee him at the sight of a face far more handsome than he had ever dared imagine it. 'It's me,' said Wei Ying, 'And you're you and I'm finally getting to meet you. Lan Zhan, can I hug you? I've wanted to hug you for years.' Lan Zhan didn't get a chance to answer as strong, warm arms came around him, hugging him tightly. Their friendship had been nothing but words, pages and pages of stories and feelings, but, in that moment, no words were needed. Lan Zhan didn't care how many people looked on as he stood embracing his friend, if anyone thought it strange just how long they stood still and silent, breathing in the reality of one another. All he cared about was that Wei Ying was real, solid and warm in his arms, years of ink made into a man who was everything Lan Zhan hoped he would be.

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, getting together, first meetings, friends to lovers, pen pals, childhood friends, short & sweet, long-distance friendship, fluff, no angst

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[freakshowcowboy]

im still saying instead of killing off marina for eloise to marry her stupid husband eloise and marina should fall in love

[mosspop]

☆ looking 4 penpal ☆

• hello ! my name is lane / mossie ! my pronouns are he/they, i am a lesbian and i am 21 ! i am looking for a committed penpal ! please be 19 or older. do not respond if you fall under basic dni criteria ! please check out my pinned post • my interests include: video games [atm fields of mistria & minecraft] 90s music, cozy vibes [calico critter, coloring, doll collecting] sea creatures, forest/nature in general & the tv yellowjackets! • my hobbies include: studying & listening to music, photography, collecting physical media, journaling, witchcraft, and hiking! • i plan on including many fun things when i send letters! tea packets, thrifted jewelry, pressed flowers, stickers, polaroids, yadada! anything that i think you may enjoy ! [i have a lot of sanrio stickers] oh ! and custom burned cds ! • i would like to keep contact outside of the letters to a minimum ! i will follow you on socials! if you are interested please complete this google form PLEASE BE IN THE US.

[prettyboyprettyeyes]

Hihi! i’m really looking for friends, as i don’t have any, and thought this would be a fun way to try and see if anyone would like to be friends or maybe even pen pals

[tenebrius-excellium]

You should know that there is a sense of peace, love and community fun waving through Germany during the European Soccer Championship right now that I don't think I have seen before in my lifetime

Germany and Scotland have fallen in love with each other. Germans think the Scots are super cute. Like an elephant finds a human cute cute. Germany has adopted Scotland. They're offering to make them the 17th state of Germany so they can be in the EU again, even giving the island of Mallorca back to Spain in return (which is a huge deal if you know what I'm talking about) lol (!it's a running gag! chillax)

No but in all earnestness, when the German soccer team is good (which it seems like again, after two very bad seasons), we get what we call a "summer fairytale" - our grudgy, grey, square and proper country loosening up a bit and finding common joy in the soccer championship. It's pretty much the only thing we get to be innocently proud of after you-know-what. It's the only place where we get to wave our flag and display a teeny-tiny bit of open emotion and a teeny-tiny bit of national pride. All other days, it's this constant pressure to be humble, to be hard-working, to be rational, to second-guess our every thought because. You-know what. Well, we do carry the generational memory. Which is okay. It's important. But this means that soccer as a positive emotional release is massive for us.

So yeah, just wanted to report on overall good vibes and chill over here in Germany

And before this post gets hijacked for any political agenda, I am also pleased to report that my town has started to plant so, soooo many wildflower meadows. Bees are returning. Butterflies are returning. Ants are returning. Snails are returning. It's nowhere near the amount of bugs that I had been used to as a child, but it's looking hopeful!!! Especially within the very short amount of time of one (1) summer!!!

There is so much good in the world despite all that's going on

Let this be a positive post please and thank you!

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: You’ve Got Mail

Aziraphale and Crowley are hereditary enemies, rival book shop owners engaged in corporate warfare. They are also pen pals that are perfect for one another. They don’t know about that bit though.

Length: 68,184 Words

AO3 Rating: Teen and Up

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Enemies to Lovers

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by SouthDrarryReturned

*Minor Spoilers* This is a You've Got Mail but Good Omens remake. I've never seen You've Got Mail, and I'm not planning to, but if you told me this was a completely original human AU for Aziraphale and Crowley, I would have absolutely believed it! Tons of fun, lots of adventure, and I'm a sucker for pen pals.

So if you also don't know the plot of the movie, here's the summary for this fic. Crowley is the heir to a massive book retailer, and he is opening a new store right down the road from Aziraphale's cozy and struggling bookshop. They meet and sparks are already igniting, but once Aziraphale learns who Crowley is, it's all-out war, with plenty of misunderstandings and accusations flying. At least at the end of the day, Aziraphale has the comfort of a new email from his dear pen pal Anthony. You get the picture.

I love how this very much feels like its own thing, but still follows a very cinematic storyline. I don't know how close of a remake it is, but I'm assuming it veers off from the movie, at least with its Hastur and Ligur scenes, but possibly others as well. It gets a little action movie in the middle of its rom-com, but I found it pretty fun. Full of clumsy and awkward Crowley, which is always a good time. Their emails are definitely a highlight, I like their more formal tone and how instantly they fall for each other through that medium. I will never tire of their chemistry! Completely safe in public, and I think it's a great low-stakes casual read!

Read it here, fic by SouthDrarryReturned

[historian-crown]

Dropping this on tumblr as well. If you like slow burn, friends to lovers, love letters and some kind of mystery case in an old catholic abbey that is now housing devil worshipers you are at the right place.

[hairmetal666]

Dropping on ao3 next week!

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a�� least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[wonupatootie]

최승철 // Choi Seungcheol [S.Coups] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩 Part II

이야기가 길어지더라도 밤새 계속 네 편이 되어줄게 기대 팔베개로~

Main Recs Masterlist

➣Part I // Part II

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“AMORTENTIA; Seungcheol [Gryffindor Captain]” (Part of AMORTENTIA Series) by @http-mianhae

Fem!reader || Hogwarts au, fluff, angst, one-sided love || W.C: 17.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Being head-over-heels for the Gryffindor captain is harder than it seems, especially when everyone knows about your little crush on Seungcheol and he takes it lightly. Until when you’re partnered up and forced to be in each other’s lives on a daily basis, that’s when things take a bit of a turn

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“SONDER” by @jundundun

Fem!reader || medieval au, smut, angst, slowburn || W.C: 14.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seungcheol is the head knight of the kingdom of nephele. what happens when seungcheol begins to fall for the princess and resident sweetheart, Y/N.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Bend & Break” by @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Fem!reader || coworker au, friends to fuckers, smut || W.C: 10k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You've recently been hired due to the sunshine personality you showed for an interview, purely with the intention of the company pairing you up with Seungcheol to counteract his grumpy attitude around the office. Nobody realises it's just a work persona of yours and when someone does, it's none other than Choi Seungcheol himself.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Heartbreaker” by @hannieween

[Series] || Fem!reader || exes to lovers, angst, smut || Parts: 4 || Total W.C: 65.4k (as of now) || Status: Ongoing

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Three events made you wonder if you are the unluckiest person in the world. First, the constant hopping from job to job, only to land in a local bar. Second, the revelation that your new boss is none other than your ex. Third, the painful realisation that you're not completely over your him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Troublemaker” by @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Fem!reader || gang au, smut, angst, humour, fluff || W.C: 15.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You're known for being able to get your hands on anything you want; drugs, weapons, money, cars. Except your boss, he's always been a little out of your reach, until the day you have him handcuffed in the backseat.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Crossing Boundaries” by @wonusite

Fem!reader || single dad au, nanny au, smut, fluff || W.C: 8.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“The Pen Pal Project” by @mr-cha-n

Fluff, fluff, and more fluff, tiny angst || W.C: 10.2k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Over a decade of handwritten letters later, you can happily say that the Pen Pal Project was your greatest success.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Lover” by @starlightxsvt

Fem!reader || sugar daddy au, fake dating, strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, angst, fluff || W.C: 15.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the worst first meeting and then an uncanny proposition is enough to cause trouble for you. you fall for a man who doesn't seem all that keen on returning your feelings.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Exes and Oh’s” by @toruro

Fem!reader || smut, angst || W.C: 15.8k+

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when your ex-best friend breaks up with your other ex-best friend, you’re stuck between keeping this door (that you never wanted closed) shut tight, and making amends. naturally, choosing to let your heart open to the person who ripped it apart isn’t the easiest of decisions, but then again, life has a funny way of making you choose.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Terrifyingly Innocent” by @twogyuu

[Series] || Fem!reader || uni au, older brother's best friend, fluff, angst, fake dating, slowburn || Parts: 19 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Fearful of losing her, yet unwilling to leave; this agreement between Seungcheol and his best friend’s little sister was meant to be casual and temporary, yet he finds himself growing more attached to her day by day.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“To Boil A Frog” by @seungkwansphd

Childhood acquaintances to lovers, brother's best friend, slowburn, romance || W.C: 15.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you & cheol go back, like way back. growing up together, you never felt anything more for him than a proximity based fondness, but things are a little different since you moved back to town.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Heartbreak Girl” by @nevernonline

Fem!reader || friends to lovers, suggestive || W.C: 8.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Seungcheol struggles with his feelings for his best friend, y/n, who is caught in a complicated relationship. As he watches her suffer from heartbreak, he finds it increasingly difficult to conceal his love for her.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Somebody” by @onlymingyus

Fem!reader || single dad au, fake dating, smut, fluff, angst, romance || W.C: 25.2k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･When you need someone to help you out of a bind quickly, you pick the first person you see to be your “boyfriend”, you just didn’t expect it to be your single hot dad neighbor, Choi Seungcheol…

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Cherrybomb” by @daechwitatamic

Afab!reader || Pacific rim au, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff || W.C: 19.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Willow” by @cherriegyuu

[Series] || Fem!reader || marriage of convenience, angst, fluff || Parts: 3 || Total W.C: 15.6k || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[dcxdpdabbles]

Master Posts Links

All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:

Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.

One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.

Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)

Master Post 1 Link

Master Post 2 Link

Master Post 3 Link

Completed AUs Master Post Link

NSFW (+18 ) Link

Please read the indexes to determine which master post each au is filed in.

As of 12/25/2024: The newest stuff is inside of Master Post 3.

Updated as of 03/18/2025: Stop on Requests: Starstruck: Part 1

MASTER POST 1 INDEX:

Multi-parts:

The Royal Consort,

Child Support

Phantom's Number 1 fan

Danny and The Fan Blog

Congratulations! It's Triplets!:

Ghost King Summon dare

The Dauntless Matchmaker

Demon and Angel Brat

Single Dad

Jason's Doll

Misplace Baby

One-shots:

The Assistant

The Ghost Trio's Food Trip

Legal Compensation

Love Among Fans

Lex Luther's Youngest

The Infinite Realms Hobby Store:

Obsession Runs in the Family

Farm Hand

Vague Threats

Game of Deadly Love

Retired-Rouge

The Real Blood Son

The Kid of Candles

Magic Older Brother

Keep The God Kid Busy!

Dog walker

Clockwork's Cookbook

Respawn and Relive

The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King

Finders Keeper

What's the rule again?

The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Big Fish in Gotham Pond:

Immunity system:

Wrong Number:

Timeline Prevention Squad

Requests

The Masters are Aliens

Ghost Zone Read

Red Hood's Snow

Jason Sees Dead People

Ghost Dad

Wayne Manor Ghost

The Siren of Iceberg Lounge

The Orginal

The Ghost King's Fibs

Red ParentHood

Woo thy Butler, My Lord

Double Vision

Dealeyed Soulmates

Rescue Mission

Danny's Online Persona

Practice makes perfect

MASTER POST 2 INDEX:

Multi-Parts

Cass the Halfa

Danny's Grill

The Audit

Why Ten?

Cluster of Cores

Demon Head Slightly to the left

Danny Fenton's Ex

New Management

Billy's Parents

Phone a friend

Super Robin

Cassandra's Curse in Gotham

The Summoned Demon

Marriage Trap the Office Supplier!

It's all Fun and Games Kids!

The cinnamon roll's son

One-Shots

Red Yummy

Professional Protector of Love

The Backroads

In 30 Minutes or less

One hell of a good bellhop

Corporate Rivals

Rude Kryptonian

Ecto-Specialist

Side Hustle

Copyright

Love at first (club) meeting

Catnip for heroes

Old Friends

Danny the Nanny

Lights and Camera

Hot Wings

The ones who got away

Vanishing Bookstore

Petal to the metal

Lover Boy

PenPal

Fishbowl Bones

Unwanted House Guest

The Roommate

Missing Half

Danny's Did you Know?

Yeti's orders.

Who's Child is this?

Requests

Batman with a gun's lover

IRS's boogie man

Dear Elder Brother's mistakes

The Undead Florist

Pit's Merman

Dullahan is my roomate

Nightowl Appartement

The one with Sunset Hair

The Cinnamon Roll's son

The lost In-Laws

The Lady and The Dad

Big Brother does not approve

Gotham's star and Shadow

Pride in Gotham

Revenant Prompt

The King and his Not-Knight

Contestant Number 3

The Lost son of the Bat

AroAce Danny

Extended Family

Master Post 3 Index

Mult-parts

Passion for Fashion

Alley Boyfriends

Mr. Flavor

Freelance Inventor

One-shots

You ARE the father

The Good Luck Charm

To be Human Again

Travel Buddy

Shift

A little bit of Home

New Money

Beyond the Grave

Lex Luthor's annoyance

Die with a smile

Cold Case

Online Siren

The End and the Beginning

Damian's (not) real friend

Family Bonding

Gotham Gossip

The old Switcharoo

A Pen Pal's Duty

Gamer Boy

Request

Access Granted

Skulker's Past

Surviving Babysitting

The Twins

Echo's Dad

The Artifact Repair Man

Flip of A coin

New Neighbors

Over and Over again

The West Wing

Never the Bride

The Masters Boy

Starstruck

COMPLETED AUS MASTER POST INDEX

The Bakery is a Front!....right?

Cave Boy

The Adoptive Son

Alfred's Boy