#an old brush that id forgotten about

[lorax-ascending]

testing out a new brush

[lemonynuggets]

if I wanted a hyphen last name, would you mind the cadence?

[shiorimakibawrites]

The Accident (Part I of Happy Little Accident)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7, 368 Summary: You tripped in the elevator and covered your neighbor in paint. Your ridiculously hot neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. Warning(s): Anxiety, Female Gaze, Referenced Sex, Referenced Character Death, Reference to assumed Attempted Murder, Thoughts about sex Happy Little Accident Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. EDIT: Cleaned up some typos.

The Accident

You were painting in Central Park when your phone rang. You let out an irritated huff as you fished your phone out of your apron’s pocket and looked at the caller ID. Abby, your boss at the Daily Grind. It was tempting to ignore the call, pretend like you had forgotten your phone. Very tempting. It was a lovely spring day, one you would much rather spend painting than working. But in the end the knowledge that Abby wasn’t prone to bothering her employees during their off hours without a good reason had you accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Abby said, sounding apologetic. “Can you cover for the afternoon shift today? Peter is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!” you repeated, feeling immediately concerned. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Peter was one of the cafe’s newer employees. You didn’t know him very well yet but he seemed like a nice kid. If a little absentminded, given how often he arrived for his shift at a rush. And possibly even more clumsy than you are since you had often seen him with bruises which he claimed were the results of tripping over things.

Assuming he wasn’t lying about how he had gotten hurt. Which you thought that he was . . . some of those injuries didn’t look like they had came from a fall . . . It worried you. It worried others at the cafe too. Abby wasn’t usually so forgiving of such frequent tardiness and absences.

“He got hit by a car. Claims that he’s only got minor injuries but the hospital doesn’t want to discharge him without running some tests first. So can you come in today?”

You suppressed the urge to sigh. You didn’t want to send the wrong message. Because you weren’t actually annoyed with Abby or Peter but the situation. These things happen. Sometimes people got hurt or got sick. And when they did, someone didn’t get their day off. Today was simply your turn.

And well . . . it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the money.

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your apron before starting to gather up your things. Your newly acquired shift started at three. It was only a little after noon, plenty of time to get back to your apartment and get ready, but you didn’t like to rush. Rushing tended to make you even more of a klutz.

You swirled the used brushes in the water jar, trying to get as much paint off of your brushes before rolling them in a small towel. A second towel, already stained with old paint, was used to wrap up your palette. The paint was thrown back into their carrying box. Which was technically a small tackle box but you had repurposed it for art supplies. The box went into the bottom of your tote bag along with the water jar, double checking that lid was screwed on tightly. You didn’t need to ruin another sketchbook. You squeezed your current sketchbook behind the tackle box. Next went your pencil case, followed by the towels and their respective cargo. Now the only thing left was your painting and the portable easel.

You removed the painting from the easel, careful to avoid the spots where the paint had spilled over onto the tacking edge. Your fingers already had enough paint on them. The painting was propped against a tree, fingers crossed for two things. One that the wind wouldn’t pick up and send your painting flying. And two, a police officer wouldn’t start yelling at you for it. You didn’t think using the tree as a momentary support while you packed up violated any park rules but you weren’t entirely sure. You had read the park rules but they were written like a legal document . . . which it probably was . . . but that made you feel like you probably weren’t understanding it right. After all, you weren’t a lawyer.

Luck seemed to be with you. You were able to get the easel broken down and put away without incident. You swung your bag into your shoulder before picking up your painting. After making sure you had a good grip on the stretcher and the tacking edge, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Then you started making your way home.

Your lucky streak continued. You didn’t drop anything. No one dumped into the wet canvas or you while you were walking. The subway was busy as usual but not packed to the gills. Your feet resisted the urge to get tangled up in some random piece of debris. Or your own feet. Or the absolutely nothing that you somehow managed to trip over sometimes . . .

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was too good to last.

Things began to go awry when you were waiting for the elevator to arrive. You looked down and saw a tube of paint in your aprons�� pockets instead of the tackle box where it belonged. Normally, you’d shrug and try to remember to put it away later but it looked like the cap hadn’t been screwed back on correctly. Your frown deepened after you transferred your painting to one hand and realized that the cap was loose. Loose enough that it was a minor miracle that it hadn’t fallen off somewhere between the park and here . . . you hoped the paint hadn’t gotten dried out . . .

You heard the elevator dings its arrival as you pulled the paint out of your pocket. Trying to one-handedly shift the tube so its cap could be gripped between your fingers and twisted close, you didn’t look when you heard the elevator door slide open. You just moved forward. And immediately tripped over . . . something . . . you had no idea what.

You just knew that you were falling, that you had lost your grip on your painting as your hands instinctively rose to protect your head from the oncoming impact. An impact that never came. Someone caught you before you could hit the floor. Unfortunately the hand holding the paint had squeezed down, spraying paint on yourself and the chest of your rescuer.

It was like a train wreck. You didn’t want to look but you also couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You stared in horror at the giant splash in the middle, the magenta color of the paint shockingly bright against the light gray suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie . . . Your eyes darted to the array of smaller droplets that radiated outward like shrapnel . . . you raised your eyes with the growing dread. Because you recognized that suit and tie, that broad chest . . .

Sure enough, when you looked up, you were greeted with the very surprised face of Matt Murdock. You felt your heart sink. Of course it was Matt. It couldn’t have been someone else. Anyone else. Preferably a random stranger that you would never see again. But no . . . it had to be your neighbor. It had to the man you had developed an enormous crush on.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. You wanted to cry. Matt returning your feelings had always been a long shot . . . but now? There was no chance. You had turned out of his nice suits into a terrible Jackson Pollock . . . you were going to be lucky if he ever talked to you again . . .

You don’t know when you started apologizing. One minute, you were frozen in humiliated shock, the next increasingly frantic words started spilling out of your mouth. What words you couldn’t say. You couldn’t hear anything past your heart pounding in your ears . . .

A hand cupping your cheek was so startling that it immediately pierced the panic clouding your mind. Big, warm hand . . . you blinked and realized that someone was speaking to you. A familiar deep, soft-spoken voice . . .

“. . . shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Sweetheart?! You could hardly believe your own ears. But that was definitely Matt’s voice, his face that you were looking at, and those oh-so-kissable lips were moving . . .

This wasn’t the first time that Matt had called you sweetheart. He had been doing that since the first time you meet. If literally running into someone counts as meeting them. You would like to say no but it wasn’t like your second encounter with your then new neighbor had gone much better. You weren’t always a klutz around him but your bouts of clumsiness did occurred around him with embarrassing regularity.

And provided he was nearby when it happened, Matt always caught you when you started falling . . . so finding yourself in his arms also happened on a regular basis.

This had some upsides. For one, it gave you an appreciation for how much muscle must be hiding under those suits of his. Because he never had any trouble catching you or helping you get back onto your own feet. There was something very hot about the way he could lift you up like you weighted nothing. For another, he is very warm. Which had been especially nice during the recent autumn and winter months. And he smelled good. Like plain soap, ink, paper, and something woodsy like sandalwood with fainter notes of leather, cooper, and something else familiar but that you couldn’t quite remember what it was or where you had smelled it.

On the downside, you were never in his arms for very long. Certainly not long enough to really enjoy being held by those strong arms. He’d catch you, make sure you were steady on your feet again, then his arms would slide away and he stepped back. Taking all of his warmth and good smells with him. Which was always a little disappointing even if you did appreciated that he didn’t assume that he had permission to hold you longer than was absolutely necessary. And that he didn’t use those moments as an excuse to get handsy. Which you knew some people would have.

Further on the downside, being in his arms for any length of time made it very hard to pretend that he didn’t get you all hot and bothered. That having his warm breath brush against your neck and ear when he said something like ‘Careful, sweetheart’ didn’t make the skin there prickle and the rest of you shudder. Or, last week, when your shirt had gotten ridden up, that feeling those callused fingers against your bare skin didn’t make you shiver. Or the absolute worst, when you had to act like you hadn’t just been touching yourself while fantasizing about him, that you hadn’t just been moaning his name, that being in his arms hadn’t renewed the heat between your legs . . .

Those moments, it was really difficult to stop yourself from doing something crazy. Like ask him if you can find out if those pouty lips are soft as they looked . . . or if how much of that beautiful ass you could fit in your hands . . .

You suppressed the urge to groan. Serena, your best friend in the world, was right. You needed to get laid. Because even at the most embarrassing moments of your life, when you were half-considering changing your name and moving somewhere far away, you still couldn’t keep your mind out of the gutter.

Your imagination was out of control. It kept trying to convince you of the wildest things. Like that there was something more to the way his fingers had rubbed that little sliver of bare skin last week than just some mild curiosity when his hands didn’t encounter the expected shirt material. Or those tightening grips on your waist was anything other than making sure he wasn’t about to drop you. Those moments when his voice went deeper and huskier weren’t due to attraction but Matt was obviously coming down with a cold or something.

You ignored the grumbling inner voice that pointed out, aside from when he had the misfortune to get stuck in the elevator with that guy from the third floor who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, you had yet to see Matt so much as sneeze. Or that none of those moments had overlapped with the times Matt had looked ill – tired and moving like his body ached.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up. Matt was way out of your league. So far out that you weren’t even playing the same sport. He was incredibly good-looking, easily one of the most handsome men you had ever meet. You were the textbook definition of Plain Jane. Not ugly but not beautiful either. He was confident, outgoing, and charming. You were anxious, shy, and awkward. He was a lawyer with a successful law firm. You were an artist whose work didn’t sell well enough to make a living off of it. Hence the waitress/barista job at the Daily Grind.

Maybe not the most sensible job choice for a shy klutz but there were only so many options for someone with an art degree. Plus you had been working there since college and Abby had displayed remarkable patience for your clumsiness (and the periodic broken dishes that went with it). Mostly because you were otherwise reliable. And while you would never enjoy making small talk with strangers, you could do with a smile. It helped the majority of the regulars were nice . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Any blood that managed to drain out of your cheeks immediately flooded back. You were really batting a thousand today. First you spray him with paint, then you babble incoherently at him, then you stand there like a moron ignoring him for god only knew how long. If Matt didn’t already think you were awkward and weird, he certainly did now.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure of what to say.

He smiled at you. That sweet one that seemed . . . .dare you say it? . . . fond? Which did nothing to diminish the flush in your face. Neither did the little circles his thumb was rubbing into your right cheek or the reassuring squeeze from the hand at your waist.

He’s just trying to keep me calm, you told yourself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He just didn’t need you panicking again. Lawyers are busy people. He probably had things to do and didn’t want to waste anymore time on you.

“And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not going to sue you.”

You had actually said that? Out loud? You closed your eyes and let out a low groan. Everytime you think this situation couldn’t get more embarrassing . . . that idea of moving some remote mountain which hopefully had no insanely hot lawyers living on it was sounding better and better. The only thing thing that would have been worse was if your word-vomit had decided to detail just how attractive you found him. Then, in addition to everything else today, you’d have to listen to him say ‘I’m flattered but . . .’ while your heart shattered into a million pieces . . .

“Sorry,” you repeated. Because what else you could you say to something like that?

“No need to apologize again, sweetheart,” he said as his hand slide off of your face before joining its fellow in helping you get back on your own feet. Then, as usual, his arms pulled away entirely and he took a small step back. As usual, you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed or felt colder. Both were a lie.

“It was an accident,” he continued. “You said you were sorry. No harm done.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering around his suit. The mess hadn’t miraculously disappeared. It was still here.

“No harm?” you repeated. “You’ve got magenta splattered all over your suit!”

“Which one is magenta?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I remember what magenta looks like,” Matt said, sounding thoughtful. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Er . . . pink?” you said, trying to think of how to describe it. “This particular shade is darker than bubblegum, more purplish-red? Like some plums just under the skin or a pomegranate?”

“Sounds pretty,” he said. “Foggy has been telling me that I need to wear more color.”

“I think he probably meant new clothes that are different colors, not paint splattered on your existing clothes,” you said slowly, unsure of what to make of this conversation. It was not turning out at all like you would have expected it to.

He grinned. “Most likely but he never actually said clothes. Just more color. He knows better than to leave the terms of a contract that vague.”

While you didn’t know Foggy Nelson very well, you had the feeling he would not be impressed. You had also seem him and Matt needling each other at Josie’s often enough to picture the irritated look he would level at his partner if he returned to work looking like this and tried to make that argument. The image was so absurd that you had to giggle.

“Not sure that is a winning argument, Mr. Murdock,” you said,

“Sure it is,” he said. “Any ambiguity in a contract favors the party that didn’t write it. Foggy wrote the contract without defining his terms. So I am free to interpret those terms as anyone might reasonably expect them to mean.”

Which only made you giggle even harder. He was being so silly. “It’s not very professional?”

“Regretfully, I have to agree,” he said, sounding almost like he genuinely disappointed about that. Provided you couldn’t see the cheeky grin on his face. “Will I need anything special to remove the paint?”

“No,” you said, silently thanking Past You for choosing to work with acrylics today instead of oils. The faded spots the turpentine would leave would be less noticeable than magenta but still probably not something he wanted. Also even the low-odor version didn’t smell good. You didn’t know if there was any truth to that whole ‘blind people’s other senses get stronger’ thing but real or not, Matt seemed to have a pretty sensitive nose. “Acrylics are water-based. As long as it is still wet, warm water and soap is enough.”

“See? No harm done,” he said, giving that flirty smile that always made your heart go pitter-patter. Even when you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. Matt was a charming guy who flirted a little with everyone. You had seem him get a little flirty with Mrs. Gonzales, the third resident of the sixth floor. Who was, as she pointedly reminded him, old enough to be his grandmother and scolded him for shameless flattery. She had rolled her eyes a little when he retorted the truth wasn’t flattery but did seem pleased. Pleased enough to make him tamales. Which honestly made you a little jealous. The tamales you had bought from her during the holidays had been really good . . .

Serena thought Matt wasn’t flirting with you just to flirt. That he actually liked you. But she was your best friend. It was her job to believe that you were wonderful and agree that the hot guy you had a crush on was into you. And if it turned out that he wasn’t . . . well, then he was an idiot who wasn’t worth your time. You wanted to believe her . . . you wanted that to true so badly . . .

But you had seen the women Matt used to bring home. And the ones who flirted with him at Josie’s. Beautiful, self-assured women with successful careers. They were everything that you weren’t. Granted, you hadn’t seen one of his paramours leaving or arriving at the building for a while. And the only ones you had seen him leaving Josie’s with lately were his friends.

Or you. Which you refused to read anything into either. Matt just didn’t think you walking home alone at night was safe. And it wasn’t. The Kitchen might have Daredevil, its guardian in red leather, but he couldn’t be everywhere. Couldn’t save everyone through if the rumors were to be believed, it certainly seemed like he tried.

The point was that Matt would the same thing for anyone. Even someone who really didn’t need it. Like Jessica Jones. Through he claimed that was just to save himself or Foggy from needing to make another late-night trip to the police station because she had punched some creep into a wall. While he agreed that yes, they deserved it for treating someone like that but the police didn’t see that way, Jessica . . .

Regardless of his reason, you always ended up agreeing because you were too weak to say no to spending just a little more time with him. And it wasn’t like you were making him go out of his way since you both lived in the same building . . .

“As long as it’s still wet,” you repeated. “It’s harder to remove once its’ dry.”

“How does that take?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good thing I’m so close to home then.” Then he seemed to hesitate. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Absolutely,” you said, cringing a little at how eager you sounded. But you had gotten paint all over him. A favor was the least you could do.

“Can you help me get this cleaned up?” he said, gesturing toward the paint. He gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Otherwise I might miss a spot.”

“I can do that,” you said. You had been intending to offer help anyway. You had made the mess. You should help clean it up.

He frowned suddenly, his head tilting to one side. “Are you sure? I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t need to be at work until three and it’s . . .”

You tried to check the time on your watch but it had a smear of paint across the face. Unfortunately the hands were hidden by said smear of paint. “Probably not three.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Problem with your watch?”

“Paint is hiding the hands.”

He gave an amused grin as he ran his fingers around the edge of his watch. “The downside of wearing non-tactile watches. It’s a quarter til one.”

“Plenty of time,” you said. And even if it wasn’t . . . Abby was a reasonable person. She would completely understand not leaving any neighbor, let alone your blind neighbor, to clean this up.

He smiled before reaching down to pick up his fallen cane. You felt your face get warm again. Both because you just realized what you had gotten tripped over (which made you feel like a jerk) and because that action had pulled those trousers taut over his ass (which made you feel . . . other things). But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. Not when you had a front row seat to one of the best asses in America. Possibly the world.

Matt couldn’t possibly know that you were checking out his ass but that smug little smirk that he flashed in your direction made you feel like he did. You averted your eyes and tried to find a distraction. Before thinking about his ass (or other body parts) got you worked up. More worked up. Which not only would be awkward but make you nervous and prone to say something embarrassing.

Then you remembered your painting. You had dropped it earlier. Where was . . . you let out a distressed groan as you picked it up. The good news was that your painting hadn’t landed paint-side down. Which had saved the mostly dried paint from smearing or chipping. The bad news that hadn’t escaped The Magenta. It didn’t get hit as nearly badly as Matt but there was still a giant splat right in the middle of the lake . . .

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a giant glob of magenta in the middle of the lake,” you said.

“The lake?”

“In my painting,” you said. “I was doing one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Maybe,” you said, looking at the mess and trying to think of how to incorporate the random splatters into the image. You could remove some of it without taking off the underlying layers but not all of it. That would have to be incorporated somehow . . . Maybe a boat? Or a float . . . some of the smaller ones could be turned into leaves if you switched the setting to autumn just as the leaves were turning . . . or a flowering tree with pink blossoms . . .

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents,” you reminded your inner perfectionist.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It’s something Bob Ross said a lot,” you said. “He was–”

“That guy on PBS who painted the landscapes?” Matt said. “Soft-spoken, sometimes had a squirrel in his pocket and talked about happy trees?”

“That’s the one,” you said. “The Joy of Painting. I watched it religiously as a kid. How about you?”

An odd little smile spread across Matt’s face. “Not often enough to qualify as religious but you could call us regular watchers. My dad wasn’t much of an art guy but he found the show relaxing . . . and it was quiet. I could turn it on in the morning without waking him up after he had worked late.”

He sounded nostalgic, like these were fond memories but also deeply sad. Then you remembered that Matt’s father was dead. Killed when he was a little boy. Which you only knew about because you had once given into temptation and googled Matt Murdock. Most of the search results had been about his law firm and the Castle trial but further down the page, articles about the accident that blinded him and his father’s death had also appeared. But by then, you had felt guilty enough about snooping into his life that you hadn’t read any those of articles beyond their headlines.

“Did you ever try to follow along?” you asked softly.

“A few times with the watercolors from my school supplies,” he said. “I was terrible at it but my dad hung up every picture on the fridge like it was the Mona Lisa.”

“Mine did that too,” you said. “My mom might still have a few of them tucked away with the baby pictures, waiting to embarrass me with them.”

He chuckled. “Did you ever fall asleep watching the show?”

You laughed. “Yes. Usually after I had stayed up too late reading.”

“Same,” he said, then gestured to the control panel. “Shall we go up?”

“Yes, we shall,” you said, a little amazed at how well this was going, despite the mishap. And that the elevator had remained here at the ground floor for this long. Probably it was the middle of the day and therefore most of the other tenants were either at work or school right now. As the elevator rose, you tried to think of something to talk about. You didn’t mind quiet but your earlier anxiety about his reaction had been replaced by your more usual nerves at being around the man you had spent almost half a year pining over.

Nervous You tended to be a chatterbox with chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Nervous You might blurt out that you liked him. Might detail how you wanted to go on dates, snuggle on the couch, hold hands while you took long walks, call each other by cliché nicknames like honey or dear. Basically be one of those disgustingly adorable couples . . . And behind closed doors, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that would leave you walking funny with a big smile on your face . . .

That thought alone made your cheeks warm. Among other places. Maybe work? Work should be a safe enough topic. Nothing naughty about work . . .

“What brings you home this early?” you asked, injecting as much cheer as possible in your voice to disguise your nerves. “Does no one need lawyering today?”

He chuckled. “No, we still have plenty of people who needed lawyering. I just forget my phone this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to retrieve it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as the elevator dinged your arrival to the sixth floor. The doors slide open and you walked out. Or rather you tried. But apparently you just had no luck with elevators today because you managed to slip on nothing. For the second time today, you started to fall. Only backwards this time.

And despite what happened the last time, Matt still caught you.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling the earlier flush to your cheeks deepen.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he said. “I like having a beautiful girl in my arms.”

Which only made the warmth in your face start to spread down your neck. Even if he didn’t meant it, it was nice to be told that you were beautiful. You couldn’t help liking it. You did your best to ignore the nasty voice in your head – the one that sounded a lot like those awful girls in high school who had bullied you – saying how would Matt even know that you were beautiful or not . . . he was blind . . .

Your more optimistic side – which sounded like Serena – pointed out that for obvious reasons, that Matt was unlikely to find someone attractive based solely on their appearance . . . so maybe he really did find you beautiful . . .

You blamed those pernicious thoughts for making you feel like there was hint of hesitation, of reluctance, in Matt’s hands as they slide back off of your waist once you were standing upright again. But not matter how many times you told yourself that it was just your overactive imagination . . . part of you couldn’t help but hope.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said as you followed him into his apartment. While he disappeared down a hallway, you propped your unfinished painting against a wall before slipping your tote off your shoulder with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t very heavy but those almost falls had jerked it and its contains around, making the straps dig into your shoulder. After sitting down the tote, you prodded the area. It was a little sore but it lacked the tenderness you associated with oncoming bruises.

You walked toward the kitchen and looked around, curious. In some respects, his apartment was a lot like yours. Both displayed the buildings’ previous life as factory in the exposed brick, scuffed hardwood floors, and visible HVAC and pipes. Both had large windows that let in a lot of natural light if even the old glass was a little wavy or different colored. Both had galley-style kitchens and generally open floor plan. Both of you seemed to have opted for a mismatched collection of secondhand furniture in either earth tones or neutral colors. But that was where the similarities ended.

The first and most noticeable difference was size. His was a lot bigger than yours. Which honestly you had expected, knowing very well that your side of the sixth floor had been turned into two units whereas his was left as one. Yours didn’t have access to the roof but in all honesty, you were fine with that. You weren’t afraid of high places in and of themselves but you were afraid of falling from high places. The outside of your windows wasn’t dominated by The Billboard. Which even during the day looked rather bright.

Matt’s apartment struck you as unfinished, like there was something missing but it took you a moment to figure out what. There was nothing decorative. The walls were bare and furniture were bare. It was sharp contrast to your place where the walls had been turned into a gallery for your unsold paintings and the furniture was festooned with the efforts of Serena’s knitting or your embroidery. You wondered if this was due to preference (Matt was simply a minimalist who considered decorative items to be annoying clutter) or to circumstance (Matt hadn’t found anything that he liked yet).

Another difference was the level of tidiness. You weren’t outright messy. You cleaned up after yourself. But there was always a certain amount of controlled chaos. For example, you were just as likely to find your pincushion and scissors on the kitchen table as in the sewing bag where they belonged. Or how your books often ended up stacked on the floor by your reading chair instead of being put back on the bookshelf.

Matt’s place, by contrast, looked very well organized. Everything obviously had a place and was always returned to its spot when not in use. Which made sense when you thought about it. No one wanted to go on a scavenger hunt every time they needed something. And given how busy Matt was, he also didn’t have time to be doing that.

Plus there were things that no one would want to get mixed up. Like grabbing the shampoo bottle when you wanted the mouthwash. Yes, there were other things that would clue him in before he inadvertently washed out his own mouth with soap. But, as your grandmother liked to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

“Will any soap work?”

You jumped at a little at Matt’s voice. He sounded close. Much closer than you would have thought he could get to you without you noticing. Especially on these old hardwood floors which had so many places that creaked or groaned when stepped on.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s . . .” you started as you turned toward the sound of his voice. And promptly felt your intended words get tangled up in your throat. Your heart began to race as blood rushed back to your cheeks at the sight before you.

Your eyes greedily took in his broad shoulders, then down arms so thick that you doubted that you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it. Back up and across to the well-defined pectorals, then down through to sculpted abdominals until they disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. All covered in a skin that looked like it was as soft as satin.

You swallowed hard. You had known for a while that Matt had some muscle. He had saved you from your own clumsiness too often for you not to know that. But this . . . you had no idea he was hiding all this under those fancy suits of his . . . It was like someone had brought the statue of a Greek god or Michelangelo’s David to life . . . and then someone had apparently convinced him to put on pants. Whoever that idiot was should be fired . . . because if the rest of him looked this good . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Once again, you jumped at his voice. You raised your eyes up to his face. Your breath caught for the second time. Because Matt wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. You had never seen him without those glasses. Predictably, his eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him. Big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement and confidence. It matched that cocky little smirk he was sporting. The same one he had given you earlier. Only this time, you were positive that he knew that you were staring.

But it was so hard not to . . . he was so beautiful . . . it filled with you competing urges. The artist longed for your drawing pencils and a couple of hours to sketch. You weren’t sure you had the talent to fully capture his beauty but you would love to try. The woman, however, wanted him to fuck you. For him be inside you. Cock, fingers, tongue . . . your cunt didn’t care which. Any or all of them would do.

Watching that pink tongue dart out from between those oh-so-kissable lips before disappearing back inside his mouth did nothing to quell your arousal. Nor did the almost hungry look in his eyes. All it did was make you think about all things a man could do with his tongue if he was so inclined . . .

You dug your hands into your jeans to keep them to yourself. Silently you reminded yourself why you had to control the later impulse. First – Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your neighbor and maybe a friend. Second – even if you were his lover and consented to having sex, neither of you had time today. He needed to go back to his office and you had to be the cafe at three. Abby would understand you being late because you were helping Matt clean up The Magenta. She would be far less sympathetic toward hanky-panky induced tardiness. So as much as you would like him to bend you over his kitchen table, you had to ignore that particular desire.

As for the artistic urge . . . since he didn’t seem to hate you for The Magenta, maybe he would agree to model for you? And you were friends of a sort. Friends could ask friends to model for them, right?

“L-liquid soap,” you said, doing your best to sound normal instead of incredibly turned on. “I-I found it easier to work with when cleaning up paint.”

Matt didn’t look like he was convinced by your non-existent acting skills. But he went along with the change of subject. Then gave you another heart attack by revealing that his shirt and tie were silk while his jacket was wool with a silk lining. You had no idea how to clean paint off of those without damaging them . . . isn’t stuff like that dry clean only?

The answer was yes and no. The shirt was made of a type of washable silk that he could launder at home – on the gentle cycle with mild soap. The suit and the tie, however, were both dry clean only. But Matt knew how to prevent stains from getting set in his fancy clothes and you knew how to handle paint. Between the two of you, you worked a plan that should get the paint off while preventing damage to his clothes.

Using an old gift card that you used as a painting tool as a scrapper, you removed the bulk of the paint from the tie and jacket while Matt used his bottle of liquid dish-soap and water to wash his shirt in the sink. Then, you dampened a white washcloth with lukewarm water, added a tiny amount of the soap, before dabbing the affected areas. Before dabbing again with a separate cloth that was just dampened with water, then carefully blotting with another washcloth that was completely dry.

You tried to keep your mind on the task in front of you but kept getting distracted. By his . . . everything. You wanted to trace every muscle with your fingers. Or your tongue. Either would be enjoyable. Or both. Both was good . . . the only thing that wasn’t making you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache in your cunt were the scars.

Not because you thought his scars were ugly. The scars were like kintsugi. The healed but visible damage made the person more beautiful, not less. But because the scars worried you. It looked like someone had tried very hard to kill Matt.

You hadn’t realized that being a lawyer was so dangerous . . . but then, Nelson & Murdock had gone up against some powerful people. People like Fisk. Had Fisk or someone like him sent someone after Matt? You glanced at his hands. He had the same calluses on his knuckles as your ex who was a boxer. Did Matt know how to box? Was that how he had survived the obvious attempt on his life?

You were curious but realized that some of the answers you wanted might require a lengthy conversation. Which you didn’t have time for. Assuming Matt was even willing to answer those questions. He might not be. Which was fine. Trauma was rather personal and you didn’t really know each other.

You returned to your task. Despite your frequent distraction, soon the clothes were cleaned to the best of your ability. All three items were hung on hangers to dry in the case of the shirt or await a trip to the dry cleaners for the other two. Something that you offered to pay for.

“No need for you to do that, sweetheart. It’s about time for that suit to go to the cleaners anyway.”

“But it’s my mess,” you protested.

You didn’t win the argument. But it wasn’t a fair fight. First, he was a lawyer. He argued with people for a living. You painted or served food and drinks. Second, he still hadn’t put on a shirt. It was very distracting. And he knew it. His opposition in court was so lucky that he had to keep all his clothes on in the courtroom. Otherwise, they’d might never win.

“Stupid, sexy Murdock,” you muttered quietly under your breath as you washed your brushes and palette. Not quietly enough because he laughed.

“I’m sexy?” Matt asked. Warmth flooded your face. Judging by that cocky smirk, he knew the answer to that question. Yes, absolutely yes. But you were absolutely not going to say that.

“I plead the Fifth,” you said. Which only made him laugh harder.

He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, when his phone started ringing out, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said.

“Go ahead,” you said quickly.

He flashed you a smile before answering his phone with a “What’s up, Fogs?”

You put away your things while Matt talked to his partner. From the sound of it, he was explaining why retrieving his phone was taking so long. A check on your watch – now cleaned of paint – warned you that you really needed to leave now if you wanted to be ready for work on time. You swung your tote up onto your shoulder.

Then found yourself in a quandary. It was rude to interrupt someone while they were on the phone but it was also rude to leave without saying good-bye. But it wasn’t like you could go just wave good-bye.

“Matt?” you called out.

“Hang on Foggy,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got to go,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t.”

For a moment, that answer confused you. But only for a moment. Blind joke. Not the first one he had made around you. It wouldn’t be the last. He seemed rather fond of them. Well, it was his disability. It certainly wasn’t your place to tell him that he couldn’t make jokes about it if he wanted to.

Besides sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he made them were very funny.

“Left myself wide open for that one, didn’t I?” you said.

“Yep,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “But yes, I’ll see you later.”

That made you smile. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said before returning to his phone call. You closed the door to his apartment as quietly as you could, then made you way across the hall toward your own apartment. Time get for work.

Step one – a cold shower.

Notes

There are portable easels that are designed to be collapsed down and easily carried. I have one. Some of them come with an attached box that is meant to carry paint, brushes, and whatever else you need but that type is more expensive (about 70 dollars on the cheaper end) than one that is just the easel (which is about 20). Reader has a limited art budget and those fifty bucks she didn’t spent on an easel can buy a lot of paint and canvas.

I’ve found that tackle boxes and tool boxes make great carrying cases for arts and crafts supplies. The divided trays are very useful if the creative thing you are doing involves a lot of little pieces or tools like beading or jewelry making.

Reader took the subway for part of her journey because, according to what I could find, getting from Hell’s Kitchen to Central Park via subway takes about 14 minutes while walking that same distance would take about 40 minutes. So the subway it was.

Magenta is, generally speaking, purplish red color. The shades vary between more pink, more red, or more purple. Even paint doesn’t always agree. I have one set on acrylic paints that labels a color as ‘light magenta’ while a different set calls the same color ‘magenta’ and third just says ‘pink.’

Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) was an American artist who was part of the abstract expressionist movement. He is best known for his ‘drip’ technique where he would pour or splash liquid house-paint with frenetic movement onto the canvas which was laying flat on the floor. In some ways, his work reminds me of acrylic pouring which looks very cool but also very messy.

I mean no disrespect to those with an art degree. I started off majoring in fine arts and part of me wishes that I had stuck with it despite the challenges. One of my professors recommended getting your masters if you were going to major in art simply because then you could get teaching jobs in many places.

That contract thing is true but I’m not a lawyer and have never taken Contracts 101. Always get your legal advice from actual lawyers.

Turpentine is used to clean paint brushes and other tools when using oil paint. A low odor version is highly recommended but remember to only use it in a well-ventilated place as the fumes are toxic. It is also very flammable. You can use it to get oil paint off of your skin but it is very drying and probably isn’t be safe to use on places like your face. The skin there easily absorbs things (which is the primary reason that make-up has go through FDA approval).

For the record, blind people don’t have better senses than everyone else. They just pay more attention to the information from their other senses provide, things that us sighted people tend to ignore. And arguably have more practice identifying different sounds, smells, etc than someone who largely ignores that input.

While I cannot say that this happens in NYC, as I have never lived there, where I grew up (American southwest) and where I live now (Florida), the grandmas and aunties in the Latin community make and sell tamales during the winter holiday season. Maybe for some extra spending money for said holidays. In my experience, they are always excellent. I almost don’t consider it Christmas without some tamales.

The reason Reader feels like a jerk for tripping over Matt’s cane is that messing with someone’s mobility aid and/or not giving them enough space to use it is a dick move.

The Bow Bridge is a bridge in Central Park. You have probably seen it before since it is pretty popular for movies and television. Probably because it looks perfect for your sappy romantic moments, dramatic love confession, meet-cutes, etc. It also helps that it looks just as nice surrounded by leafy trees as it does covered in snow.

Bob Ross (1942 – 1995) was an American painter who was the host of an instructional art show called The Joy of Painting, which aired from 1983 until 1994, on PBS (public broadcasting station) in the US but also in similar public stations around the world. You can find the episodes on YouTube.

According to the internet, you can spot clean wool, silk, and other such fabrics like how Reader does without damaging the fabric. But it was the internet so take that with a generous portion of salt.

Yes, I do use an old gift card when I paint. To make smallish straight lines, very handy for fences and rain effects. I cannot speak for every artist but my painting tools aren’t limited to brushes and painting knives.

Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that has been dusted or mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The point is not to hide the damage but highlight it, to treat the breakage and repair as simply part of the object’s history. And that having such a history makes it more valuable, not less.

[hellcheeriest]

i bet he's never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single Father!Steve

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: We begin to learn of Chrissy's struggle with her sexuality, Eddie makes a big decision in his career, Steve is a sick, sick man (only for eddie munson), platonic!Hellcheer my beloved!! Robin struggles with close proximity to the girl she likes.

Content warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26) Steve feels as though he's too old to be acting like he is (I know 31 isn't old! Steve just grew up too fast as a teen dad, so he feels like his mind is beyond his years.)

A/N: Second Chapter yay! I dont really have much to say other than the fact that i spent like 6 hours straight writing this while getting distracted, and i havent read through this so i apologize for any mistakes or innacuracies you may find. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 4,850+

January, 2023

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

Chrissy shivered as the cool, mid-winter air infiltrated her room. She’d forgotten to shut her window last night while she was cooking, and the goosebumps on her skin had her shivering with regret. Her radio whispered beside her, the volume purposefully low as to lul her to sleep, an unknown host forecasting the weather.

Chrissy pulled off her sleeping mask, her eyes still closed as she tried to wake fully, letting thoughts of last night's stream come to her. She smiled at the memories from just last night. Gareth and Robin’s banter, Austin’s quiet but witty remarks, Eddie and herself teaming up to embarrass an easily flustered Jeff.

Robin’s raspy laugh filled her foggy brain. The girl had been complaining, again, about how she lacked a girlfriend. It wasn't uncommon, their friend group was her only safe space as a queer person, the area she lived in being a prominently homophobic area.

It made Chrissy feel different, though. She’d known she had always admired the girl, from the top of her brown bob, to the bottom of her cherry red converse, there was nothing about Robin that Chrissy didn’t find she was unable to admire. She was funny, and she was pretty in a way Chrissy hadn’t ever seen or could even describe. She didn’t really know what that meant.

The couple times they’d been able to meet in person were the times when Chrissy admired Robin the most. Seeing her through her eyes first hand instead of through the lens of a camera. They were also the only times she could experience their height difference, Chrissy having to look up just to make eye contact.

Chrissy sighed heavily, bringing her sleep heavy arms up to rub at her eyes. Her alarm clock had gone off minutes ago now, luckily her online classes wouldn’t be disrupted if she slept in, but for her own sake she decided to get up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and startling when her phone began to ring from her bedside table. She groaned, grabbing it and sighing when she sees the caller ID.

“What do you want?” Chrissy grumbled.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Eddie laughed on the other line.

“You always catch me at a bad time.” She smiled despite her light hearted annoyance. “Back to my first question, what do you want?”

“Can you meet me at the diner today, or are you busy?” Eddie asked, breathless, and Chrissy could tell he was getting dressed as they spoke.

“I’m free. Nine o’clock?”

“Nine-thirty?”

“Even better.” Chrissy hummed. “See you then.”

“Bye, Chrissy.” Eddie replied, dragging out the words. Chrissy laughed and hung up, putting her phone back down on her night stand, spending another moment on her bed stretching before getting up.

She padded along the hardwood floor of her apartment to her bathroom. She did her skin care, brushed her teeth and hair, and pulled her russet hair into a ponytail with a white scrunchie. She used her finger to press on her signature blue eyeshadow, a few quick strokes of blush and mascara, and a dab of a pink lipstick covered with a cherry lip gloss.

Back in her bedroom, she stalked over to her closet to find her outfit. She went with an oversized and chunky white turtleneck sweater over a green satin skirt that reached the middle of her shin. She grabbed her black, shiny Mary Jane’s and put them on over her frilly, white socks.

Finally she topped off the outfit with her gold ‘16’ necklace, a graduation gift from her parents, before doing a one over of her outfit in the mirror. After confirming with herself that it was good, Chrissy turned around to look at her clock.

9:04AM.

Just enough time to drive to the diner Eddie wanted to meet at. It was across the city they both lived in, but it was Eddie’s favourite and he was paying, so she wouldn’t complain.

Chrissy picked up her phone again to see two new messages. One from Eddie and one from Robin.

Ed

ready when u r :)

Rob <3

morning chris!  Hope you have a good day <3

Chrissy felt her stomach turn as she read the second message, and she bit her lip as she sent a quick reply. She shoved down the warm feeling in her gut, and typed out a response to Eddie. After it was sent, she put her phone in the sleek pocket of her skirt, and grabbed her purse before she left her apartment. She took the elevator down to the first floor, waving “Hi,” to her neighbours before leaving the building. 

Chrissy got to her car and felt her phone buzz against her thigh, the custom notification sound letting her know it was Eddie, and she got in the driver's seat to begin the drive to the diner. 

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie stood outside of the diner, his hands in his pockets as the Chicago wind blew through his hair. His nerves made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his fingers fiddled with his rings. It only took minutes for Chrissy’s car to park in the spot in front of Eddie. She got out, and rushed over to Eddie to pull him down into a hug. Eddie laughed as her arms reached up and around his neck, letting his own wrap around her waist. They swayed back and forth for a moment before pulling away enough to press their cheeks together, making an audible “Mwah.”

“It feels like it’s been so long since I saw you in person last.” Chrissy whined as they pulled away completely, grabbing hands and walking into the diner.

“I know,” Eddie smiled down at her. “I missed you, too.”

They waited for a hostess to seat them, and as soon as they were led to a booth and finished ordering their drinks, they burst into conversation. They talked about anything they could, and Eddie found himself purposefully procrastinating the one thing he had partially asked Chrissy to come meet him for. Soon, after their waitress came by and took their order, they ran out of things to talk about, and Eddie knew it was time.

“So,” He started. “How do you think I’d go about… face revealing?” Eddie asked, almost timidly. Chrissy on the other hand was ecstatic.

“You want to face reveal?” She shrieked with a huge smile. Her joy was contagious, and Eddie could feel his own face break into a grin. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big deal about it.” Eddie hid his smile with a piece of hair.

“But it is a big deal! You finally want to show off that gorgeous face of yours!” Chrissy leant over the table to pinch Eddie’s cheeks to emphasise her words, sitting back down as the waitress returned with their food. Chrissy grabbed a hashbrown off of Eddie’s plate as he took one of her pieces of french toast. “It’s exciting!” She whispered.

“Okay, okay!” Eddie laughed as he cut into his pancakes. “I just… want it to be casual, I think, and I want you to be there.” He stabbed the piece he cut apart with his fork, and shovelled it into his mouth. Chrissy “Awe’d” and smiled with soft eyes at Eddie’s words.

“Well,” Chrissy started. “I guess we’ve got an important stream to plan.”

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Music blasted from the bathroom of Robin’s home. Chappell Roan’s Pink Pony Club could be heard all through the house. Inside, she was singing along as she pulled her eye down to put eyeliner on her waterline.

“Robin! Turn that down!” Her mother shouted and hit her fists against the bathroom door.

“God, Mom, Okay!” She shouted back, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her phone. She turned the volume down, and stared at her home screen. It was a picture of her and Chrissy they had gotten the week their whole friend group decided to meet up for the first time. Her hair was longer, being cut into a short bob now, and Chrissy’s hair was the opposite: shorter than her current length. They looked happy. 

Robin sighed as she pulled up her messenger, sending a quick good morning text to Chrissy before putting her phone back down on the counter.

Perhaps she’d been harbouring a crush on the blonde for a long time. Can you blame her? Chrissy was perfect in every way. She was beautiful, funny and devastatingly kind. She hadn't even changed how she acted around her when Robin came out! Which should be the bare minimum, Robin knows this. She just wasn’t used to the amount of acceptance her friends showed.

Only problem? Chrissy was definitely straight. She’d only ever talked about past boyfriends, and never expressed any romantic interest in women. Eddie would tell her not to lose hope, though that was often hard. Plus, she lived like a thousand miles away from each other. They’ve seen each other in person twice since they met four years ago, and long distance relationships almost never work out.

She shook her head to dispel any thought about the girl. She would be going shopping today after getting her paycheck. Working at an old, shitty, video rental store may suck, but it did pay well and she needed to feed her vinyl collection. Hopefully it would be enough to distract her.

STEVE HARRINGTON

“You, your sex is on fire.” Steve heard being sung from the TV. He recognized the voice as the streamer Dustin had taken such a liking to. Steve left his office and walked towards the living room and he could see the stream on the large screen. This time, it was live camera footage that showed a young blonde woman instead of the gameplay he was used to seeing. The man’s, Eddie’s, voice was actually really nice. It was husky and raspy, the clear tenor tone sending shivers down Steve’s spine. Steve leaned on the door frame as he watched and listened.

“The dark of the alley, the breaking of day.” Eddie continued.The girl in the camera seemed to be having a good time, swaying back and forth with the music. Occasionally, she would lay her head on the T-shirt clad shoulder next to her, and a heavily ringed hand would raise up and hold the side of her head.

“Are they dating?” Steve found himself asking. He mentally kicked himself. Why did he care if some random internet personalities were dating?

“Crap! Dad, you startled me!” Dustin clutched at his chest dramatically and Steve shook his head. “No, they’re just really good friends.” He turned down the volume of the TV and Steve came and sat on the couch next to his son.

“Oh, so like you and this Suzie I'm always hearing about?” Steve poked Dustin’s shoulder repeatedly until his son grabbed his wrist.

“Dad!” The boy exclaimed as he flushed red. He turned away and covered his face, and Steve smiled as he rubbed Dustin’s back. The light sound of the blonde girl laughing brought their attention back to the TV.

“Wow, Chris. I can’t believe you’d spread this propaganda about me.” The girl threw her head back and cackled. Steve remembered a ‘Chrissy’ that Dustin was talking about, this must be her. “She just referred to me as a ladies man as if I got any play in high school. I was a theatre kid, Cunningham, try again.”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I heard about you during lunch at the cheerleader’s table, Ed.” She reached over, past the camera's view and Steve guessed she was grabbing at Eddie’s head. “If they weren’t waiting for you to ask them out, you would’ve been drowning in bitches.”

“Hardy har har. Yeah, okay.” Two larger hands pushed smaller ones back into frame. “Anyways, guys. We have some big news!” The facecam turned off, and Steve felt Dustin tense next to him. “As some of you might’ve heard, they’re holding a convention in a smaller town in Indiana called Hawkins.

“So, we just wanted to let you all know that me, Chrissy, Robin and the guys are going to be there. So since you’re going to have to see me there, I figured I should…” Eddie’s voice got tense as he spoke, and then the camera turned back on. This time, though, it wasn’t the blonde girl. It was a man.

A man with dark, shoulder-length curls that were frizzy, but nevertheless striking. His skin was pale, and contrasted against the pink of his lips. His eyes were big, and a deep brown, dark enough to where Steve couldn't see a pupil. They were surrounded by long eyelashes and it seemed as though he was wearing eyeliner. The neckline of his shirt was cut and jagged, and exposed his prominent collar bones and the tattoo that lay inked into his skin. He was devastatingly pretty. He smiled, and turned to read the chat that was going a million miles a minute, all messages sharing feelings of shock and awe.

“Thanks, guys. Hoo-kay, I’m shaking. We’re okay, we’re okay.” Eddie pulled his hair behind his shoulders, revealing the plethora of piercings on both ears. “But, yeah. Next month from February twenty-sixth to March 2nd. I’ll be putting more information on my twitter, along with prices.” Chrissy came back into view. Behind Eddie, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Can’t wait to see you guys!” Chrissy exclaimed, and Eddie laughed as he reached up to grab her arms. Steve noticed they had matching bracelets.

“Keep a look out on instagram and twitter, photo dump coming soon.” The two waved at the camera, and sang out a long “Bye,” before they were gone and the stream was over. Steve and Dustin stayed frozen, and Steve knew Dustin was also in shock after seeing Eddie. 

Though they were in shock for two different reasons.

“Dad, they’re coming here for a convention! We have to go. Can we? Please?” Dustin pleaded and Steve thought for a moment.

“I’ll see what I can do, bud.” Steve answered and Dustin grinned before running to his room. Steve pulled out his phone and looked for Eddie’s twitter. When he clicked on the account, he found the link in his bio that led to the convention information, and when he scrolled down he found pictures already posted.

Most of them were group photos, with Chrissy, another girl almost the same height as Eddie, as well as three more guys Steve assumed were his other friends. He scrolled down further, and found a post-concert photo with Chrissy. They were both obviously worn out, and Steve found the drastic difference in the way they dressed funny. 

Eddie was all leather, and sharp edges, while Chrissy was pink and bubbly.

Steve internally scolded himself for the way his stomach churned when he found a particular photo of Eddie by himself. He was kneeling on a stage, a microphone in one hand, and the other holding the fingers of whoever took the photo. He wore a loose, black fishnet top over a black tank with torn up, black skinny jeans. His hair was messier than he’d seen in the other photos, and his face was slightly flushed in a way that suggested he was probably drunk. He smirked in a smug way that had Steve feeling as if he were a high schooler seeing his hallway crush. At the realisation, he quickly scrolled back to the top of profile and clicked the link, his face red. 

He shouldn't be feeling this way about some guy on a screen, much less a twenty-something year old. Steve should know better at his grown age.

He filled out his information, and when looking at the full price he sighed. He could already hear his wallet begging for mercy.

—

TIME SKIP

—

February 2023

EDDIE MUNSON

This was crazy.

Just a month ago did he live stream his face to the internet which sparked creativity in the artistic part of his group of fans. He was tagged in a bunch of drawing’s of him, as well as video edits to quite suggestive audios. It was strange, Eddie thought, to be praised like this for your appearance. But, if he was honest, he wasn't complaining.

Now, he was mentally preparing for the convention. Eddie wasn’t entirely a social person, he’d much rather be with his circle of friends and maybe a few others. This was an entirely different level. He sat on the bed in the hotel room he and Austin would be sharing. Jeff and Gareth were in the room across from them and Robin and Chrissy’s room were down the hall. The last pair excited Eddie.

Robin often confided in him when she was especially upset about her situation, and Eddie could sympathise. Falling for straight people was never fun. But, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure that Chrissy was straight. He never pressed her on the issue though. Poor girl. She’ll never know what hit her.

 Robin had been accidentally flirting with the girl since they arrived in Hawkins, and Eddie had to stifle laughter when it backfired. Robin would shoot him a glare and a lighthearted middle-finger.

Chrissy didn’t seem to catch on despite her array of ex-boyfriends that probably acted the same way around her before they dated. Though, Eddie guessed he couldn’t blame her. Robin’s attempts at flirting could be compared to the sight of a dumpster fire.

Eddie sighed and laid back on his bed, bored and left without anything to do. Not like he really wanted to do anything. Flying sucked, he hated aeroplanes and he was always left exhausted after taking one. 

But he was also insanely hungry. He could probably order in but he did not feel like talking over the phone and Hawkins seemed like a pretty old-fashioned town so god knows if any of the restaurants here have any apps he could use. Whatever. Eddie sighed before he walked over to the door and pulled on his converse and tucked the laces into the sides of his shoes. He grabbed his room key and left to try and find some damn lunch

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

She couldn’t do it.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the single bed that was in her and Robin’s shared room. She hadn’t seen Robin for a year and a half, and so far everything has been great! But Robin makes her nervous in ways she can’t explain. She didn’t have much more time to think as the door burst open to reveal the taller girl holding all of her bags in her arms and her phone in her mouth. She quickly dropped the bags and took her phone out of her mouth. She was completely out of breath as she reached into her pockets to pull out her inhaler.

“Oh my god, Robin!” Chrissy rushed over, picking up a couple of Robin's bags and bringing them further into the room.

“Hey, Chris.” Robin said, still exasperated, and her wispy tone made Chrissy shiver. She reached up and pulled Robin into a hug. “Missed you.” Robin whispered into Chrissy’s hair as she returned the embrace.

“You just saw me like, ten minutes ago!” Chrissy laughed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“I know.” Robin replied as she pulled away, still slightly out of breath.

“Did you run up here? What happened?”

“Apparently the elevator shut down after you guys got up here, so I had to take the stairwell with all my bags.” Robin whined as she walked over to the bed and flopped down onto the mattress. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed the fact there was only one bed, yet.

“Um, so,” Chrissy started. “We only have one bed in here.” Robin lifted her head and looked to the other side of the room, then back to Chrissy.

“O-oh.” Robin bit her lip nervously. “I could sleep on the couch if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No!” Chrissy almost yelped. “I mean, no. That’s fine! It’s big enough for us to share.” She was sure her cheeks were bright pink. She got on the bed next to Robin, the other girl sitting up.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Robin rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m perfectly comfortable sleeping next to you Robbie, I promise.” Chrissy said sincerely, grabbing Robin’s hand and holding it softly. She looked up at Robin, and took this time to admire her the same way she had so many times before.

Robin didn’t often stream with her camera on, and she didn’t facetime the group so Chrissy didn’t get to see her face much. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved Robin's features.

Her soft skin that was splattered with light brown freckles she wanted to count, her soft jawline and the thin dark circles underneath her gorgeous eyes. Then there was her hair. Her soft, wavy locks that Chrissy constantly wanted to run her fingers through if the other would let her. 

"Hey, did you think we could see if one of the guys would pay for our lunches?" Robin said, a grin on her face. Chrissy giggled and squeezed Robin's hand. 

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Chrissy smiled deviously and the two left Robin's belongings to be unpacked later. Right now, they had some boys to mooch off of.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Oh boy.

It was one day away from the first day of the convention Steve hesitantly bought tickets for. He and Dustin were all set to see the panel Eddie and his friends would be at and Steve’s bank account was about to kick the bucket. Dustin was excited, though, and that was all Steve needed to know that this was worth it.

He couldn’t lie, this was slightly for him too. Ever since he’d laid eyes on the man Dustin called his idol, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Steve’s known for a while that he liked guys. Before Dustin was born, he’d even dated a few, but he’s not sure he’s felt this way in a long time just based on someone's looks. The critical part of his mind scolded him.

'This is your son's favourite streamer you're thinking about!'

'His looks might deceive him. He could be a total douche.'

'Is he really all that?'

Yes. Eddie really was 'all that.' His personality was large and he was really, really attractive. 

'He probably has a girlfriend. You don't even know if he likes guys.'

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. He would have to start on dinner soon for Dustin, Dustin's "friend" Suzie, and himself soon. He could contemplate this all later. Maybe tomorrow at the convention, but hopefully not ever again. He stood up from his chair in his office and closed his computer. He walked down the hallway and all that could be heard was the tv in Dustin's room. 

Suspicious. 

He walked further and leaned closer to Dustin's door that sat open by three inches. After another moment Steve pushed the door open fully to see Suzie tucked into Dustin's side as they lay on his bed, seemingly watching a movie. 

"Dad! What the hell!" The two jumped and Suzie gripped onto Dustin's shirt. 

"Calm down Dustin, I'm just asking what you guys want for dinner." Dustin was red with embarrassment and Suzie just snickered. 

"Whatever's fine, dad." He answered. "And learn to knock!" He shouted on Steve's way out. Steve snorted and made his way to the kitchen now with three things on his mind. 

Whatever was going on between his son and this girl. (Which he totally predicted, by the way.) 

What he was making for dinner. 

An insanely pretty streamer he was probably too old to be gawking over.

Dinner was only going a little awkwardly. Suzie sat quietly, eating the quiche Steve had made. Dustin glared at his father from across the circular table and Steve tried his hardest not to make a face back. 

"So, Suzie. How's school been for you?" Steve asked as he fiddled with his fork. 

"Dad." Dustin groaned. 

"What?" Steve drew out the 'a.' "I'm just asking how her classes are." 

"Well, my grades are just fine. I enjoy my academics a lot actually! I only wish I could say the same for Dusty." She smiled at the boy whose face dropped. 

"Snitch!" Dustin accused and Suzie laughed, Dustin's scowl softened at the sight before it hardened and he turned to his father. "Don't listen to a word she says," Dustin pointed a fork at Steve who threw his hands up. 

"Alright, alright. Finish your dinner so you can have time to wind down before you go to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow." Dustin smiled before starting to scarf down his food as if he hadn't eaten in days. 

"Slow down, Dusty!" Suzie squealed. She was a good match for him, Steve thought. 

At least Dustin had Suzie.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Lord have mercy.

The girls had come back from a nice lunch, courtesy of Austin who was the only one willing to do them a solid and pay for their food, and things were calm until the sun went down. They’d found a pizza place and called for delivery. It was good, Robin found, but she’d had better back in Miami.

After that, they’d flipped through the few channels the hotel TV offered and Chrissy began her nightly routine of a simple skin care routine and brading of her hair. Then, she would join Robin under the covers. She wore a mint green silk pyjama set, a spaghetti strapped tank top and shorts that ended before her mid thigh, and Robin felt under dressed in her wife beater and Archie sweatpants.

The only light spared was from the lamp that sat on Robin's side of the bed she was almost scared to turn it off. If she did, it would really seem like it was just her and Chrissy. 

"Are you totally sure you're comfortable with me? I mean, I've been told I'm a pretty clingy sleeper. I wouldn't want you to wake up with me-" Robin started rambling before Chrissy stepped in. 

"Rob! I already promised." Chrissy's eyes were drooping and Robin could tell she was really to pass the fuck out. Robin smiled fondly, brushing Chrissy's bangs from her face and pulling the blankets up further. "You know, you're really pretty." Chrissy sleepily admitted. Robin stared in shock for a moment. 

"Y-you think?" 

"Uh huh," She pulled a hand out of the covers and laid it on Robin's cheek. "Super pretty." Chrissy smiled and brought her hand back to her chest before swiftly falling asleep. 

‘Are you there god? It’s me, Margaret.’ Robin thought. She brought her palm to the same cheek Chrissy had just touched and she felt how much her face had heated up. God, she probably looked like a lovesick fool, but she couldn't even judge herself for that when she laid her eyes upon Chrissy's sleeping figure. She looked so at peace. Quite often she was riddled with anxiety or happiness, both that made her constantly fidgeting or moving around. Now, she was still and sound. Robin fought herself to take a mental photo, wanting to remember this sight forever. Wanting to wake up to this sight forever. 

Reluctantly, Robin rolled to lay on her back. She never slept well on her side. She turned the lamp out finally and soon enough her own eyes became heavy with sleep, and she herself would also succumb to sleep.

The next sound Robin would hear would be the screech of her ringtone and Chrissy's groan from next to her. Robin reached to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was Eddie, that bastard. 

"Eddie?" 

"Woah, morning Robin." Eddie seemed pretty awake for... Ten in the morning. "Just wanted to make sure you two were awake. I'm guessing you weren't until just now." 

"Yeah, asshole. I had an alarm set for eleven." Robin whined and Chrissy yawned from beside her. 

"Okay, well I wanted us to all meet up for brunch before the panel. So get ready and meet us in the lobby by eleven-thirty. Okay? Okay." Eddie hung up before Robin could intervene. 

"He is such a prick," Robin groaned and set her phone back down. Chrissy giggles as she rubs her eyes. 

"That's Eddie, alright." Chrissy sighed. She sat up and stretched out her arms. Robin had to stop herself from staring at the slight muscle the former cheerleader still had. She sat up as well, much to her dismay. "I," Chrissy swung her legs over the side of the bed before standing up. "Am going to have a shower. You want me to be quick so you can have one too?" 

"If you wouldn't mind. I could always wait until after we hang out with the guys too." Robin said as she walked over to the small vanity and started to brush her hair. 

"Oh, Robin. You are a gift from god." Chrissy responded as she approached the taller and left a kiss on her cheek before scurrying away to the small bathroom of the hotel room. Robin simply froze. This girl had no idea what she was doing to her.

tags:

@marklee-blackmore

[factual-fantasy]

10 asks!! Thank you!! :}} 🌚

Well that's a hard one to answer.. how can I know what my most forgotten OC is, if I've forgotten about them? <XD

I guess what I can say is I did a OC drawing challenge that showed some old ocs of mine. I guess the "oldest OC" and the "most complex backstory OC" would qualify as "forgotten to time"..

I made them both a veeery long time ago.. and up until that post, I hadn't thought of them at all.. I hope this counts/answers your question! :}

@beryl-shade

XD he'd probably think, "I can't wait to teach this bird to say things that will annoy the crap outa Octo" 🤣🤣

(Referencing this post)(?)

AAA THABK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD I'm so happy people seem to like his name!! :}} ✨💞✨

(Link in question)

XD Well idk if it would be as dramatic as that- but perhaps he is afraid of being brushed off in a similar way.. :( 💔

As for Tuna, I don't have anyone in mind that he would be interested in, so I'm not sure! :0

@casp1an-sea

Oof, it's always unfortunate to hear when people find me through stolen artwork..

But hey, I'm glad you like what you see and found me at the source! All my artwork is posted to Tumblr. Find it anywhere else it's stolen 100% of the time!

You can find my Octonauts artwork under the #octonauts tag on my blog :00

I suppose it's very likely/possible! :0 Perhaps a pirate friendly port town? If those even exist--

@atissueoranapkin

:DD!! AWE! THANK YOU!! :}}} ✨💞💞✨

I'm not sure I know that real life chocolates you're relating this to.. but tbh it sounds like something that would fit into the games! :0 (I think-)

I wonder what my crew would do if they came across a ship like that.. id like to think they would have the means to rescue them and bring them back to shore.. 🥺🥺

Oh I'm sure they have many times! :D A day out on the beach sounds fun!

Red is the only kid in the crew. :0 but he's only there because he's Seafoam's great nephew and he has nowhere else to go..

If they happened upon another little kid, their first idea would be to bring him to shore and pass him off to whoever would take him. :/

But if they found a kid that had no where else to go and no one would take him..? They'd hesitantly take them aboard too. <XD

[mthollowell-writes]

Beach Fronts & Pipe Dreams Days of Horror Day 3: Riddle

(TW: Murder, Blood, Mutilation, and Some Serious Swearing)

Detective Warner shined a light down the rusted pipe. It was part of the old system of drainage pipes that guided sewage and excess storm water to this beach front on the edge of the city. It fell out of use several decades ago, this exposed bit left to slowly decay in the sun. It flaked red and green as Jake brushed the end with his fingertips. Just looking at the thing made him feel like he needed a tetanus shot. The opening was small. According to the tape, the pipe measured barely 2 feet wide. It was hard to believe a body was stuffed inside here. But that was the reality of it. A couple of kids found it early this morning while scaling the rocks. The smell drew them in first. Even hours later, with the body laid a mile down on the sand, it was overwhelming. According to the little girl of the pair, she saw the bloated hand sticking out from the pipe as if reaching for the morning sun. She couldn’t have been more than 11, about the same age as his little girl.

Extraction for the forensic team must’ve been a bitch, but extract they did. Warner took in all the details he could. The pipe was narrower up close. Any evidence on the ground would’ve been washed away by yesterday’s storm and the fickle high tide. He clicked off his light. “Show me the body.” Their unlucky John Doe was splayed out on a blue tarp on the beach. His legs were laid closest to Warner, with both exposed feet broken forever at an odd angle. If they were to stand him up, he’d be on his tippy toes. His victim was then cut cleanly at the waist, his guts drained of blood but purple with putrefaction. Maggots were making a good home there. As Werner squinted at the cut, his insides crawled with them. His torso was riddled with at least 20 stab wounds from shoulder to navel. More curious was the the head. Or rather, the decided lack of one. Both it and his left arm were missing, likely to slow down identification. With all these injuries, it was unclear whether the decapitation was peri and post mortem. If the stab wounds didn’t kill him, the moment that cut came down on his neck surely did. The body was drained of its blood and obviously moved. He was killed elsewhere. Likely somewhere secluded where the killer could dismantle their victim without too many questions from neighbors. Warner could only guess. Without an ID, everything was speculation. What couldn’t be disputed was the brutality of this murder. There was also something a touch ritualistic about it. Why break his ankles in such an odd angle? Why not take both arms after going through the effort of cutting them off? “You poor bastard,” Jake muttered to himself. “What the hell happened to you?” “That’s your job to figure out, detective,” Lillian, the head forensic tech said as she held out an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “Found this in John Doe’s pockets.” “Huh.” It was funny that the sick fuck that tore him apart had the decency to keep the victim’s pants on him. They were once a decent pair of gray khakis. Now they were forever stained in his blood. Guess the killer didn’t want to traumatize the kiddos anymore with indecent exposure, god forbid. Warner sighed and held up the bag towards the setting orange sun. He had a longer night ahead of him. The paper was something ripped out of lined notebook. On it was a note scrawled erratically in black ink. Riddle’s Three Search the forgotten refinery and you’ll find me Warner swore. Lillian kept her gaze steady on his. “What do you think it means?” “We might have a serial killer.” He glared at the note. “And this may be a clue to where their other victim is.”

[seriesxwriting]

Will you be my girlfriend

W Rafe Cameron 💗

Series- outer banks

Warnings- kissing, swearing, mentions of drugs. (Weed)

Summary- rafe finds out you have a secret talent. He helps you build up your confidence so you can sing on stage. And he helps you realise your feelings for him too.

————————————————————————

The school corridors where empty, id forgotten my books and returned to school after hours but no one was there. enjoyed it like this, the busy halls and the endless noise was so distracting it made my head spin.

My eyes side glanced to the school talent show poster on the wall. I loved to sing it was my only talent, it was a hidden one because I was so shy but a talent it was. My fingers uncontrollably dragged from the poster to the theatre room door pushing it roughly open. The lights where already on so I swiftly made my way towards the stage.

All the black theatre seats where empty that's the only way I had confidence. I put my books Id picked up on the side of the stage and pulled my self up instead of using the stairs two steps away. It was my dream to be up here, to sing for people instead of just when the house was empty or when the beach was deserted. There was a piano on the side of the stage. I side eyed it determining if I should play or not. So I sat down examining it.

Shyly I pressed down on one key of the piano and the sound travelled to even the remote corners of the massive room. All the lessons came back to me and I started to play.

And sang.

At the top of my lungs I started to sing the first song that came to my head that I knew i could play. 'Perfect duet' by Beyoncé and Ed Sheeran. Beyoncé's voice was angelic and she was my idol, to one day meet her, sing with her.

"Bare foot on the grass, listening to our favourite song.. when you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath... but you heard it.. darling you look perfect tonight!"

I ran all the way through the song singing of my own accord, enjoying every second of being up here facing the fake people out there. My eyes had been closed or looking down at the piano the whole song but they snapped open when applause rose from the seats.

Was I going crazy?

No. There really was an audience. My eyes grew wide in alarm as I saw Rafe sitting in the back row nodding his head as if he was impressed with me. I felt myself go red and ducked behind the piano in a panic. "What are you doing" he projected his laugh. "What am I doing? What are you doing- in here no in school" i corrected peeping from the side.

He was walking down the aisle now towards the stage. Towards me. "I was coming from the toilets when I heard the piano intro" Rafe told me not taking away his eye contact. "And" "and I had a look, I saw you and couldn't stop listening"

I gulped with worry as rafe leaned over on the stage smiling at me. "Why where you in the toilets" | questioned, it was late why would rafe Cameron stay at school to this hour. "Detention and the toilets is the only place I can vape" he shrugged with a grin. Of course he was vaping instead of doing his detention.

But here he stood, smiling at me and applauding me.

"Was it- flat? off key?" I stuttered still embarrassed he'd heard it. "No- y/n no, it was fucking angelic" he shook his head firmly. 'Angelic' that's how I described Beyonce, he didn't know what that complement meant to me. But I didn't know what to say or how to show appreciation to Rafe Cameron.

He could tell too, but just smiled "you know I remember when you had to ditch me at 6:00 every Friday for your piano lessons" he giggled to himself. His shiny brown hair flopped over his eyes as he did and Rafe brushed it away "yeah well I remember when my parents grounded me because you stayed for one of my piano lessons and kept making me laugh" my face smiled at him, at the memories of him and our old friendship.

We used to be really close rafe and I. And then one day a couple months ago one of rafes friends told me that he was chatting shit about me. A girl called Lana. From then on I ignored him. It took a few weeks but then rafe started understanding that I wasn’t interested in being friends with him anymore. He stopped saying hi to me in the corridors. He stopped sitting next to me, waving at me across campus. He stopped snapping me and sending me TikTok‘s. He stopped FaceTiming me at three am. we haven’t spoken in months.

"Yeah I remember that too" he nodded but his eyes slimmed "tell me something" he patted the stage and dipped his head in that direction. Shit he wanted me to go over. Pros and cons I thought to myself but his eyes burned into me. Slowly I got up closing the piano and clutching the sleeves of the jumper.

"What do you want to know Cameron" | tilted my head taking a seat and dangling my legs off the stage. "How it's possible l've known you for twelve years and I never knew you could sing like that” "like what" I answered fast, he looked up at me his ocean eyes like the sea it's self. Beautiful, yet dangerous. They where so sublime. He was so sublime.

"Anyone teach you that?" He wondered shuffling closer. "No" "your talented y/n why don't you do something with it- um.." Rafe though deeply before he had an epiphany "the school talent show huh, start off small win it and get big" "Rafe stop" | laughed at him shaking my head vigorously.

"No" I told him straight up with one shrug of my shoulders. "Why" rafe answered quickly following my negative response. "I can't sing in front of anyone so be obscured" "wasting your beautiful voice, beautiful" it took me a second to understand he'd just called me beautiful as well as my voice. "I can't just magically whip up confidence" i stated brushed past the compliment.

Rafe looked up while his brows slammed in the opposite direction. “No but I can teach you” “your going to- teach me how to be confident” I giggled behind my hand. “Ah! Don’t laugh until you’ve tried it come on” he nodded his head. “Where are we going?” I asked not moving a muscle. “Back to mine so we can practice” “I’m not going back to your house rafe” “why not? We haven’t hung out in ages”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that” I bit my lip looking anywhere but at him. “well- what is it” Rafe asked me with an eyebrow raised. “Just leave it alone Rafe” I got up off the stage and picked up my books. When I turned around I almost knocked into rafe he was so close to me. “You can keep ignoring me if you want but at least tell me why your doing it” “you don’t really deserve that much rafe” “that much?” He laughed out loud. “You told me nothing I don’t even know why you don’t like me”

“Fine Rafe I’ll come back to yours if you drop this” I raised my eyebrows firmly. He sighed at my ultimatum “I’ll get what I’m given i guess” he reached out to take some books off me and he carried them to his car. We both got in and Rafe drove us to his house. Ward opened the door and when seeing me his eyes widened, he looked at rafe and then back at me before inviting me in and welcoming me.

Me and Rafe went up to his room and he got out a note pad with a smug smile. “What on earth is that for” “I’m going to write down some tasks to build your confidence and you have to do them” he told me jumping onto the bed and propping himself up on his elbows. “Depends what they are” I squinted my eyes at him. Rafe spent a good ten minutes thinking and scribbling down his thoughts before passing me the note pad.

Task one: go to the shop and ask for a pregnancy test

Task two: ask Sarah for a tampon

Task three: tell someone you don’t like their outfit

Task four: spill water over someone

Task five: accept a complement of someone

Task six: sing in front of two people

Task seven: finally correct mrs kinda on how to say your name correctly

Task eight: go to a restaurant high

Task nine: go to the till and tell them you don’t have enough money

“Rafe these are just embarrassing things you want to see me do” I rolled my eyes throwing the pad back at him. “Trust me it will build up your confidence- once you’ve felt embarrassed about something you will get over it” Rafe smirked at my immediate reaction.

Sarah knocked on the door and rafe called her in. “Rafe have you seen my AirPods?” She asked walking in. “Nope, sorry” he shrugged and then widened his eyes at me to complete the task. I looked at Sarah and she looked at me. “Y/n? How have you been Rafe told me you weren’t talking anymore” “I’ve been good- what about you” I stalled until I built up my confidence. “Yeah not bad just busy with school really” she twinkled at me and Rafe sitting on the bed.

“Sarah- before you go um” I called out stuttering “do you uh- have a- tampon i could borrow- not borrow but like- have” I asked really quietly and awkwardly. “Yeah of course girl, I’ll bring you one” she nodded bolting off. Rafe put his face into the covers to laugh at how red I’d gone. “It’s not that funny” I folded my arms. “Do you feel better now you’ve done it?” He asked ticking off task two. “Not really” “Then I guess we have to carry on” Rafe grinned.

So me and Rafe left the house so we could continue doing the list. We went to a shop so I could complete task nine, I braught a chocolate bar and the line behind me was so long which made it even more embarrassing when I paid in the 1ps rafe gave me. And I was 3 pence short. The shop keeper let me off probably because I looked like I wanted to melt into the floor. There were some tasks we couldn’t do now but by the time we got back to his house I’d done four tasks.

Rafe drove me home and parked up in my driveway. “Thanks for today” I said Quietly just slightly looking at him. He was so handsome. “It’s been fun, I’ve missed you y/n” “I’m sure” I laughed collecting my stuff up. “I have, why do you paint me out to be the bad guy?” “Because i didn’t do anything wrong” I told him sitting back in the chair. Rafe rolled his eyes now looking at me too. “Neither did I, you were the one who started ignoring me” “like I said, I have my reasons” I opened the door to get out.

“So I’ll pick you up tomorrow? So we can continue the list” “no not in school- we can’t be seen together” I shook my head. “Why not?” Rafe laughed siting back defeated. “I just don’t want your friends to see us together” “my friends? Why” Rafe questioned. “Did they do something to you? Say something?” He reached out to grasp my hand. “It’s what you said Rafe” I pulled away and got out the car. He called my name a few times but I ignored him and went into my house.

It’s sad because I did miss rafe and we did have a good time out today. But I couldn’t bate out Lana especially when she has been kind enough to be honest with me about what Rafe said. He didn’t pick me up in the morning, or speak to me in school. He didn’t even look at me in school. But I carried on with the tasks and I signed myself up for the talent show. Even though I wasn’t sure if I’d show yet, rafes plan was slightly working.

When I got out of school and started my walk home a big black jeep pulled up beside me. “Get in then- no one can see us” Rafe smirked shrugging. “You just won’t give up Cameron” I turned to him with a little smile. “I heard you correcting miss kinder- sounded like you were keeping up with my tasks” Rafe leaned over to the window. “Please get in y/n we really need to talk”

“No we don’t Rafe, I’ve told you I don’t want to talk about it” “but I’m so confused- what did I say that was so bad” he looked upset with me and it was killing me. “I’ll get in but you have to drop it, i don’t want to talk about it” I warned him with my hand on the Handel. “Can I just say…” he stopped me before I got in. “That what ever you’ve heard you can talk to me about it- I’ve never said a bad word about you or- I don’t know your friends or family” rafe explained to me.

“What ever was said- how do you know its true did you hear me say it”. I was about to let it all out, I was about to tell him what happened. His face was so close to mine now, I imagined things that I probably shouldn’t of have in that moment. Rafe made me weak. but then I saw Lana’s name flash up on the screen in his car. I blinked and looked down. Rafe rolled his eyes and declined the call. “Just please get in- I’ll drop it” he sighed pulling away from the door and sitting back in his chair.

“Do you know what” I said turning to him after sitting in silence for a couple minutes. Rafe hummed in response. “It’s time for task eight- but your doing it with me” I inhaled a deep breath of air. “I like that plan” Rafes hand brushed along my thigh as he rested it on there for the rest of the journey home.

Few days later- day of the talent show

Me and Rafe had spent every day together after school rebuilding the friendship up and my confidence too. He ended up adding a few more tasks onto this list to help me out and I really appreciated his help the whole time. He told me he’d be here to watch me and support me the whole night.

I stood backstage listening to the people on stage doing their jokes to the audience. As I did I began to get really nervous. Really really nervous. And scared. My confidence shattered when they called out my name. My palms were sweaty, my eyes were filling up.

“I can’t” I whispered walking backwards shaking my head. “What? Why can’t you go on” “i um…” I put my hand on my chest, it felt tight like I couldn’t get the air to my lungs. “Y/n? Are you okay!” The music teacher ran over to me with her hand on my back. “I’ve got this miss Samson” a familiar voice filled the room and his signature aftershave filled my nose. He stood behind me and I automatically turned around to hug Rafe. “Y/n you have practiced this a million and one times”

“There’s sp many people- Rafe I can’t do this I don’t know what I was thinking you wasted your time” I blurted out as a tear fell down my cheek. I was so disappointed in myself. “Y/n. I am not going to stand here and watch you give up on something you want- you can do this, your beautiful your talented and you are confident” Rafe told me holding my face. I tried focusing on my breathing but i couldn’t when he was so close to me. “Okay” I eventually said.

“Just remember what Shawn Mendes said- just picture everybody naked” Rafe nodded with a little chuckle. “Can’t help yourself can you” I laughed taking a deep breath in and out, picking up the microphone. “Better get back to your seat- thank you rafe” I kissed his cheek. Rafe held his stare at me for a little bit too long to make sense before shaking his head and wishing me luck. I took another deep breath and then walked onto the stage. My whole family were there and so was rafes.

I sat down at the piano. Me and Rafe had planned that I was going to sing the same song that had drawn him in. My fingers pressed down on the piano and I closed my eyes pretending it was just me and Rafe. Pretending I was singing to him.

“We are still kids but we’re so in love, fighting against all odds I know we be alright this time, darling just hold my hand be your girl you’ll be my man and I see my future in your eyes”

As I finished up the last few lines I looked to Rafe in his seat. He had a massive smirk on his face. Almost as if he was proud of me. I was proud of my self actually, but it wouldn’t be possible without Rafe Cameron.

I stopped and listened to the applause after I had finished. I was panting after my performance. But when I finally turned to watch the sea of the crown standing up smiling and congratulating me the only person who stood out was Rafe. He stood up too but he wasn’t clapping, instead he Held up a sign and in big letters he had written.

“Will you be my girlfriend”

I was extremely taken back- it was all too much the noise, everyone watching me, Rafe expecting an answer to a question that i couldn’t. I liked him. I did I really did too much for my own good but after what he said to me I didn’t completely trust him. And I was petrified. I jumped up off the piano and holding my dress I ran off the stage with tears pooling in my eyes yet again. “Y/n!” Rafe called out running after me backstage. “Please wait” he shouted following me.

“Rafe- I don’t know what to say to you right now” I sniffed wiping my eye with my finger. “I- wouldn’t have done it here if I knew this would have been your reaction” he told me sadly “I don’t want to ruin your day but- I feel for you I’ve never felt this before- for anyone” he began telling me. “I thought that maybe- you felt it back too even a tiny bit” he softly asked reaching for my hand. “Rafe my feeling aren’t the problem here- I like you, more than I’ve ever liked anyone” I half laughed.

“But I can’t trust You” “is this about the thing I said?”. I swayed sideways slowly, not knowing what to say. “Why can’t you tell me! What if I can explain it?” “You can’t” i bluntly replied going to turn alway. “Y/n I’m not the giving up type- if I have to hire a PI I will! I will solve this” “You wanna know Rafe” I shook my head chewing on my cheek and pulling my hand away from him. “You we’re chatting shit about me to your friends- you said that I was boring and like talking to a brick wall”

“You said that I was annoying and clingy and that you couldn’t help being fake” I repeated what Lana said to me. Rafes jaw clenched as I kept fireing the truth bombs at him. “Y/n! Stop it” he ordered seriously now. His whole attitude had changed. “What- why are you looking at me like that” “because I never said any of that!” “How do I know your not being fake now” I laughed folding my arms protectively around me. “Because I bet I can guess who fed you then lies” Rafe rolled his eyes clearly ticked off.

I raised my eyebrow smally. “Lana” he put forward. “…maybe she was just being a loyal girl” I told him. “No she was being anything but loyal, she told you that because she is in love with me and I told the group that I had been planning to ask you out!” Rafe blurted out. He said it so fast there wasn’t even enough time to think about lies. “Really?” I whispered with a little bit of a smile. “Before this all happened I liked you! I’ve been head over heals for you for fucking years and-

I pressed my lips against his to stop his rant. Frankly I’d wanted to do this for quite some time now. Even though I had to stand on my tip toes it was still everything I had imagined it would have been. Rafe bent his neck down when he realise what I was going. His hands came to my waist and he pulled out body’s together. When pulling away from the kiss our forehead met. “So? Does that mean you will be my girlfriend” Rafe whispered in the most vulnerable voice I’d ever heard.

“Yes rafe- I’ll be your girlfriend” I giggled kissing his hand and holding it against my face. “I’m sorry for not talking to you- for ignoring you, for acting immature for…” “y/n your forgiven” Rafe laughed shaking his head. “Lana is going to have to be spoken to” Rafe admitted dead seriously. When he pulled away from me I noticed my microphone still strapped to me. I pulled it off and threw it on the floor folding my head in my hands.

“That wasn’t…” “…it was on- they heard everything” my cheeks burnt up red but we both just burst out laughing. Falling into each others embrace.

————————————————————————

[tehuti88-heritage]

After My Dad, Part 2

(October 29, 2024)

Continued from previous.

I almost swatted my leg, expecting a mosquito. Yet refrained, & looked down at my leg instead. An odd little whitish-colored spider sat there. I was on the pavement, nowhere near anywhere it could have crawled or landed on me from anywhere, so I figured I must have accidentally picked it up when stepping under the apple tree. I carefully relocated it & went back to cleaning the box…though I was also pondering what just happened.

Well…I asked for a sign, however small. And IMMEDIATELY after…this spider showed up. Sure, it was just a spider on my leg…but I'd said it could be small, just something so obvious I couldn't brush it off. The timing was what got me. I've NEVER had a "sign" show up just like that. This seemed to be what I'd asked for…whatever it meant.

Over the next couple of days, I saw spiders, each a different kind, in circumstances somewhat different from how I usually see them, at least 3-4 more times. A parson spider scurrying across the floor while putting away groceries. An orbweaver of some sort perched in the sweetpeas. I forget the exact details by now, just that spiders kept appearing, & not just hanging in corners like I usually find them. (I was never able to adequately ID that 1st white spider, BTW…never saw one like it before or since.)

So OK. Spiders were my sign. Just…what did it MEAN?

I went looking for spiders in Germanic folklore…& could find nothing. There was only this one silly little legend about a spider in a Christmas tree, & to me it reads like it was more recently made up, not an actual folktale. Aside from that…nothing. So…what kind of sign was this, that I could find no traditional meaning to it anywhere? Who sent it?

I had to give up searching for what spiders might mean or who they represented, as there was just nothing. I was left perplexed, with the sign I'd asked for but no clue how to read it.

After a while I went browsing info about Hel again. No relationship to spiders. I can't recall why but I wandered again down the rabbit hole of her suggested connection to Frau Holle. As I was mulling over an article one night, I came across a detail I'd read already, but had forgotten since it bore no significance for me. Frau Holle is traditionally often depicted spinning flax into linen with a distaff & spindle. I know just about zilch on this topic so I may get my terms wrong, sorry. But that was the word that leapt out at me all of a sudden.

SPINNING.

What animal "spins"?

Frau Holle is not traditionally associated with spiders. She's actually more often associated with geese. There's even the theory that she was the prototype for Mother Goose.

Still. There's something to be said for personal associations, even if I hadn't been able to make one on my own. I've tried always to be kind to spiders. I don't relish the thought of them being on me, no, but I let them be, if I absolutely have to I'll shoo them someplace safe, I'll rescue them from drowning, I'll say a small hello or wow, you're a big-un when I find them. I don't like bumbling into their webs or anything, I'm only human, but I try to be decent to them as they mean no harm. I got a nasty bite from one as I was trying to rescue it once, but it wasn't poisonous, & I don't blame it. The cellar spiders are common if a bit annoying but I always greet tiny friends. I actually like the parson spiders. And the jumping spiders are so cute.

My mind gets muddled in the remembering, but once I made the tenuous connection between spiders--spinning--Holle, other synchronicities started appearing. My mother was OBSESSED with geese when I was little, & there are still remnants of this in our house, Mother Goose salt & pepper shakers & cookie jar, & I rescued an old ratty stuffed Mother Goose from the Dumpster when my uncles cleared out the basement where Dad used to do his woodwork. This was before the incident with the spider. Why did you rescue that ratty old thing, my mother said? I'd never cared for her goose obsession before. Seeing Mother Goose perched atop the trash pile just broke my heart. I DID love stuffed animals long ago, & she might have been ratty, but she didn't deserve to be thrown away. Even if she ended up moldering away in the rain, still, it was better than being tossed with the trash.

A bigger synchronicity involves my own name & ancestry, however.

Frau Holle appears to be quite important in this sort of reconstructed heathen belief system called…Urglaawe, I think. I have yet to delve too deeply into it, as I can't technically call myself a heathen. I refuse to follow strict ritual of any sort due to some emotional trauma from Christianity, plus my OCD, & as heathenry depends upon a cycle of specific ritual observances, that sadly rules it out for me. Another factor that rules it out is its group/communal nature--heathenry heavily stresses social & community connections, you aren't meant to go it alone. There are no groups/communities around me, & even if there were, I know I would not be welcomed. I just do not fit in anywhere, & even if people tried to accept me, my anxiety & distrust by now are just too overwhelming. So, no heathenry for me.

Anyway…Urglaawe is the Pennsylvania Dutch variant of heathenry.

My 5x great-grandfather, Conrad H., came to the US from either Germany or Belgium (his own ancestors all came from the Hesse & Baden-Württemberg areas of Germany, though) on the "Sally" in 1767. He settled in Pennsylvania. My ancestors on my dad's side continued living there until my great-grandfather, Robert, decided to leave home, ending up in Michigan. And here we are now.

I can't find much info on the lives of these ancestors. Conrad's voyage is listed in multiple sources among the "Palatine" migrations…so I would have to assume he's considered a Palatine migrant--Pennsylvania Dutch. Based on circumstantial details, I assume he was Protestant, likely Lutheran. The Pennsylvania Dutch fall into 2 groups, Plain Dutch similar to Amish, & the Fancy Dutch who nowadays are just like everyone else but they're known for their elaborate Fraktur art & barn stars, AKA "hex signs." If Lutheran, Conrad was presumably among the latter.

So…although none of this tradition was ever passed along (I suspect Robert tried hard to distance himself from his family), & I wasn't even entirely sure if the "Pennsylvania Dutch" connection I'd heard about as a child was true or not until not that long ago when I stayed up all night tracing my dad's ancestry & found Conrad, there is now definitely a family connection.

It's a word in English, though I'd always heard that my surname was German. Yet searching online suggested many options--German, English, Ashkenazi Jewish(!), etc. A family history book my dad had traced the name to English settlers. I set out to determine once & for all, is my family name German or English or what? My research determined that MY branch of the name, at least, is German; the English branch of the family has nothing to do with us. Just a simple misunderstanding.

The name's actual meaning took on an interesting aspect, now.

I won't come right out & share my surname. I've been stalked/harassed online, plus I really don't want family looking me up (had a bad experience with that already). I'll likely end up sharing enough details that anyone could easily guess it if they wish, however. So, I hope that doesn't come back to bite me. :/

I've already mentioned it's a word in English, but is German. It has a spelling that I thought connected it to a German honorific, but as it turns out, the spelling has changed various times over the years (Conrad often went by a different spelling), so it's the SOUND of the name that I think is more meaningful. Regarding its sound, there's a homophone here, in that the word in the suggested etymology for my surname is spelled differently, but sounds much similar to, the German honorific I 1st mistook it for. The actual suggested name meaning relates to a German term for an army, or "host."

Have to log off for now, but here is a teaser for where this is going.

[reiding-writing]

omg congrats on 2k! could I have a workshop session with S1!spencer x fem!reader? She’s a college senior and she’s noticed that girls are going missing from different colleges around dc/Virginia but the police aren’t connecting them? She confides in Spencer bc she knows he’s fbi but kinda still expecting to be written off again? but he actually takes her seriously and brings it to the team? Hopefully this makes sense, I love the idea of Spencer with a Nancy Drew kinda girl.

HUSHED WHISPERS — SPENCER REID!

after college girls not unlike yourself go missing, you decide to take the first step in bringing them home.

s1!spencer x fem!reader | mystery? | 1.3k | event masterlist.

main masterlist.

| part one. | part two. | part three. |

a/n— this is actually such a good idea for a full fic bro, a part two may be coming for this one if i can brainstorm up a full plot

It had started as a whisper, a passing rumour that girls from neighbouring colleges were disappearing.

At first, no one connected the dots. Students transferred, dropped out, or simply went back home without a word.

But then you noticed the frequency of the disappearances increasing, their timing growing disturbingly close.

Your classmates shrugged it off, and even the police seemed reluctant to dig too deep. After all, college kids had a tendency to get lost in the chaos of life. But you knew better.

Something was happening, and you couldn’t let it go.

That’s why you were on your way to the local library. You had seen him there—Doctor Reid. He was hard to miss, with his thick-rimmed glasses and sweater vests. He looked like he’d fit right in with the academics at your college, but there was always something... different about him.

It wasn’t long before you realised who he actually was—a federal agent. Dr. Spencer Reid, BAU.

You had seen him in quiet conversations with the head librarian, a few shared looks with men in suits, and one afternoon he’d apparently forgotten to remove his Federal ID from his shirt before settling into one of the reading nooks.

You weren’t sure if he’d take you seriously, but you were out of options. Every lead you tried to chase down came up short, every friend you confided in brushed you off.

Spencer was your last chance.

As you entered the library, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood greeted you, a comforting contrast to the turmoil in your mind.

You scanned the rows of tables and study cubicles, searching for him. And there he was, seated in the far corner, surrounded by an intimidating stack of books, furrowing his brow as he flipped through pages at lightning speed.

Taking a deep breath, you walked toward him, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. He could either help you or send you away like everyone else.

“Uh, hi, Spencer Reid?” You rocked on your heels, standing awkwardly beside his table. His head snapped up, his brown doe eyes locking onto yours in surprise.

“Yes?” His voice was softer than you expected, laced with curiosity.

“I don’t know if you have any clue who I am, but uh— I see you in here a lot,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I uh… You’re FBI, and I— think something’s going on, something that no one is noticing.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but not with dismissal. More like he was processing, listening carefully. He closed the book in front of him, giving you his full attention. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “I... I don’t know how to explain this, but I’ve been noticing something strange lately. Girls from different colleges around here— they’ve been just disappearing. But no one is connecting anything.”

He leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. “How do you know they’re connected?”

Relief washed over you at the fact that he hadn’t immediately brushed you off. “I’ve been looking into it for a while. It started with a classmate of mine who just... vanished a few weeks ago. No one cared enough to dig into it. They said she probably transferred or dropped out. But I was looking into it and I saw a pattern. Girls from nearby schools, all disappearing without a trace, and the police aren’t even acknowledging it. It’s like they just don’t— care.”

Spencer was silent for a moment, his eyes darting from side to side as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind. Then he nodded. “You said there’s a pattern. Do you have anything else? Details?”

You pulled out your notebook, one you’d been obsessively filling with notes, articles, and timelines for weeks. “Here,” You said, opening it to the first page and sliding it toward him. “I know it’s not much, but these are the girls I’ve been able to track so far. Some of them were reported missing, others weren’t. But look at the timing, and how they’ve all just vanished it can’t be random.”

He took the notebook, flipping through the pages with a practiced eye. His fingers moved quickly, but you could tell he was absorbing every detail. After a minute, he looked up at you, his expression serious.

“Why do you think no one’s noticed this before?” he asked, his tone measured, thoughtful.

You bit your lip. “I think... I think because it’s happening across multiple jurisdictions. Different police departments aren’t talking to each other, and the girls don’t seem to have anything obvious in common. Different colleges, different backgrounds, different majors. But I feel like someone’s targeting them. I don’t know why, but it feels too deliberate.”

Spencer was quiet again, his gaze turning inward as he processed the information. Then, without warning, he stood up, grabbing his satchel and stuffing your notebook inside.

“Can I have your number?”

You blink, confused. “Excuse me?”

“For— For the case— For details— not, for—“ Spencer backtracks almost too quickly, waving a dismissive hand at the contextual implications of his question. “I uh— If this case turns out a lead, then uh— we’ll want to ask you some more questions about what you’ve found—”

Spencer grasps at the strap of his bag awkwardly, patting his palm against its main body to motion towards your notebook.

“Right— yeah, no problem, uh…” You stumble for a moment, patting your pockets and glancing around for something to write on, before settling on a crumpled receipt in your back pocket and a random pencil from your backpack.

The scrawl of your name and your number definitely isn’t your best work, and you’re not sure Spencer’d even be able to read it if he didn’t have glasses on, but it’ll do.

“Here, I hope you find something,” You hold it out to him with a confused enthusiasm, unsure whether being excited at Spencer’s involvement is really what you should be feeling. “Thank you for believing me,”

His eyes softened just a fraction. “I think you are onto something. The pattern isn’t obvious at first, but now that you’ve pointed it out, it makes sense. I’ll take this to my team at the BAU. If you’re right, and there is a connection, we’ll find it.”

You followed him out of the library with your eyes, your mind reeling. Relief and fear warred inside you—relief that someone finally believed you, and fear of what this might mean.

If Spencer and his team were getting involved, then this wasn’t just a hunch. It was real.

— part two !!

[alliluyevas]

why is it that literally every length of hair I’ve ever had I have deeply mixed feelings about

[mossy-rainfrog]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Martin and Jon in season 1 of the Magnus Archives. Martin is seen out in the archives hallway, through the doorway to Jon’s office. Martin a fat Black man with short coily hair, round glasses, and snake bite lip piercings. He wears a blue sweater over a white collared shirt, and carries a brown satchel with him. Martin is looking over his shoulder with interest as he walks into work, and in a smaller panel to the side, we see Jon watching him with wide eyes. Jon is a thin Persian person with long greying hair tied back in a low bun, and rectangular glasses. He wears a red button down underneath a brown jacket, and is seated at the desk in his office. He stares out at Martin, looking flustered. There are small lines by Martin’s mouth indicating the piercings, and there are exclamation marks by Jon’s head indicating his reaction. End ID.]

I found an old fic in my notes about Martin dressing alt/punk outside of work and accidentally leaving on a small indicator of his usual fashion when he comes into the archives and I just. had to bring it back. Also, because I am still fond of it, please enjoy the aforementioned fic🥰:

Jon is having a difficult morning, to say the least. He had believed that coming into work an entire hour early would provide him with ample time to get a head start on today’s organizing, but that has decidedly not been case. He’s already had to take the statements of two utterly ridiculous liars who could barely keep the grins off of their faces as they recounted their ludicrous tale, and then listen to Elias subsequently dress down his so-called ‘attitude towards patrons’ for nearly half an hour, and suffice it to say, he would really like to get started on something that is actually worth his time.

He dislikes settling down with the more... difficult statements before all of his colleagues arrive, an attempt to keep them from interrupting his recordings to greet him, so once he’s finished his other menial tasks, he finds himself simply sitting and waiting for the ensemble of his assistants to arrive.

Tim and Sasha are the first - entering together as usual after having stopped for coffee on the way in - but Martin is slow to follow, taking nearly another fifteen minutes to arrive. It’s nearly ten past seven at that point, and once Jon hears Martin’s steps coming towards his office, he has half a mind to give the man yet another lecture on punctuality and work ethic. He gets as far enough as bracing his hands on the table to stand up, and then Martin appears in the doorway to his office, and he realizes something strikingly different about his appearance.

That is to say, Jon’s whole world narrows down very suddenly to the little black studs decorating the space underneath his bottom lip.

He’s staring, he knows he is, but Martin is busy looking down the hall for the moment, so Jon doesn’t force himself to tear his eyes away just yet. How long has he had his lip pierced, Jon wonders? Has it been there the whole time he’s known him? Has he only recently gotten it done? How? Why?

It’s hard to imagine Martin - soft, unassuming Martin who is far too large for the amount of space he crams himself into, always slouching, always pulling himself inwards as if he can make himself disappear - dressing in any way other than soft sweaters and slacks, but if Jon’s honest, he’s never actually seen the man outside of work. He has no idea how Martin chooses to dress himself when out from under the Institute’s rigid dress code, and this tiny window he’s been provided with is making him maddeningly curious.

He’s not... he doesn’t have feelings for Martin, aside from a general annoyance, occasionally marked with curiosity. He’s a professional, for God’s sake, not to mention that Martin’s very existence as a given is like a grain of sand in his eye, rubbing and irritating. Now he cuts clean through without even noticing. Jon itches to know more.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice tears him from his thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Oh, shit. Jon can feel his gaze heat up as if he’s done something horribly wrong - how embarrassing that he can’t even keep a blush off of his face - but he still forces himself to open his mouth and stutter out an excuse. He means to remark on one of Martin’s missing reports, or the fact that he’s coming in nine minutes late, but what ends up leaving his mouth is; “Your lip is pierced.”

Just a sentence, not a question. He thinks he’s positively beet red. Martin freezes, the tips of his ears darkening visibly against his brown skin as his hand shoots to his mouth and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten to take them out,” the poor man looks like he’s about to panic as he whips his gaze around as if to see if anyone else has noticed. “Don’t tell Elias, please, I’ve seen how he gets after Tim for the dress code, and there is no way, I mean no way—”

“Oh, n-no, it’s- I- it’s fine, really,” Jon raises his hands in defense as Martin rambles, for some reason inclined to reassure the man. “I won’t- I’m not- I’m not going to tell him.”

Martin hesitates, wringing his hands, apologies visible on every pore of his face. “I- Thank you. I’ll- I’ll go take it off. Christ, that’s embarrassing.”

“Only if you want,” Jon shrugs, which is definitely not the correct thing for him to say as a boss, and it definitely comes out a little gentler than he intends it to, and Jon is three seconds from screaming if he can’t figure out how to make himself react normally to this. It’s a non-traditional piercing in an academic institute of research; it’s against the rules, however dated they may be, and further than that, there is no reason for it to completely undo his composure the way that it has. He tries to get a hold of himself. “I-I mean, that’s likely for the best.”

Martin is giving him a funny look - probably a response to seeing the whole spectrum of human emotions flash across Jon’s face in a millisecond - but he still nods and says: “Sorry again. Thank you,” and then disappears down the corridor.

Jon immediately buries his face in his hands and sighs.

What is wrong with him? For God’s sake, he’s just seen Martin with a lip piercing, it’s not like he’s witnessed the man undressed. Besides, he works in an archive where he has to read statements about the intricacies of monsters that rip off people’s skin and suchlike every day, he should know how to keep his composure better than this. He should just move on with his day and focus without a problem, just like he does every morning.

Except, his mind keeps wandering back to it; the way the little studs had followed the shape of his mouth, the way they had quirked up when he flashed one of his nervous smiles, the way Jon is still desperately curious about what brought him to get them done, and also what it might feel like to brush a thumb, or perhaps even his lips over them.

Jon sits up so fast his head actually smacks against an open filing cabinet behind him. His mind is too busy reeling to notice the ache that fills his head, and he stares straight ahead with wide eyes and utterly scorching cheeks. Absolutely not. He absolutely did not just think about kissing Martin Blackwood. that was- that would be...

He blinks hard, clears his throat. It doesn’t matter what that was. He’s decidedly not interested in Martin Blackwood romantically, or in any other capacity given his truly ridiculous academic competence and his obnoxious habit of interrupting seemingly every stable thing Jon has in his life. He crushes the feeling down hard, locks it up in a box, stuffs it down under his lowest two ribs, and resolves himself never to open it again.

He is not going to keep thinking about this all day. He has work to do, and if something as simple as a pair of metal studs can distract him this badly, then he needs to make absolutely certain it doesn’t happen again.

He tells himself he’s not disappointed when he sees Martin without the piercings later that day.

[henrys-little-princess]

Hi darling! Congrats on your followers ☺️☺️☺️ Could you do the “my shower broke can I borrow yours” for Clark Kent x reader if no ones requested already? ❤️❤️❤️

hi darling!! thank you so much :) id love to do that prompt for you!! sorry its taken me so long to get to the rest of my bingo prompts, the last one should be up sometime next week, fingers crossed!! i haven't written a meet cute yet for y'all, but i really like how this one turned out!! -xo poppet :)

clark kent x female!reader, rated t!

word count: 1.5k

tag list (inbox to be added!): @thereisa8ella @myloveforhenrycavill @lharrietg @little-brattyangel

You had gotten up early even though it was a Saturday since you had apparently forgotten to turn off your alarm. And then you hadn't been able to fall back asleep, so after a half hour of looking at your phone you decided to get up.

You washed your face and brushed your hair and your teeth but decided to stay in your pajamas since you still felt half asleep anyway, opting to just pull on a sweatshirt instead as you went into the kitchen.

You opened your fridge and decided that you might as well make yourself some eggs. You had just put the carton on the counter when there was a loud knock at your door.

You frowned as you walked over to the door of your apartment. You weren't expecting anyone and the only person who ever knocked on your door was the old woman across the hall occasionally to ask if you had seen her cat. You never had and you were starting to doubt that she even had one.

But on the other side of the peephole was not your elderly neighbor, but an incredibly attractive man. An incredibly attractive shirtless man. You slapped your hand over your mouth in case he could hear the squeak that you let out. You didn't want to scare him away. Certainly he was at the wrong apartment. You never got unannounced visits from attractive shirtless men!

You debated whether or not you should open the door. On the one hand, he probably had the wrong apartment and it wouldn't matter. But on the other hand, you wanted to talk to him. You looked down at your pajamas and sighed. Of all mornings not to have gotten dressed!

But your curiosity won out and you opened the door, trying to smile brightly despite your nerves and keep your eyes on the mans face. Even though his chest and his abs were incredibly attractive and somehow shimmering in the awful, yellowish light in the hallway and-

Focus Y/N!! You screamed at yourself.

"Hi ma'am," he said and you did your best not to swoon at the creamy richness of his voice. "I just moved in across the hall and I've been having some issues with my shower and I think it's broken. I know this is awkward, but could I borrow yours?"

You blinked at him, trying to focus on his words and not the beautiful lips that they were coming out of.

"Ma'am," he repeated again, looking at you with his gorgeously deep blue eyes, deeper than any lake you had ever seen and shielded by a pair of plain black glasses.

"Please," you managed to squeak out in a somewhat steady voice. As long as you didn't look down at his chest and the low riding band of his sweatpants across his hipbones you would be fine. "Call me Y/N."

He stuck out his hand to you, a smile stretching across his perfectly pink and plump lips that you were still trying so hard not to admire. "Hi, Y/N. I'm Clark."

You felt yourself smiling. What a perfect name for such a perfect man.

It was at this moment that his question finally registered in your head and you opened your mouth to answer it. "Of course you can borrow my shower, Clark." You opened your door, trying not to think about the fact that very, very soon there was going to be a very beautiful, very naked man standing in your shower, probably judging your frankly outrageous collection of Lush and Bath and Body Works products.

Why did you tell him yes, Y/N!! You screamed at yourself again. You were going to have to have a serious talk with your mouth later for saying things that it would later regret.

You led him down the hall, trying your best not to trip over your own feet as you made your way to the bathroom.

"Do you need a towel?" you asked.

"I have one," he said, gesturing to the towel that he had thrown around his neck that you hadn't noticed before because you had been too busy looking....elsewhere. You felt your cheeks heat up and you quickly looked the other way, stepping out of the bathroom to give him his privacy. No matter how much you secretly wanted to stay and join him.

"There's soap in there," you called over your shoulder.

"Thanks, Y/N," he said before shutting the door.

You walked over to your bedroom and flopped down face first on the bed. Once you heard the water click on you moaned loudly, knowing that Clark wouldn't be able to hear you over the water.

"'There's soap in there?' Really? No shit there's soap in there, it's a shower for fucks sake, Y/N!" you muttered to yourself, utterly unimpressed with your flirtation skills. You allowed yourself a few more moments to feel sorry for yourself before throwing on some clothes. They were still casual, but definitely a step up from pajamas. Hopefully that would at least make a better impression on Clark.

The shower was still going when you left your room so you went to the kitchen again and saw your forgotten carton of eggs still sitting on the counter. You took out a pan and started making a few, putting two pieces of toast in the toaster. Maybe you could interest Clark in some food. It was still early and you doubted that he had eaten yet. That might make up for your bad flirting and general awkwardness.

You became so absorbed in the task of making sure that the eggs were perfect so that you would impress Clark that you did not notice that the shower had turned off or that he had come out of the bathroom.

"Hi," he said and you nearly jumped two feet in the air.

"Oh my god, you scared me!" you said, trying to calm your fluttering heart as you tried (and failed) to keep your eyes on your pan of eggs. Clark was standing in your kitchen, water dripping from his dark hair down his still bare chest, getting caught in the little rivets between his abs. You thought that at least this time you could blame your red cheeks on the heat from the stove. Didn't this man own any shirts?!

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer you you. He was holding his towel this time and wearing a different pair of pants. These ones were a pair of relaxed fit jeans that fit over his hips and butt very nicely and you tried not to stare. Thankfully though, your eggs were finished and you reached up to the cabinet for two plates.

"I made extra, do you want some?" you asked, secretly hoping that he would say yes so that you could stare at him for a little bit longer. Well, that and your cooking was usually pretty decent. At least when you were making eggs.

"I couldn't impose..." he began but you cut him off.

"No." you said. "I insist."

You filled two plates with eggs and grabbed the toast out of the toaster, passing one of the plates to him along with a fork.

"So, you're living across the hall you said?" You asked, trying to start conversation in a way that wouldn't seem too awkward.

"Yes," he said between bites. "I just moved in over the weekend."

That explained why you hadn't realized he was living on your floor. You had been out with Y/BFF/N all weekend.

"Well, good to know that the cat lady's gone," you said and then immediately mentally smacked yourself.

"The cat lady?" he asked, smiling a thousand watt smile that you wanted to see more of.

"Yes the last lady who was living there was really elderly and every now and then she would knock on my door asking if I had seen her cat," you explained, putting your empty dish in the sink. Clark followed.

"Ah, that would explain why I keep sneezing," Clark said. "I'm allergic to cats. It must not be completely clean yet."

"I could come over and help you clean if you want," you immediately volunteered before you had a chance to think about what you were saying.

But Clark just smiled softly. "I'd like that," he said. "If your cleaning is as good as your eggs are, it's going to be fantastic." He winked and you blushed. "Let me just..." he picked up a pen off of your counter and uncapped it, grabbing your wrist with his large hand and furrowing his brows in concentration as he wrote his number on your forearm.

"You know I have post its, right?" you asked.

"This is so much more old school though," he smirked, recapping the pen and placing it back on your counter. "Thank you for letting me use your shower, and the eggs," he said, walking towards the door.

"Anytime," you found yourself saying. Talking with him was just so easy.

"It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Make sure you text me," he winked again as he shut the door behind him.

As soon as the door was safely shut behind him you jumped up and down squealing. That had certainly not been how you had been expecting your morning to go, but you were definitely not complaining.

[ray-ray-writings]

can you do like a drabble of like— i’m thinking of how to word this.. the reader is sams kid (in game ofc :3) and is like best friends with tubbo, tommy, and ranboo. just like i want to be their friend 😭 - 🍦

Even though I am a 20 year old American woman, I so very badly want to be there friend lololol.

You would meet them through your father. I feel you two would just be on a walk down the Prime path when your father’s name was called out from behind you by three unique voices. You two turn around and find the two of you are now being charged by three boys. Not knowing who these boys are, you begin to hiss after all, you are part creeper. But the three stop dead in their tracks and their eyes all flicker to Sam in a panic. But Sam’s hand comes and rests gently on your shoulder, “Y/N” His soft and grounding voice fills your ears, “It’s alright. These boys are friends. There is no need to go in defense mode.” At his words, you let out a soft breath and stop hissing as your cheeks fill with heat in embarrassment. “Sorry” you murmur, slightly glancing at the boys, but then to the ground. “It’s alright darling. You didn’t know. You don’t have to apologize for that. Deep breath,” He hums before taking a deep breath himself, helping you take a deep breath with him, calming down all the way. Once you’re completely calm you look up and see the boys have gotten closer to you due to your father’s beckon. “Boys, this is my kiddo Y/N. Kiddo, these are the boys. Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo.” He introduces. You shyly stick your hand out to them, “It’s nice to meet you.” Tubbo is the first one to grab your hand, “You too!” He cheers, shaking your hand enthusiastically. You also shake Ranboo’s hand who gives you a warm smile, and then you turn to Tommy but his gaze is focused on Sam. “SAM!! Why didn’t you tell us you had a kid? And a kid our age at that?!?!” He shrieks causing Sam to laugh. “Because I knew you would react like this. They’re a little shy, as you saw, and I didn’t want to overwhelm them” Tommy lets out a huff but turns to you and grabs your hand and shakes it. “It is nice to meet you. I wish it had been sooner, but I’ll take what I can get…. You want to hang out with us?” He asks. You look over to your father who gives you a small encouraging nod. So you look back to the boys and give them a small nod, “Yeah! I’d like that.” “Alright let’s go!” Tommy shouts, wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you along. “Hey wait! What did you guys need in the first place?” Sam calls out from behind you four causing them to pause for a moment. “We wanted to see if you wanted to hang out… But we’ve found someone better… Maybe next time!” The words cause Sam to laugh but gives you a wave and so off you go.

You four are so chaotic together. Like a lot of the time you and Tommy are forming prank ides and stuff for others on the server and Tubbo and Ranboo are like “Tommy, Y/N no” but you two are like “Tommy, Y/N yes!” And egg each other on. Sometimes you guys get caught and you have to take the heat and convince who ever it was that you pranked that you four were not involved in anyway… Nope, no sir not you four. Whoever it was you pranked never really believes you but you’re so well liked on the server that they let it slide. Sometimes you four will pull pranks on each other. Just little things like hiding something from each other or stealing something. Using invis pots and following them around. Cutesy funny stuff like that that make you all laugh at the end of the day.

You four are always there for each other, both physically, emotionally, and mentally.

You help Ranboo with his memory issues. You’re always very patient with him, helping him remember the simple things he may have forgotten. Just simple things like where he put things or what he was planning on doing that day. You also spend a lot of time making sure that he never feels overwhelmed. But if he does, you’re always there to help calm him down. You can very easily bring him back to reality and bring him back to earth. Reassuring him that he’s okay and that he hasn’t hurt anyone and that you’re not going anywhere.

With Tubbo, it’s making sure that he is okay from his time as President, and even before that. His time with Schlatt had a big effect on him and then the whole weight of the country was put on him at a very very young age and then it blew up… Twice… So you always assure him that he did the best he could with the cards he was dealt and although looking back now, you don’t agree with all his decisions, you understood why he made them. You tell him he can’t change the past but he can shape the future and make sure the things that happened never happen again to anyone.

For Tommy, you spend a lot of time standing up for him. It seems everyone is always being mean to him or picking on him, calling him annoying and stuff. He tries to brush it off, let’s out a laugh and tries to let it run off his shoulders but you can tell it hurts. So you stand up for him. Tell the person, whoever it may be, that Tommy is not annoying, they just are a big baby. They can’t handle it. You would then go on and talk about how amazing Tommy is and how much he’s done for his friend’s and family. How he is a fighter, how he’s fought for the things he loves and that are important to him. You often run out of breath and the person that was picking on Tommy simply mumbles an apology before rushing away. You would then pull Tommy in a hug and assure him that he was not annoying and that he was the best friend you’ve ever had. He will never admit it, but after that he goes home and cries. Tommy just cannot believe that you would do that for him…

The boys always have your back too. Whenever you begin to hiss and seem on the verge of exploding, the boys will always calm you down. Whispering words of reassurance and calm trying to get you to calm down. Tubbo usually pulls you in a hug and is like “You can’t explode now… Or I’ll be in the blast and we can’t have that” which causes you to giggle and calm down. I feel like you would get a lot of headpats because Tommy and Ranboo are def both taller than you and they want to show you affection for calming down. If anyone ever makes fun of you, you can bet your ass they boys are prepping to throw down. Like there have legit been threats of war because someone called you weird. One time, the four of you were talking to Dream and he made a slide comment about you and Tommy legit had to be restrained by Tubbo and Ranboo because he was screaming curses at Dream and almost punched him the face. Sam just so happened to walk by and find the scene and he rushes up and grabs Tommy from the two other boys, he is a lot stronger than them combined lol. But he asks what’s happening and you reluctantly tell him and his demeanor shifts to a whole darker tone. He let’s go of Tommy and pushes him toward the three of you that had gathered side by side. “Kids, go play… Or go do whatever you kids do… Dream and I are going to have some words.” “Dad-“ you try to interrupt and stop him, but you are very quickly being ushered away by your best friends to go explore or something. You never have a problem with Dream after that.

You four can almost always be found together or broken off into pairs. Whenever someone is looking for one of you, they absolutely will have to find all of you. You can usually be found in Tommy’s house, in your house, strolling around what use to be L’Manberg, or Snowshire. Sometimes you for will just leave and go on adventures, only telling Sam where you were going. You four weren’t really ever going anywhere, you were just exploring. You might be gone for a few hours you may be gone for a day or two… Who knows. But you four just explore, taking in anything and everything. You’ve found so many biomes and villages on your journeys. Tried so many new foods and smelled so many new flowers. These would be the times where you four can just let go, be kids. No country to run, no wars to fight, no manipulative assholes to worry about. It’s just you four. And you’re best friends

This was so bad lol. But I hope you enjoyed either w

[the-wee-woo-royal]

Table For One

WOOO!! ITS MY BDAY!!! I decided to finally finish an old wip of mine as a gift to myself.

This is actually the first fic id ever written over a year and a half ago But i was too scared to post it. It took a lot of editing and re-writing but i can now say im pretty confident with it.

Tagging (dm or comment to be added/removed): @obsidianfr3sk @greenalmond  @galaxy-creationz  @healing-winston-pratt @justsomerandomficsforrenegades

Almost an hour later (Yes, this was taking longer than expected.) he got a quick chime on his Renegade communicator from Prism. It was a brief message but the only word he caught was ‘Simon’, before the man himself stormed into his office.

There was a slight discomfort in Hugh telling him he was forgetting something important. He tried to wrap his head around it, but it was most likely another paper he needed to sign or something to approve. Sitting at his desk, he continued his work. The uneasy feeling was still present, but this time he brushed it off. Tonight he would get everything done and be able to go home in peace. 

And he was not happy. 

For as long as Hugh knew him, Simon radiated confidence, even when he didn’t completely feel it, but now he looked crushed. His eyes were rimmed red and his face was flushed, like he’d been crying… a lot. His usual tall stance was replaced by Simon holding himself, like he was on the edge of breaking.

 “Oh, My Love, what’s wro-.” Hugh cut himself off, as Simon seemed to fume at his words. Hugh took in his slightly formal attire.

It wasn’t a stray paper he’d forgotten. 

Hugh could already tell he’d be in loads of trouble, “Dinner,” he mumbled, lowering his head in shame. He looked back at Simon, who was breathing hard. He has his jaw set and his eyebrows knit together, and Hugh could tell more tears were threatening to fall. 

Simon was beyond furious, but it hurt even more that his husband completely forgot about him.

“Yeah,” Simon said sourly, “Dinner.”

They both stayed silent for a moment, and Hugh knew his actions would cause a bigger punishment than just having to sleep on the couch tonight.

Simon continued to look at Hugh for some sort of explanation. Maybe an apology? Hugh looked at his desk for a moment, he really didn’t know what to say because the outright truth was pathetic. Forgetting?! About the love of his life? 

He met Simon's eyes again, Simon crossed his arms and looked at him in a way that silently said what the hell?

Hugh took a breath, “Love,” he started softly, which caused Simon to scoff, “I’m sorry. I- um, I just- uh, just-” 

Simon cut him off, “You just what, Hugh? What was SO important that you completely bailed on me.” His voice getting a little louder with every word. 

There was another beat of silence, “Listen, I needed-” Hugh started, accidentally having it come out more fierce and sharp than he meant it to. He was instantly cut off again, regretting the start to that. 

Simon was not in the mood for his crap excuses right now and not with that tone.

“NO!” Simon yelled, “DON’T GET TO TELL ME TO LISTEN” Simon took a breath, trying to calm himself, but failed miserably. He glared directly into Hugh’s eyes. “I- I waited for you. An HOUR, HUGH, AN HOUR!” Simon’s natural calm composure was gone, he was shaking now, and a few escaped tears rolling down his cheek. “30 MINUTES IN THE RESTAURANT, LOOKING LIKE A COMPLETE LOSER WHO GOT STOOD UP! AND THEN  ANOTHER 30 FOR YOU IN THE CAR! WHY DIDN'T YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE? WHY DID YOU IGNORE ME?! WHY DID YOU FORGET ME?!” Simon started sobbing into his clenched fists, Hugh rushed to him but Simon put a hand out to stop him from getting closer. “I had to call Prism and have her tell me that you were still here! WORKING! YOU PROMISED ME WE WOULD SPEND TIME TOGETHER! THAT WE’D FINALLY GET A BREAK! BECAUSE I NEEDED YOU!... an-and I thought you needed me too.” So much anger dissolved into sadness after his outburst, Hugh gently grabbed Simon’s outstretched hand and pulled him into a tight embrace. There was a moment of hesitation before Simon buried his face in Hugh's chest. They stood there for a few minutes, only Simon’s crying echoing in the room.

Hugh knew that an apology was worthless at the moment. He messed up, again. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Not that they had too much spare time to start with, but most of their canceled dates were because of him. It was worse at the moment, because this was the first time he actually forgot.  

There was no way to tell how long they stood there, but it was long enough for Simon’s tears to slow and pull away from Hugh. 

Hugh straightened himself a little and looked down at his husband. He was never good with people crying and sadness, but he tried anyway. Hopefully, something was better than nothing right now, although it was unlikely, “I’m so sorry, I had so much work to do. I should have remembered to notify you,” Hugh said slowly, trying to comfort him.

Simon let loose a humorless laugh, “No, Hugh, you should have come,” Simon whispered drly, but the sadness was all the same.

He looked up at Hugh “You shouldn’t have called earlier to cancel. You should have come and been with me.”

“Hon-”

“No, don't sweet talk me. I want you to tell me why you find it impossible put a pause on Captain Chromium and take time to be my husband.” A few more tears rolled down his already damp cheeks. Hugh could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He felt so ashamed for causing his husband this hurt. He was heartbroken because of him. Simon continued with a wobbly voice, “I want my husband, Hugh, I miss him.”

Hugh thought of some reassuring things to say, but nothing could come out of his mouth. He could promise and swear that it'll never happen again, hold Simon tight and plead for forgiveness. 

But it wouldn't be real. They both would know it deep down. It would happen again because Simon was right, as usual. He just couldn't put a pause to his hero persona. 

Simon would ask a thousand more times and Hugh still wouldn’t be able to answer why. 

Simon took Hugh’s silence as the end of this argument for now. If there was nothing for Hugh to say, there was nothing Simon could do. 

“You finish what you need to do,” Simon said with more sniffles, looking at the floor. “I'm going home.” 

“Wait-” Hugh’s voice cracked. He didn’t want him to leave. Not like this.

Simon snapped back, “Why should I? Wait?! For how much longer?” Simon gave Hugh another questioning look but he went quiet again. 

Hugh watched as Simon fiddled with his hands and walked back to Hugh, and grabbed his hand that was limp at his side. Hugh looked at Simon confused as he placed something in Hugh’s hand and closed it for him. Simon used both of his hands to hold Hugh’s and brought it to his mouth, placing a delicate kiss to it. 

“Return it to me when you can be my husband again,” Simon whispered into his hand with closed eyes. 

Then he left. 

Hugh allowed his tears to fall when he opened his hand, the feeling of failure spreading through his body. 

Hugh couldn’t tell when, but he’d ended up kneeling on the floor, unable to take his eyes off Simon’s wedding ring shining back at him.

.

.

.

Right back to agnst.

Its short but i enjoyed re-writing it to better reflect my writing now (i love my old fics but i had some things to work on lmao)

I hope you liked it!!

[catsbiggestfanboy]

Happy Birthday Neku 2022

    He’d been back nearly a whole year now. There’d been a lot of ups and downs, new challenges to overcome and lots of appointments to make adjustments to life. It was almost like Neku had forgotten how to live for a little while. Thankfully things were much better and now Neku’s finally getting used to the new normal. 

    Neku woke up to his 20th birthday like any other day, which felt strange if they were honest. They stayed in bed only briefly to unplug their phone and check notifications. Friends that woke up earlier or were up later than them flooded their phone with birthday wishes. Neku smiled at their phone, responding with thank yous, hearts and confetti emotes. 

    They pulled themselves out of bed and started their morning routine with a shower and brushing their teeth. Through washing their hair, shower thoughts flooded in and something hit him, causing him to stop momentarily.

    They were an adult. Twenty years old. 

    Sure, Neku technically died twice and spent about three years in the UG, but it was still part of their existence and everyone else... thought things were normal those three years. Other having memories of something that never actually happened to Neku. But that didn’t change that his Soul was still twenty years old.

    If they were honest, Neku didn’t think they’d make it this far. For the past quarter of their life, they’d been living day to day just trying to get to the next, telling themselves things would turn around. Things would get better. He needed to live. 

    And now, here he was. There was a feeling of pride that washed over him. A smile was stuck on their face and likely would be for the rest of the day.

    They got out of the shower and started blow drying their hair in front of the mirror. There were many scars they could see on themselves, marks of how hard he fought to get to this moment. Many were fading and others still stuck out like a sore thumb. But the scars didn’t bother Neku anymore. Sometimes they’d admire them with a gentle touch or a questioning look as they recalled what happened to receive certain ones.

    For now they were focused on drying their hair. Once it was dry they returned to their room to pick out an outfit. Something comfortable for the day, something very Neku, a pair of black shorts, a purple shirt and a slightly oversized Gatto Nero hoodie. Then it was back to the bathroom to do a little hair styling. It didn’t take long since Neku was practiced at this point, but they wanted to be sure it was perfect for their birthday.

    Once everything was said and done, Neku gave one last look in the mirror with a smile before heading out for the day.

    It was full of spending time with friends and family, going out to eat and having a few drinks and shots to celebrate the day. He was excited to be able to show off their ID to get drinks and had it at the ready as they walked up to a new bar or stand.

    Plenty of gifts came in, Neku feeling awfully appreciative of them. Some of them were overwhelming and others were simple and sweet. Neku really didn’t want much. It was more precious to them to spend time with their friends. 

    They found a quiet izakaya as it was starting to get to dusk. People were getting out of work and heading home, some shifting into bars. The few close friends that stuck with Neku throughout the day were chatting amongst themselves and Neku was quiet for a little while, listening, thinking. There was a buzz they couldn’t manage to shake but had been on water for some time to make sure they could walk straight to make it home. They looked down and tapped their drink with their nails, watching the water gently ripple.

    A wash of solemn came over them as a memory came back. Sitting with a certain friend and getting lunch, they promised they’d share their first drinks together.

    Neku’s smiling face went from gentle happiness to pained sorrow as they remembered, continuing tapping their glass until they couldn’t will their hand to move anymore. Tears they didn’t feel coming spilled onto the table and surprised them when they hit their skin. Neku rubbed the tears away from their eyes and took a deep breath in which caught the attention of their friends.

    Of course, they all asked if they were okay and Neku looked up, faking a smile for a moment to reassure them and telling them it was fine. Just that they remembered a promise they weren’t able to keep.

    They were all Neku’s trusted friends. They knew the story of their friend and what happened. There was a silent understanding among them. One rubbed at his back and told him it was alright. Another ordered one more round of shots and passed them to everyone.

    Together, they picked them up and raised a toast for the friend that couldn’t be there that day. Neku joined with a sad but resolved smile and said his peace about his late friend. Even though he wasn’t there he was still in his memory and his heart and raising a drink for them was the least they could do. 

    It was their final drink for the night and it felt right to wrap it up that way. Neku cheered up over some time and was accompanied home with his friends. The group used the night to eat snacks and watched a couple classic movies at the birthday boy’s request. It was well after midnight when they all started to get tired and Neku allowed them all to stay the night. 

    They gathered blankets and pillows for their closet. All of them sprawled out across the living room in half drunken states, giggling as the lights went off before they attempted to find sleep.

    Neku stared up at the ceiling and he lay on the couch, thinking about all the gifts he received that day. The best gift he had received was life. It was precious to them to get the chance to have friends again and spend time with them. All of that was taken away once and they were glad to have that chance back. It was quiet, but a short prayer and thank you to a lost friend left their lips before they finally turned and drifted off to sleep.

[lunnybunny12]

Sirius Black x Reader (Soulmate)

A/N: This a soulmate AU (Takes place after deathly hallows and lets pretend Sirius is alive shall we) 

REQUEST: @graniairish​ hello love. i love your stories and for the first time i really dare to ask a request. could you maybe write a short story for me? reader is a muggle, and the great love of Sirius Black. she is his soulmate, his one. Because of the things that happened in the first war, she was bewitched with the obliviate spell to save her life. after Sirius is free again he finds her and tries to awaken her memories of him in the hope that she still loves him inside her soul. because for him she is still the one great love. 

Word count: 1438

No warnings 

Master list 

You were about 5 years old when you were told what soul mates were, why your parents and other peoples hearts would glow. You were told that when you met the love of your life, you'd get an overwhelming burn and as you got to know each other it would fade into a warm buzz. From what you'd heard it was the best feeling you could imagine. The youngest recorded soulmates were found in Edenburg in 1880 when they were 3 years old. As you got older however you fell out of love with the concept. Over the years you'd seen your friends, family even strangers find their mates and fall in love, have a family. You thought that you would have found yours by now. For all you knew they could have been in another country or even dead. There had been plenty of recorded cases of that on your time on earth.

Rain everywhere. Rain up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; Rain down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside of a great city. Rain on the garden, rain on the gnomes. Rain creeping into all the nooks and crannies of your roof; Rain running down your fogged window as you refined the details of your painting. The brush strokes had to be as careful and controlled as possible.

A sudden gust of freezing wind choked the warm air around you, breaking your concentration. You were not in the mood for talking the day you had to get the painting finished by that afternoon (or at least that's what you told yourself) and you weren't exactly dressed for guests.

"JACK!" you yelled throwing down your brush and marching to your front door. "You better have a good reason for being...." Your eyes widened in fear.

It wasn't your brother as you expected but a man you recognised in one of Jacks papers. He was looking right at you, his piercing eyes staring right at you, cementing you in place. By the way, he was dressed, he wasn't some hobo off of the street. He wore a green and yellow pinstriped coat that stopped at his knees, navy blue trousers with a matching shirt underneath and a dark waistcoat.

"I didn't hear you knock" you gulped, eyes looking to the closest vase in case you needed to defend yourself. "Why are you in my house?"

"(y/n)" the man smiled taking a step closer in which you took a step back and grabbed the vase.

"Don't take another step closer or else the vase won't be the only thing smashed into a million pieces." He stopped, face in shock.

"Who are you and why are you in my house?"

"I understand, you're scared but listen to me..." He extended his hands to shield himself. That's when you saw the wand on his hip, he was a wizard... and if he was going to hurt you he would've by now.

"You're a wizard? You here for my brother because if so he hasn't lived here for a year." you breathed slowly lowering your "weapon".

"I'm a wizard yes. My name is Sirius black" He breathed regaining his composure, his hands still out in case you changed your mind. "And no I'm not here for your brother but he did sent me here."

"Jack (your last name)? Tall, black hair..." "Has a mole on his left eyebrow and a tattoo of an owl on his hand yes that Jack"

It checked out your brother did indeed fit that description. You sighed and told him to follow you into the kitchen.

"Are you going to keep that with you? he joked talking a seat at your kitchen table.

"Yes, yes I am," you stated, turning on the kettle. "You're a complete stranger who just broke into my locked house, I assumed you used your magic. which begs the question... What was so important that you couldn't have wait long enough to knock on my door?"

Sirius just sat there with a smile on his face. Like when you haven't seen someone in a long time and you were catching up.

"Were not COMPLETE strangers, (Y/n). In fact, we're far from strangers and be happy to explain if you'd drop that vase. Id feel allot safer." He looked so smug and you were having non of it.

"Fine, but hand over the wand"

"Why?"

An equally smug smile was plastered on your face "Id feel allot safer."

"Touche"

Since your brother was a wizard, you understood most of the lingo. What each spell meant and how it worked. The manes of important places like Hogsmead and Azkaban were words you had to learn to simply have a conversation with people in the wizarding world. But there was one spell or charm or whatever the hell they called it that had slipped your mind quite literally, "obliviate".  Sirius told you it was a memory charm,  that could be used to erase specific memories from an individual's mind.

"Why would anyone want to use that charm on me?" you asked pouring the pair of you a cup of tea. "I mean sure I'm a muggle but Jack is a wizard."

Sirius had sunk in his seat a little bit, he knew that you wouldn't believed him if he just treat out said it so he did the only thing that he could think of. When you went to place his tea on the table in front of him, he grabbed your wrist, accidentally making you drop it.

"What the hell!" you began to yell until you felt an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. When you looked and saw your heart it was... glowing?

Where was the burning? why didn't it hurt? When you looked back at him, his chest was glowing too. That couldn't have been right, the only way it wouldn't hurt was if you'd already ... met.

Your heart was going a million times a minute and your breathing was too quick for it to be doing anything. Sirius stood up, still holding your hand. He was so close he couldn't lose you again.

"listen I know, I know it's confusing and scary and all over the place but if you give me my wand... I can give back your memories. Make you understand" before he finished the sentence you fished the stick out of your pocket and shoved it into his chest.

"Hurry up before I pass out!"

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

It was overwhelming at first when you met him. Like a fire was burning its way through your entire being, from the bottom of your toes to the tips of every strand of hair. It was a good burn, felt the same as blushing but internally. Then as if in sync, your hearts started to glow. For the first time in your life, you didn't feel so alone and he felt the same.

The pair of you were young and fresh-faced. Right out of school not knowing how ether of your worlds worked quite yet but you stayed together through it all. Years of emotions, conversations. arguments and apologies seemed to morph themselves into a relationship that worked for the pair of you. He was happy. You were happy.

Every smile and kind word, every annoyance, dances and songs you shared came flooding back to you. The day he was taken from you was the hardest thing you had to live with, you begged and pleaded with him to make you forget him and to save you from years of torturing yourself over what you could've done.... he did as you asked.

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

You woke up on the floor, Sirius arms wrapped around you with his head on your shoulder. He was holding you like you were about to shatter into a million peaces. He was always gentle with you, even during the times you didn't want him to be. He would always stroke your hair and kiss your head and... you remembered.

It was so quiet. The rain was still thundering on your window. The worlds still turned but you didn't care.

A content smile curled onto your lips as your hands glided to hold his face. He still held onto you.

" Its good to be back, Padfoot. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me"

He leant down and kissed you. It was so long and heated and filled with so much love you could've exploded. Your hearts still glowing with a warm buzz you had become so familiar with.

"How could I forget my Soul mate?"