#and moisturizer kinda does fuck all for me but you know what! putting straight up oil on my face puts my oil barrier back!

[vulpinesaint]

engaging in the time-honored tradition of boyhood by having a fucked up and unconventional skincare routine that is not actually a skincare routine at all :)

[the1975attheirverybest]

I need all the fluff and domestic Matty. So I'm imagining reader being super into skincare or make up (your pick) and maybe it's the early stages of the relationship and Matty is staying over at her place and she either putting her make up on or doing her skin care and Matty asks questions and she explains but maybe apologies because she's afraid of boring him, but he's interested in whatever she's interested in and he end up asking her to put make up/skin care on him as well.

Awwwww, yes, yes this is cute. I’m super into my skincare so this would legit be me, hahaha. Can you imagine? With his Manchester accent just consistently following up with “wut’s tha’ do? And this one?” Ugh I want himmm. Matty let’s have a sleepover!

——

Like, he’d brushed his teeth and gotten ready for bed. We know he sleeps in nothing but his boxers (thanks to his insta stories, rip 😔), so he’d slide under the covers. He’s got his book in his lap and his phone in hand, scrolling through as he waits for her to come to bed, but when it takes her a minute, he starts to wonder what she’s up to. He glanced over, and she’s by the mirror. He’s wondering what on earth could be taking so long, so he gets up, goes over to her, and stands over her shoulder with a weird frown on his face.

She sees him in the mirror and smiles “hi baby”

“Hi….uhh..what’re you up to?”

“Just gettin ready for bed. Did you need something? Don’t tell me I forget to get tooth-paste, I swear-“

“No, no! Found the toothpaste just fine. Smells minty fresh! Was just wonderin’ what you were doin’ here. What’s all this…stuff.” He accentuates the last word, popping his lips.

“Oh, the skincare you mean?”

“Yeah, like, why does one tiny human need all this? It’s all a marketing ploy isn’t it? Preying on the impossible standards for women’s bodies….”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I love your anti-capitalist, pro-women’s spirit here, but, some of this stuff is actually important. Women, men, non-binary folks…if you’re a person with skin…it’s good for you.”

He’s like curious now, so he takes a seat beside her. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well, this whole process actually starts…in the bathroom. You gotta have a good face wash. None of that scented, sugary crap. You want something that doesn’t strip your skin of its natural barriers.”

“I’m not gonna pretend to know what that means, but do go on…”

“After you’ve washed your face, you come over here, and, a good toner is a good start…”

“How the fuck do you know which one goes when? Look at all these…potions and lotions and…this is why women were accused of witchcraft in the 1600s. I bet you a man looked at their vanity and saw all these- fucking- bottles with droppers and shit…what on earth is all of it for??”

“Goes in order to thickness! It’s really simple actually…”

He nods, clearly asking for her to elaborate. “Okay, okay, look…” she smiles, excitedly grabbing all her little bottles and lining them up in a row, taking each one, and sampling the product on her hand. “See? This is the toner. It’s kinda like water. You see how runny it is?”

“Mhm…” Matty’s brows furrow and he follows along.

“Okay, now, this serum, look, pretty runny, but significantly thicker, right?”

“Yeah..’s a bit sticky, too. What’s it do?”

“Restores moisture, helps build the protein particles in your skin, protects from wrinkles…it’s best to apply it on a slightly damp face, cuz it bonds with the water molecules really well…”

Matty looks away from her concoction and straight into her eyes, smiling.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” She blushes, backing away and rubbing the serum onto the back of her hand.

“No, not at all! Quite the opposite, actually. I like how much you know about this stuff…” he picks up a random bottle from her collection. “Tell me about this what. What’s this?”

She giggles, shaking her head. “That’s just a vitamin C serum.”

“Like a vitamin tablet?”

“Pretty much, yeah, but for your face. Brightens and helps with blemishes and stuff.”

“And this one?”

“That’s moisturizer.”

“Yes, okay, I know what this one does!” His excitement makes her smile. “And, wait, you said in order of thickness, so…this would go last, obviously, no?”

“Exactly! You’re a fast learner.”

He smiles, clearly super proud of himself. “And…everyone’s meant to do this?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, everyone who wants nice skin, I guess?”

“Is my skin nice?”

His question makes her wants to burst into laughter, but she holds it in, “actually…it’s a little dry, to be honest.”

“Oi! That’s not a nice thing to say! You’re meant to find me irresistibly attractive!”

She lets her laugh out now. “Hey! You asked! Besides, you can still be attractive with chapped skin! It’s all that fuckin…smoking too. Doesn’t help.”

“Agree to disagree there.”

He picks up her serum. “Can I?”

“Yeah, you wanna hydrate that desert you call a face?” She applies a few drops to his face, rubbing them into his face gently.

Matty closes his eyes and sighs, contentedly. “Thought I was gonna hate it. But it actually feels quite nice.”

“Wait! I’m not done! You gotta seal it in with the moisturizer.”

“Oh, fun. Okay, let’s see how this one feels.”

“Fuck- why does it sting??!!! You said nothing about pain!!!” He winces, pulls away.

“Probably stings cuz your skin is cracked. How much water do you drink during the day.”

“Oh, no, it’s too early in our relationship for this conversation I’m not answerin’ that one…”

[dzpenumbra]

4/18/23

What a weird day. Rainy, still a bit sleep deprived. The day just floated by.

I did some pretty intense yoga today. I just went with a random video that popped up in my feed. It was centered around the concept of major life change, a concept to just kinda muse on today. I'd be lying if I said it didn't impact the course of my day.

The moss concept has just kept creeping into my brain more and more, and I gave in and started searching for more info on it. Growing tips, recommended setups, I even started browsing Instacart for Michael's and Lowe's to see if I could find materials there to get started. And, in the end, I think basic planters will be super easy.

Here's pretty much what I learned today. Moss doesn't technically need soil... which is fucking batshit crazy in itself, when you really just think about that... But I kept finding tutorials that were including... potting soil... Which I keep asking myself... "do I really need that?" I mean, I could literally just get gravel and throw some water and moss on it and that shit would be at home. I could bring a log inside and carve out a little trench in it like a fucking canoe or something, and then just straight up fill it with moss. Or I could put a gardening liner in it and put some dirt in there with the gravel, maybe it would make it grow faster? I honestly don't know. I know they love water...

I was trying to figure that part out, like... if moss doesn't need soil to live or reproduce, why do all these tutorials have not just "soil" but like... turbo potting soil as the medium? It just confused me. I'm not really understanding the science behind it. Probably because... there likely isn't science behind it, they're all just adaptations of other tutorials they found on the internet, copies of copies. This started to register when I read this same statistic that kept coming up. I searched "how long does it take for moss to spread", because I wanted to know whether it even grew/spread rapidly or not... And, it's breed specific... and the same exact fucking phrase came up on like 20 sites. "Between 6 weeks and 2 years, depending on the breed." Like... verbatim, same numbers, same phrasing, like 20 fucking sites. So... I mean... at least I'm getting a consistent answer, but the problem is... if everyone is just copy-pasting what the other people are saying and not checking... like the soil thing... You know? You end up with stuff like "Why are you doing that?" "Oh, it's just what you do... it's how you're supposed to do it." Non-answers, substitutes for "oh... I don't know, actually..."

So... I opened the doors for a ton of cool projects with that idea. I could grow moss in literally anything, really. A dish, a pot, a tray, I kinda like the idea of grabbing an old dried out log from the woods and making it into a decorative planter, kinda. One, because of the aesthetic, the natural look does a lot of the work for me. Two, because I can carve it... Three, it retains moisture, which the moss will need a ton of. The only thing I was a little on the fence about was like... mold and shit. Unwanted growth. Not really sure what to do about that.

The other idea that looked cool was actually doing a... water garden. Which is close to my idea, which I spelled out last night but I can tell again here briefly. Basically a converted table housing a mini indoor Zen garden with stones and a stream running through it circulated with the water pump I have from Max's old fountain. But, this water garden idea would be... a bit more water heavy. Like... almost an aquarium? But with a lot of stone features building up to form a land mass that has moss growing on it. So there's water in the whole thing. The only trick with that is... it's going to be standing water... which i don't really want. Unless.... I can rig up the pump right... hmm...

The trouble with the table idea is... I don't really know how to properly waterproof it... and that's kinda important... I could use a big metal tray, but that could possibly have corrosion problems. Plastic would be the best bet, but it tends to be a little... ugly... I could use a landscaping liner with the wood table, but that might just keep soil in and let moisture through, not really sure how that works. The key there would be sealing it properly so that the whole thing is contained and waterproofed, so the wood doesn't soak in water and rot. Or getting a perfectly sized plastic liner. But... I don't even have the table, so... this is all conceptual.

With the water garden idea, I can really use any glass container I feel like. The only caveat there being... if I want a water pump in there... I need to find a way of discreetly running the power cable out of the glass container. If I don't do the water pump... I will have to figure out how to clean the water, and likely have to do that regularly. Again, this idea is like... half fishbowl, half terrarium, but completely open, because there aren't going to be any animals contained in it.

So yeah, a LOT of ideas swirling around with that, and I might just play around and experiment with different versions and see how they come out.

I played more Per Aspera. The plot kinda... just disappeared? I'm well into end-game now. I'm still enjoying it, it's just... late-to-end game has been really grindy. It should be expected with a terraforming game, but like... really grindy. And they just... stopped doing voice line announcements for research, which is super weird... Like... I swear there was more fanfare for my first silicon mine than there was for finishing research on my first open-air city on Mars. Which is like... the primary goal of terraforming... And I finished the research, built it and started populating it and the game... didn't acknowledge it at all. Really odd. Maybe it's more hard-coded into the campaign? Maybe I skipped a few steps? I don't know. But because of the grindy-ness and just constantly pushing towards gigantic goals, it can be a huge time sink. And... it was again today.

That said, I did get some other life stuff done. I did dishes, and I actually cleaned by my art station. Crazy, right?

I somewhat sorted, but mostly just moved things into places. I'm just so used to living out of cardboard boxes, I swear. It's really weird. Plus, I don't have anywhere else to put shit so... yeah. I'm planning on sorting my pencils and pens and shit into my old plastic former tattoo equipment drawers, I might even have room for paint there. Maybe that will get my shit out of the big carboard box on the floor...

I guess I should probably talk about this. I found an old journal from 2017. Late winter-early spring. It was a journal completely full of psychiatrist-mandated symptom check-ins. I was seeing a prescriber at the counseling center I was going to, she had diagnosed me with epilepsy (falsely, and without an EEG to confirm her diagnosis, I might add...) and had me record any time I felt any "abnormal" symptoms of any kind. She doctor's-ordered this to someone with a laundry list of mental health-induced physical ailments dating back over 15 years at that time, closer to 20 now. She ordered me to constantly scrutinize my mental and physical state, with zero baseline on what "normal" is, at all times... for months. And I found the journal. Kinda weird how I'm the only person, short of maybe my ex, who has laid eyes on that journal... isn't it... And I flipped (I just mistyped "scrolled", good lord... XD) through the pages and just saw the same shit every fucking day, multiple entries a day. Numbness in the face, tingling in the extremities, fatigue, irritability, twitchy, shit like that. Every day. Multiple times a day. Over and over and over. Shit she was calling "micro-seizures".

To be honest, I feel the "numbness" feeling right now. Right side of my face, by the edge of my right eye socket, going up along my temple. Numbness in my fingertips, sure. Tingling in the extremities? Pay attention close enough, I'm sure you'll find it. Like... I could find every single one of those symptoms right now.

Oh and here's the kicker. About halfway through, I started to put stars next to entries when there was something not specifically a physical symptom involved. Like at least 14 days in a row were "slept like shit" or "barely slept". Many were "I'm having trouble logging because fights with my gf are interfering". I'm actually gonna get it real quick, there was a specific one that really hit me in the heartstrings that I wanted to share.

For context, this was after going on and off of at least 4 different epilepsy medications back-to-back - some with very severe side effects. April 26 *Depression/fighting have made me question the worth of recording these. Fights/seizures have escalated to dissociation, hallucination (surreality, seeing black in [my ex]'s eyes, thinking I'm in Hell and I am doing this to myself or I deserve it). April 27 PM->10 - numbness (temples, nose, chin, forehead) skin crawling visual (static, contrast, afterimages, ripples) surreal feelings tension (toes, jaws, temples) spacey *I feel like I'm losing chunks of time again. Depression is ramping up, being dropped by [my doctor] and rejected by specialists w/o a referral has nearly sent it over the edge.

There were 2 other entries after that. April 28th and May 2nd. Then it just unceremoniously ended. My prescriber left and dropped my case. She went to work as a psychiatrist for a local ER.

The dissociation/hallucination thing? That was a panic attack. 100%. I have the language for that now. That's the kind of shit that happens sometimes when I smoke weed. My definition of "hallucination" was a bit... off... back then. Probably because I have really severe anxiety and just thought I was fragmenting from reality in some Lovecraftian way... I'm a romantic, for better or worse... The really interesting part was... how much I had subconsciously already figured out at that point. Look at my formatting just in the first two sentences. Depression/fighting. Kinda seems more important than taking down these symptoms. Almost like... it's causing them? Fights/seizures... that's a fun one. See... my ex would kinda feed into my willingness to blame any mood fluctuation on these "seizures". In fact, after the "diagnosis"... the fights started to just naturally evolve into just being... me having a "seizure" and she was just... enduring it? Not that she was ridiculously bad at navigating any form of conflict because of her own completely unchecked mental health issues, and would just... somehow be completely innocent in every single one?

I'm gonna level, I was not the best human back then. I wasn't great at communicating, I was a little detached from my feelings, I was pretty bitter and sarcastic... Think Dr. House, my ex would compare me to him a lot. But I was never sadistic. I was never cruel. I was never mean-spirited. When it came to conflict... I was too invested. I wouldn't walk away. I wouldn't leave. The same as the issues with my mom that resulted in many-hour long fights. I endure. I stick it through to the end. I do my time. I do not walk away or give up. And I've always seen it as noble, as valiant, as something to aspire to. "Do not go to bed angry." That kinda thing. Like... the fight will not resolve itself, and if we just go to separate beds or I sleep on the couch and we reconvene the next morning and pretend nothing happened, we will 100% have the same fight again. 100%. There is absolutely no lesson learned there, no growth, that's flat-out evasion.

I have always been a firm believer that the only way of working out an issue is putting in the work, and doing that as a team means doing it together. And pretty much every fight me and my ex would have would be over some little fucking bullshit. Usually it was me bringing up something that I was noticing in her behavior that I felt was indicative of something wrong, and asking "what's up". Others were because of shit she just... wouldn't communicate? I mean... the more I look back, like pretty much every fight I remember was because of something she was just flat-out not communicating, not talking about, not sharing. And when I would bring it up, she would treat me as an aggressor. Like I'm attacking her by bringing that up. Like I'm volatile.

That naturally blended into the seizure narrative; because of the unpredictable nature of it, I'm sure. So fucked up, in hindsight. All of it. But like... it's my story, and I lived it and I've told it so many times that like... it doesn't sound weird to me at all, you know? But now that I have space from it a bit... yeah... that's real fucked up. So, I found it really convenient how, at that time... subconsciously... I wrote Seizures/fights as though the two were interchangeable. As though being in conflict with your ex is a medical condition you can suffer from, as though it was my fault. As though she had no part in it at all, as though it were a bunch of rogue sparks shooting off in my fucked up brain that she was suffering from - that I needed to chemically treat with medications. Fucked. Up. Shit.

As depressing and painful as my life has been this year. And the past few years too, to be honest. I can always breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I'm free of that fucked up shit. Knowing it's over.

So... that was a hard journal to find, hard to relive. But good news, I'm not crazy. I'm just a very sensual person, I experience life very fully, and I'm really depressed and really anxious, I get panic attacks sometimes and have some trauma issues I'm still working through.

But... you know... You know how sometimes... sometimes... even when you're not like consciously thinking or doing it... sometimes it can just be easier to stomach something painful if you convince yourself it's your fault. Like it's something you're doing to yourself, or something you've done. I think it's like a survivor guilt mechanism or something, or at least it works on the same premises, I guess? Idk. I'm speculating. I think sometimes it can be easier to accept that you're clumsy, or you're a piece of shit, or you're sick... than to accept that someone you love is mistreating you. Because like... if I'm crazy... then I just need to do therapy and take meds, and I'll do a really good job! I'll make it the center of my life! I'll be the best patient in the world! I'll journal every day, I'll do everything the doctor says! Then I can do something about it. Then I have some kind of agency in the situation, rather than just... being... a victim. Because... if the real problem... is that someone is mistreating me... well... I can't control their behavior, right? ...

I think a lot of this might just be a reflex responding to powerlessness. And a fear of losing a loved one. Or finding out they're not what I thought, so... denial. Staying in the dream world, because it's better than the alternative. And maybe that's a learned habit from really unhealthy relationships? Not knowing that it's not just okay for me to set healthy boundaries and say "no", but like... I have a right to it? And it's kinda essential to a functional relationship? But bro, you don't learn shit like that in my family. In fact, you'd be lucky to learn anything in my family unless you were on payroll and working in the office. Even then, they prefer to hire people who already have experience... <eyeroll>

Hi 4:20 AM. It's been a while. XD

You know... that whole freaking out because I'm afraid I'm in Hell, or freaking out because I'm afraid I'm Bruce Willis's character in The Sixth Sense or something. That surreal freakout shit? That's like... the only reason why I don't smoke weed. And my life would be so much more chill if I could just get over that hurdle. And... okay, I'm just going to say it. Because I need to just get this line of thought out of my head.

I'm considering as-needed meds. For anxiety. Specifically for panic attacks, but like... for anxiety. Here are my concerns. 1) I do not like driving under the influence at all, even a little, and I'm afraid most of my as-needed moments would be to get me to comfortably leave the house. 2) I do not want to be on a regular dose of benzos. I have been through the withdrawal 3-4 times now and every time it was life-shatteringly bad coming off of them. I do not want it to accumulate in my system. 3) I don't know if anyone will actually prescribe them to me. 4) I'm sketched out having to walk back a mile from the pharmacy in an iffy neighborhood with a controlled substance on me.

Just thoughts. I just... I'm getting really tired of just soldiering through shit. Like getting teeth drilled without anesthesia, just because people will judge me if I get numbed up. And like... if I had a safety net? I feel like I'd be able to confront fear a bit more comfortably. This whole fear-of-fear thing compounds so quickly. So I'm like... afraid of going outside because I'm afraid that when I'm out there I might get afraid of someone who looks like they don't have good intentions. It gets so abstracted, its ridiculous. But the big thing that like... stops me from engaging with the bigger fears... is the whole being alone thing. The vulnerability of it. When I talk about this shit with other people, it makes it much easier. That's why this helps a lot, the journaling. I know it's a placebo effect for the most part, I'm sure no one really reads this far besides me... but the thought that someone is sharing this space with me... it comforts me. It makes it easier to face. So... I keep doing it. And it's been super helpful. If I had more things like that, more things to reduce Fear's power over my decision-making, more tools to make questioning and exploring my fears... gentler. To make that process feel safer. That would make a world of difference.

Even typing this, I have no idea what I think is going to happen. It's frustrating. It really feels like engaging with fear is like opening Pandora's box. Oh my god, okay, it's like my big change with horror movies since I reconnected fully with my gigantor emotional experience of life. Horror just... went away. It was too real, I couldn't do it anymore. And I loved horror movies, psychological horror was by far my favorite genre! Now, it feels like if I watch a horror movie... I might ruin my week or something, I might have nightmares or haunting invasive thoughts. Like flashbacks that visit me periodically, like those mental images of my cat laying on the bathmat in my bathroom that haunted me every night for like a month after she passed. I get stuff like that constantly. I think that is what I'm avoiding.

Imagine if I could take those thoughts and just imagine they were a leaf, and I'm sitting on the banks of a fast flowing river. Like the river I used to visit that I spread my dog's ashes in. And I could just take that invasive thought - a thought that was essentially just a residual nagging way-way-way-too-sensitive fire alarm going off, letting me know about a hypothetical threat that isn't actually present - and I could put that thought/leaf on the river... and let the river carry it downstream. "But what if it's important..." XD

Okay, I really need to lighten the mood here and wrap shit up. Um... I did a little more work on the animation? Figured out the flickering problem, it's the camera. So I'm just overhauling the camera movements entirely. We'll see where it goes tomorrow. I played guitar today, which was nice. I started learning Echo Chamber by Veil of Maya. I like the way they play, it's really similar to a lot of the stuff I used to write so I can pick up the phrases pretty well. But it's new enough and complex enough that it's really stimulating and a fun challenge. Just to inject some positivity here... I'm really impressed in my ability to retain my guitar skill. I know I've been playing since I was 13, so... 23 years? Fuck... Yeah, I know that, but like... I switched over to drums as my primary instrument like...3-4 years ago? At least? And to know that my guitar skills are still there that naturally, after this much time since playing regularly? It's really pretty crazy. Like riding a bike, I guess.

Alright, off to bed. Here's hoping for peace and love, sending out my wishes to the world regardless of how much the cranky insecure unhappy people want to mock the gesture. The world needs more peace and love.

[mythiccheroacademia]

Hey!! Could we please get more sugar daddy fics with a black reader ofc 😋 idk if you've done shoto already but that'd be nice or hawks and deku💕

A/N: “wrist on glitter, waist on thinner, imma show you how to bag a eight-figure nigga” 👅💋 I enjoyed this way too much

All characters are 18+

Warnings: it got a lil spicy so imma put the line 

Todoroki Shouto:

this mf has money to burn 

we all know todoroki came out the womb w cash from his hair to his ass 

he’s on some “yes, jeff bezos knows me” type shit so if you’re tryna end up with someone that’s gonna possibly buy you a house, he’s your guy 

he slid into your dms after you posted a pic with your skin moisturized and glistening under golden hour and your body had him wanting to run laps 

he had been plottin on you for a min but never got the motivation to do something about it until then

he’s a no strings attached type of sugar daddy

todoroki is a big name even outside of hero work and he’s well aware of all the people that have tried to use him. so instead of letting that happen, he’s decided to do things on his own terms 

when yall first started talking, he questioned you like this was managerial position at apple 💀 

best believe he ran an in-depth background check and made you sign an NDA 💀💀💀

he was a tough one

but you passed w flying colors and y’all settled on an arrangement

you have a weekly allowance that hits your bank account every saturday with some bonuses that he’ll give you depending on how the week goes

todoroki isnt needy nor is he one to be all up in your business 

it’s actually weird in an endearing kind of way? 

he only wants to have conversations with you 

i mean, dont get me wrong, he’s up for anything you are

todoroki would be a liar if he said he never ended some nights with a picture of you and a hand down his pants 

but that’s not what he’s mainly looking for 

you figure out very quickly that shouto just wants someone to talk to 

he’ll randomly hit up your phone and have a 30 min convo about something like the weather or hero politics, and then he’ll dip

next thing you know, you got $1000 in your cashapp

you kind of panicked bc like...wtf? 

your dumb ass messaged him: “did you mean to send $1000?”

sis, dont put a question mark where God put a period

him: “Yes.”

and that was the end of that

you dont question anymore

he’s not doting in any kind of way, and sometimes you lowkey think he forgets about you, but you still get your allowance 

doesn’t send a lot of gifts unless you explicitly state you want something

he doesnt text back a lot, but he tried to respond when he can

but i do see him liking it when you send him mundane things you do throughout your day, like pics of cookies you baked, or a cool plant you saw at home depot

and he enjoys the times you and him end up just trashing his father for nearly an hour. expect to find flowers, with some expensive ass coats or something at your door the next morning 

he really fucks w your laid back vibe 

sometimes he forgets you guys arent really supposed to be friends 

Takami Kiego (Hawks):

this is not hawks�� first time being a sugar daddy

he’s hot, rich, and one of the most eligible bachelor’s in japan with a life that prevents him from having anything too serious

so, long story short, he’s a veteran at this 

he used to be the type to reach out to instagram baddies but he had a couple bad run-ins and decided to stick with the official sites because it was a lot more secure on both ends 

the funny thing was, you set up your account a long time ago as a joke. though at one point, you did take it seriously, but you came in contact with a lot of super creepy men that sexualized you for your skin and ethnicity. 

you were tired of the “chocolate king/queen” and “amazonian god/dess” comments,so you took a break. you didnt have much activity since

so imagine youre surprise when the #2 hero hit your line talking about some 

“Hey~ I’ll get straight to the point. I think you’re beautiful and I’d like to talk with you about an arrangement” 

you thought this was a fake account, but after he chatting for a little and sending some pictures, you knew he was the real deal 

hawks is your standard tit-for-tat transaction sugar daddy

he’s the type to hit you up at night with a “how ya doing, dove? got any pics for me?”

he’s good about his respect ad won’t do anything out of line

it’s the bare minimum, be he doesnt fetishize you so that’s always nice 

however, he does make you call him daddy, sir, etc. whether it’s through text, call, or when y’all get together for...reasons

ngl his dicc game is fire

he might ghost you for a week or so but he’ll always come back with a nice check to make up for it 

just be careful about catching feelings bc he’s so fucking smooth. he makes you feel like you’ve got his heart, but dont fall for that shit

if you think you can “change him” or fuflfil whatever wattpad romance fantasy lives in your head, he is not your guy. you better get on w your life before you get your heart broken

he’s here to suck, fuck, send pics, do a little phone call here n there, send some money, and go 

if you’re not with all that, you might as well dip 

but if you’re cool with that, rest assured, you’re gonna be living your best mf life with this man in your wallet 

and good news, you might not be his only, but you are his favorite

there’s just something about you that’s got him giving you a few extra thousand than he normally does 

he doesnt take his sugar babies on proper dates bc he’s gotta stay away from media outlets, but he will invite you to his office for a “lunch break”

if you ever surprise him with a cute but sexy hawks cosplay, you won’t have to work for two whole weeks bc you cant walk  

overall, he’s a good sugar daddy. defintely good for your pockets and any other non-romantic desires you want fulfilled

Mirodirya Izuku:  

the way you two met and came to this arrangement was more or less an accident

the life of the number one pro-hero was lonely and stressful 

he’s tried to dip his toes in the water here and there, but it never worked out because not many people could deal with the fact that he’d always put hero work first

he was teetering on the edge of signing up for one of those sugar daddy/baby websites until he met you at some cafe he passed by 

it’s cliche really. you were his server and, honestly? he was hooked on day one 

he watched you intently as you pranced around in your cute uniform. he couldnt stop admiring your brown skin and eyes and how cute your hair was. you spoke with such enthusiasm and cheerfulness that he couldnt help but swoon. and it didn’t hurt that you were very easy on the eyes

he listened to you as you went on a spiel about how college was a fortune and how you stayed up last night for a project bc you had to pick up extra shifts

that’s when he made his decision

by the time the hero is out of the door, you collected the reciept and almost fainted when you realized he left you a $500 tip and his personal number 

“i enjoyed talking to you today and i hope we can continue that...here’s something small to help with your bills. and i hope this isnt too forward but you’re very beautiful. stay safe. deku.”

and what did you do that night?

you called his ass right back

you were nervous as hell bc you still couldnt believe this was real, but after talking on the phone with him for two hours, an arrangement was set

midoriya is the most gentlemen like sugar daddy out there 

you wake up to good morning texts and a few hundred in your bank account almost every two days 

he goes crazy over your insta posts. and if you wear something green? expect a bonus

takes you out shopping unprovoked 

izuku: “are you busy? i saw you were having a rough week and was wondering if you wanted to go to that new outlet mall downtown”

you: 🏃🏾‍♀️💨  

you most certainly had homework due that night but what tf you look like missing out on that offer? 

it’s after so many “dates” that deku realizes that he prefers hanging around you more than he should but he doesnt wanna ruin anything so he keeps that underwraps 

he’s the idiot that goes into this thinking he won’t fall in love

deku defintely has some dirty thoughts about you but he doesnt try to bring it up unless you do first

if you’re comfortable with anything nsfw, you gone see a whole different side to izuku

he’s a giver, giver, giver, but when he recieves, he just about loses it

send him “innocent” pics of yourself matched with a string of filthy texts and he’ll combust 

when you send him pics of yourself in deku-themed lingre, he deadass sends you a whole black card with your name on it as a thank you

you guys get very comfortable with each other very quickly

soon enough, DA’s start turning into y/n stayng over for a week 

you both realize this relatiosnhip runs a lot deeper than an arrangement when he accidentally let it slip that he told his mom about you 

he’s profusely apologizing but you shut him up with a kiss and tell him that you’ve kinda caught feelings yourself 

your next conversation works out well for the both of you 

[zankivich]

An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 1

a/n: *sticks head out* omg hi. It’s been a while. A long while. Somehow I am back writing for another white man, a different one this time. We can only hope he does not disappoint as drastically as the last one does. I genuinely have no idea if this is good? I think it’s kinda cute, and I’ve been feeling very traumatized in regards to blackness lately so I really needed some black and brown women having a good time and being happy. We deserve that tbh. There could obvi be another part to this. Let me know if anyone even cares enough for that lol. Okay bye now. 

Part 2 Part 3

There’s an unspoken rule amongst you and your friends. Like a secret code, if you will. If a man hits on you at the bar and you’re not interested, and friends always know when you’re not interested, swarm and diffuse the situation. But? If a man hits on you at the bar and you are interested? Then that is a different story entirely.

It was a Thursday night out with the girls. You were at your favorite bar. It was quiet and quaint but still modern enough to attract a younger crowd. Sometimes there’s nothing better than getting dressed up and sipping on drinks with your girls. No dancing or club hopping or excessive uber rides. Just one bar, shit talk, and a lot of bacardi.

You were all sat directly at the bar in high standing chairs, Your back was turned to the entrance as you listened intently to your friend Tanya complain about her latest Hinge hook up.

“Can you believe I took my fine ass self all the way over to that nigga’s house in satin shorts? Satin! And he had a pizza box on his bedside table and the second he laid me down my back hit a bong. Make it make sense Jesus.”

Tanya was a beautiful Black woman. She was taller than all of you at six feet, and she strutted every step. Her skin was deep espresso and she was almost always rocking a vibrant colored wig that matched a vibrant colored outfit. Tonight’s color was lavender.

“I don’t know how many times we have to tell ya ass to stay away from them white boys.” You snorted, sticking your tongue out in search of your straw.

Your friends, Tanya, Raya, and Jesse all did a collective eye roll in your direction that did not go unnoticed.

“Yes ladies?” You asked with a straightened spine and arched brow.

Jesse was one of them girls you would have hated in high school. Skinny waist, slim thick thighs, and skin so clear that her Puertio Rican skin was only left to dazzle and shine. She had long, tight curls that hung all the way down to her belly button, and she always kept them gelled down and tied back. She, like all of your friends, did not hold back when it came to the group. You were honest, thick as thieves, and frankly a little brutal.

“You don’t even count. Your refusal to go near a white man is excessive and weird.” She cackled. “You're just as bad as Tanya, just on the other end of the spectrum sis.”

“Excuse me? Now Tanya dates boys...I date men. You see the difference? And if I am gone lie in some ivory sheets there’s gonna have to be some extra special attention being paid to me. And trust, there always is.”

You stuck your tongue out lewdly and laughed sending the whole table into a fit of giggles. You all clinked your glasses together and revelled in the atmosphere of melanin, acceptance, and tomfoolery. What a group.

“You tellin’ me that if a fine ass man walked in here right now and checked every box: his own money, his own car, intelligent, funny, etcetera,  and he just happened to be of the vanilla variety you wouldn’t bite?” Raya asked.

Raya was the thickest of the group, voluptuous in every sense of the word and also the only one happily married. She just put up with y’all honestly.

You rolled your eyes through with the conversation already.

“I’m saying...he’d have to be pretty fucking special and pretty fucking dedicated. Men are a headache as it is. I don’t need the added layer of some man pulling at my weave like I’m Lilly Ane from his hometown,  or asking me to do race play in the bedroom. Now I’m going to the bathroom and when I come back I’d like for us to talk about literally anything else? Okay? Okay.”

You slid out of your seat and headed for the bathroom with the grace and power of a woman in her thirties who had managed the insecurities of her younger self and had decided to only live her life revelling in her own excellence.

If Tayna was the darkest of the group you weren't at all far behind. If she was expresso, you were simply an americano with a dash of cream. And you rocked it with a full head of curls that ranged from nappy to bursting with life and moisture depending on both the day and temperature. It was all set upon the shoulders of a woman with curves and hips and chest. It was your body and you loved it endlessly, a matter quite evident in the way you walked.

That night you were wearing a coral pink jumpsuit with a long, flowy kimono and heels to match. Your kimono billowed behind you and made you feel fierce, even on the walk to the bathroom, which is perhaps why you weren’t paying that much attention. One second you’re strutting in the heels that you only wore when there wouldn’t be too much standing, and the next you’re slipping on some liquid that must have been spilt on the floor. Your whole life flashed before your eyes. The wind flew out of your lungs. This was the end…

And then you were caught by the waist. Not caught, more like gripped. Firmly. And perhaps not the waist so much as the hips. You expected to be lying straight on the floor staring up at the ceiling, and instead you were staring at a chest. A firm chest. No not firm. Chiseled might be a better description. So chiseled that your hands began to wander amongst the suit clad flesh before your mind had caught up with you. Heafer.

“Oh my god. Thank you so much. I’m so sorry I can’t believe I--”

You peered up into deep blue eyes and let’s not forget that your fingers were still wandering along that chest. Had a chest ever been so broad? No. Not unless you count Captain America apparently.

“Please, I always like to pull a rescue mission before dinner. Makes me feel like I earned my meal.” He grinned down at you.

Chris Evans. What are even the statistical chances? You wouldn’t know, you were too busy drooling.

His hands were still on your hips. Yours still on his chest. And now you were just plain staring at him. Good look.

A waiter with a towel to clean up the mess broke up the moment by clearing their throat and alerting the two of you that you were way too close to one another still.

“Oh--Oh.” You mumbled idiotically. “You’re…”

He nodded. “Chris. And you are?”

“I’m...I’m…”

The waiter snickered under their breath and you realized just how much you were ruining this moment. You straightened your spine and tried to act like you had some sort of sense.

“I’m y/n. Thank you again for the save. I was actually just on my way to the bathroom so I’ll uh let you get back to your night and try not to fall on you again.” You smiled.

“Yea, we definitely wouldn’t want that would we?” He asked.

But the way his face was looking told you maybe he might not mind it after all. Sheesh.

“Okay well uh you have a nice night, Chris.”

You tapped at his hands on your hips and he quickly stumbled back with an apology. It was the first time he looked even the slightest bit flustered in your interaction with him. You found that you liked it.

“You have a nice night too, y/n.”

You smiled at him one final time before walking to the bathroom as you had intended. But he didn't leave your mind the entire time you were there. And not just because it was Chris Evans, it didn’t feel fair to call it star struck. That was too simple, too miniscule.  Instead it was the way his hands had felt on your hips. You had the tendency to lean away from men, didn’t feel comfortable with them when you didn't know who they were. And yet there you had stood, completely at ease in his hold. You couldn’t explain it even to yourself. He had just felt right.

“Of course he felt right, he’s practically a figment of your imagination.” You mumbled to yourself at the sinks.

That was it. He didn’t even count. The only time you ever saw him was on your netflix account, so surely your perception was warped. The reality was that Chris Evans was just another white man who looked good in a sweater. The end.

That’s what you convinced yourself as you walked back to your friend, but not without taking extra precautions against the floor. By the time you arrived back at your table you had done the mental gymnastics needed to completely eliminate him from your system. Good girl.

“Now, I trust you all found something better to talk about while I was away.” You grinned as you slid back into the table.

All of your friends were snickering behind their hands and they wasted no time at all laughing at you.

“Oh did we!” Jesse laughed. “You see we had just moved on to a new topic when a little someone got a drink delivered to the table.”

Your eyes widened as Jesse pushed a glass of what looked like processo closer your way. She then pointed over by the bar leading the entire table to turn that way. Seated by his seat with his arms leaning against the bar, shoulders even broader against the wood, was none other than Chris Evans himself. As if on a Hollywood cue he turned to look at you with a smile that was both innocent and filthy at the same time. He lifted a drink of his own in the air and tilted it in your direction in silent cheers. If you had been ten shades lighter you’da blushed like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous.

“Now...What was that you were saying about white boys sis?” Tanya asked.

You groaned to yourself softly and plopped your head down in your hands in embarrassment. This was only to notice that your sparkling glass of prosecco was perched upon a napkin with his phone number written upon it. Home boy was slick and he was bold. A man confident enough to come put himself out there, and respectful enough to do it in a way that wasn’t disruptive or rude to your friends nor yourself. It was the sort of thing that made you take notice for sure, which explained why your girlfriends were looking at you like cats that had just discovered the canary.

“What? What?! What?” You gasped at the table, clearly annoyed.

Jesse grinned. “What’chu mean ‘what’, mija! You gone get your mans or what?”

They all giggled and looked clearly in his direction, only embarrassing you further.

“Stop it!” You hissed. “He is not ‘my mans’ by any stretch of the imagination. He probably just feels bad for me slipping. I fell and he caught me. Clearly he’s a gentleman, which is nice but that don’t mean nothin.”

“Girl please! This man done sent you prosecco and a phone number. That’s like a rich modern version of a love letter. You better go talk to that man.” Raya snorted.

Women who hype up other women are the world’s greatest treasure. You loved your friends with everything in you, and you valued all of their intellects greatly. However, this was not a regular-degular man. This was literally a superhero. You had confidence for days, but this was simply a different stratosphere. You were just about to silence your friends again when a ghost must have descended because everyone else began to gasp.

“Girl he movin’. Captain America is comin in for the landing.” Raya stage-whispered.

“Oooo you know what? Suddenly I have to pee.” Tanya mumbled.

“Oh me too!” Jesse nodded.

And just like that….your table was empty. The audacity!

“Wow. I sure can clear a room huh?” He chuckled, stepping up beside you. “I hope I don’t offend too much.”

You sighed turning to face him head on.

“You certainly do not offend. In fact, I think my friends are around some corner cackling like the witches they are. They just wanted to give you space to shoot your shot.”

He smiled with a raised eyebrow. “My shot, huh? I better not fuck it up them.”

You shrugged, eyes raking gently over him. Beyond the obvious attraction, it was important for you to search for any warning signs. His body language was good. He had one hand draped over the back of your chair, but he stood two steps back from the table so that he wasn’t over-crowding your space. He seemed to be aware of himself physically, an important marker in your estimation. He was playful enough, but also clearly interested if he’d decided to come up to the table after all that. This did not bode well for you at all. The man was kinda nice.

“I just wanted to see if you were enjoying your drink is all.”

Your fingers flitted with the glass before pulling it to your lips for a sip. The way his eyes seemed to follow the motion had a heat pooling in your gut.

“I do enjoy a good prosecco.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. I didn’t want to be too forward but uh--I think you’re stunning and  I was wondering if I could take you out sometime.” He murmured.

Your legs were crossed in your seat, and you bobbed your leg a little, anxiety coursing through you.

“Were you afraid the number on the napkin was too subtle?”

He chuckled softly, eyes falling to the ground in an almost...embarrassed fashion? Lord, please.

“Sorry, I tend to second guess myself. I never know how people are gonna take me with my line of work. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to set up a one night stand or something. Wanted to show you I’m genuinely interested.”

Well that was unnervingly wholesome. Where they get this man from?

You let a small grin form across your mouth, a metaphorical step forward closer to his very inviting energy.

“Well, I do like the sound of stunning.”

“Yea? I think I could say some other stuff you’d like too if you give me a chance. What do you say?”

He licked the edge of his lip and it really was so miniscule but it had your thighs tightening in a way that was unholy. Rude.

You couldn’t say yes just off principle. Ten minutes ago you had just shamed all your friends for their white proclivities and the first one that walks off the street and bats his eyelashes at you causes you to cave? The hypocrisy! But...he was fine. Like capital “F” fine. Fwine with a “w”, fine. And it’s not like he was going to take you home to pizza boxes and lost bongs and then hit you up for gas money later. He was more set in his life than you were. Him being rich wasn’t even for you to utilize; it just felt good to know that he was accomplished and secure for himself. Again you dated men...not boys. And yet still you found yourself in such a conundrum.

“You look hesitant.” He noted, eyes locking onto yours.

You nodded. “I am...Excuse my bluntness but I had just gotten done explaining to my friends that dating white men often comes with more hassle than good. It can be difficult to connect cross-culturally. And quite frankly y’all are usually racist and/or fetishists. I’m not looking to upset your mama, nor am I looking to play slave master in the bedroom.”

Honestly the little speech was usually enough to send weaker men running. You say the r-word to a white man when you’re a black woman and he either calls you the n-word or gets upset and walks away. That had been your experience thus far. Not always, but enough to set precedence. The fact that he bothered to stay at the table further already separates himself from the pack.

“I can understand where you’re coming from.” He nodded, and a crease formed subtly between his eyebrows. “Not that I could ever really understand, just that I understand your hesitancy towards me. And I understand that it’s more complicated for you than it is for me. I really wish it wasn’t that way, but obviously that isn’t exactly something you and I can fix together in this very moment.”

You steadied for yourself for his next words, sure that he was about to leave you with, “have a nice life, I’ve got a spandex fitting in the morning.” There was a feeling in your tummy that felt out of place. You noted absently that it was a flutter of disappointment. And then he kept speaking.

“I don’t want to change your opinions on all white guys. I’d be willing to wager that most of us suck, and you probably should definitely steer clear.”

This caused you to snicker a little bit, a smile coming back to your face. He practically beamed in response, teeth coming together in a megawatt smile.

“However, I’d truly hate to never see that smile again.” He groaned and layed a firm hand against his own chest. “I don’t wanna change your mind about all of us...but maybe I can change your mind about me. I don’t want to feshitize you, I don’t want some weird power play between us. I don’t wanna do anything that would hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I just wanna take a really beautiful woman out if I could, if you’ll have me? Please? And if not, I take no as my answer and I walk away a little wounded, and you’ll still be here, stunning as always.”

Ooof. Boy was good. Real good.

You twisted your lips together and eyed him another time as if you were seeing each other for the very first time. Seemingly good guy. Persistent, not demanding. Willing to have conversations about race? Biceps the size of your head. Damn it was like the devil had crafted him especially for you.

“You know I think my friends have been spying long enough. I should probably meet up with them.” You mumbled.

You reached for the check in front of you adding your tip to your total and squaring out your tab. The way his eyes raked over you did not go unnoticed, unfelt. With the check closed and on the table you reached for one of the cocktail napkins on the table, pen still in hand, and wrote a note of your own. Sliding from your seat, you reached for the prosecco and downed the fizzy beverage before pressing the napkin to his chest with your nail. There was confusion, and perhaps a bit of hurt, in his baby blue eyes. This was gonna be some real trouble for you.

His palm came to rest over yours, trapping your fingers against his chest. There was a warmth there that seemed to leave your fingertips tingling. Definitely trouble.

“You have a nice night Chris.” You grinned.

His hand fell away from yours at the slightest movement on your part. He stood there, seemingly shell shocked, as you reached for your purse and his cocktail napkin. You almost thought he was going to let you get away as you went to step around him, only for his palm to grab gently at your hip.

“Good night y/n.” He whispered and reached to kiss chastly at your cheek.

The warmth of him was more intoxicating up close. He radiated heat like he radiated pheromones. And the smell of him was absolutely ridiculous as well. Was that gucci? Dior maybe?

It was a miracle you made it around the corner.

As to be expected, your awful ass group of friends were all standing by the hostess booth peaking around at you like a couple of dumbasses. They were lucky you loved em. You had an exit to execute though, and for that at least, they were useful.

You resumed your power walk, matched with clicking heels and a teasing pop of your hips, towards them.

“Is he watching?” You asked quietly.

They all nodded in various levels of incredulousness.

“Good. Let’s go.”

And then you walked your ass out that bar only to collapse the first second you cleared the doors. Your girls descended the way only women do, like fucking superheros of their own, and helped you float back to the car.

“Girl if you don’t start spilling A-S-A-P I swear fo’ God!” Raya gasped hands shaking on the steering wheel.

“What happened what happened what happened?!” Jesse screeched.

Your head nestled against the headrest of the car, your breathing having gone unsteady by the little game you’d just played.

“I think I just told him he can take my black ass on a date.” You mumbled in shock.

The tension in the car hit an all time high as everyone went silent...And then they all bursted out laughing as if you’d mentioned the funniest joke in the damn world.

“I KNEW IT BITCH!” Tayna screamed. “OOOOOOO BITCH I KNEW IT!”

“She finna be down with the swirl tonight, y’all!” Raya cackled.  

“In the category of white boys y/n will fuck with, this one has a networth of millions and the highest grossing movie of all time.” Jesse spoke in her best game host voice.

“I’ll take Captain America for six hundred, Alex!” Tayna snickered.

And they all continued to laugh.

“I gotta get some new friends.”

TBC?

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 8

TW

Mentions of SELF HARM. Please be aware before reading.

“Yeah, in the end Jenna Rosencali decided that she didn't want to invite Meghhan Levei to her birthday party. And that's what started the water balloon war at eight in the morning.” Little Jo said as she scrunched her curls trying to get them to dry somewhat uniformly.

The poor eleven year old had walked into the shop soaked down to the bone. Her cousin had rushed her straight into the break room to have her get dry and change clothes. Even running across the street to Dunkin' and get her favorite breakfast sandwich and donut. Then Jo had come out not even a minute after he left and proceeded to tell you what happened, knowing her cousin probably thought she'd been bullied.

But you were different, you didn't see her as a target at all. She likes to think you see her as a little sister, one who enjoys hanging out with you. As much as she likes to think that she understands you probably just see her as the boss' kid that you have to be nice to. You don't immediately jump to her aid when things look a certain way, like just right now. You waited to hear what she had to say rather than assuming someone was mean to her because she was different. Jo knows her family just wants to protect her but sometimes she just wants them to listen to her like you do.

“It's always Megans. Lemme guess name spelt weird.” like right now, you heard her.

“Yea she's got two 'h's in the middle. Meghhan.” she laughs as you roll your eyes. She tics and yanks on her hair as she's scrunching.

“Ouch” stupid tics.

“I've got some shea moisture in my locker in the break room, want me to grab it for you? It'd help with frizz.” another reason she likes you, it took a few days before you stopped checking on her tics, so long as she didn't have scissors.

Even her family haven't mastered that and they've been dealing with her Tourettes for six years.

“Please.”

She follows you to the back for the hair masque. Letting her take what she needed you place the jar back in your locker. Letting her know she's free to it in emergencies like this or rainy days. It's not like your locker was ever locked with just you and Nate being here. And you're pretty sure Nate dipped into this emergency hair saver as well. You didn't have an extreme need for it here it was just a habit you've kept from living in muggy humidity most your life.

“How's your week been?” Jo asked as she finally settled her hair how she liked it, with help from the masque.

She startles at the frustrated noise you make as you both leave the break room.

“Bad?” she questions.

“Sort of...there's...this..it's...”

Shit, you hadn't thought about your response. With all the stress this week you just reacted naturally to the question. Who can blame you, what with your stalker being on your mind all week, minimal amount of sleep, plus the weird interaction you'd had with Brian at the start of it. Then yesterday you topped off your stress with a healthy portion of more frustration driving up to the lodge after work to see if Barclay would like some help with cooking or even shopping for the picnic. Stubborn man sent you off with a hearty laugh after getting you opinion on the vegetarian/vegan main course, eggplant teriyaki or tofu and pineapple chipotle skewers.

“Oooooooh a boy.~” she might not be your actual sister...but you're starting to understand the Cain Instinct.

“Half right I guess.” Jo starts bouncing waiting to hear more, she's probably expecting some juicy relationship drama. Sucks for her that you are probably the world's most boring twenty-four year old, and you're content with that.

“Barclay's just frustrating sometimes.”

“Wait! You and Barcl-”

“Nope.” you interrupt, “I asked him if he needed help with any cooking for the picnic and he brushed me off.” You know he didn't mean anything by it and from what everyone said he could more than handle cooking for the amount of people just fine on his own. You'd just thought it'd be a nice gesture to offer, though you did hope he'd accept. He'd been pretty quick to turn you down, had you been any one else you may have even been insulted by the speed of the rejection.

“That's what's bothering you?” Jo's face held a very confused expression on it. It was understandable since not a lot actually bothered you, especially something as small as this. However, it's not like you could tell an eleven year old 'Yea I'm kinda being stalked right now and this week has me looking at every shadow and movement differently but fortunately or...unfortunately no one seems to notice and just brush it off as my hallucinations.'

Yup, totally not the thing you confide to an eleven year old about. Especially now that you have your plan all figured out. You've planned to let the stalker continue stalking you, picking up clues where ever they may leave them. They're bound to slip up at least once after a month of following you through your routines. Should be able to find evidence to have Big Jo help you in no time.

“Well no...I've just had a lot on my mind...”

“We can talk about it.” kid's got a kind heart, but this isn't her problem and you won't put it on her.

“Nah, it's fine.”

There's a pause as silence settles over the shop front. Jeez how long does it take to get an order from Dunkin'? Jo is staring at you as if she can see every part of your being. Breaking open your soul so all your secrets are laid out on display for her. You really don't like it, it feels like being under the microscope and it's making your skin get that familiar itch under it.

“Stop staring.” thankfully she does as you ask.

“...you said it's fine...are you going to be ok though?” Damn Montessori schools, actually allowing children to pick up on emotions and meanings behind linguistics.

You have to pause when you go to respond with the polite 'Yea I'll be good'...because you hadn't given it any real thought. You've made up this best case scenario plan. A plan that requires time and a lot of it. But you never gave thought to the fact that you might not have much time at all. What if the situation was more dire than you thought...what if this wasn't simply a stalker but a serial killer and you happen to fit his MO. A cult who was looking for the perfect sacrifice for their god. And while those thoughts could also be far fetched so is the scenario that you've built up for this past week.

Even if this was a simple stalking case, who's to say it wouldn't escalate? You have an old steel baseball bat in the hall closet and you could use it in case things got dicey. But that would require it being on your person a lot more than it actually is. Maybe you could make it look like you took up going to batting cages...are there even any batting cages in Kepler?

'Fucking focus...stop the rambling. Am I going to be ok?' you think to yourself despite the roaring chaos of your mind. Even with all the possibilities being thrown around you don't have an answer. Maybe that's really the answer after all if you can't get even one 'yes' from any of the possibilities...maybe you wouldn't be ok after all. Maybe you weren't ok.

“I don't want to talk anymore.” It's said so plainly, in such a dull monotone that it throws Jo off.

Jo's not quite used to this but she understands from the two times she's seen it that sometimes you just shut down under pressure like this. This topic, whatever it is, must really bother you. She wishes there was something she could do to make you feel better, but you can be really volatile in this state. Easily going from shutdown mode to meltdown at the simplest action.

With a jolt joined by a 'yip-yup' she remembers something that might put you in a better mood. And if it doesn't she still needs to give it to you so you have it. Rushing off to the back as fast as her legs will take her, having the agility only years of dance can provide.

Nate comes back into the shop as she disappears to the back.

“Did you know the Dunkin' across the street does parties?” What? To the man's credit he had no reaction to your blank stare and lack of response. He clocked the eye contact aversion right away.

You've gone into shutdown mode. Sometimes you just go quiet and that's fine, you're like a robot in this state and if he sets you up with a task that should take all day you have it finished in a few hours.

Once when he asked you just said you needed to not talk at time and that the tasks were good ways to process thoughts. Nate was reasonably creeped out by this but you aren't hurting anyone so c'est la vie.

“Nate?” Jo's calls out from down the hall.

“Yea, I'm back. Brought food.” he set the bag on the counter and handed you the shitty hash rounds you like for some reason.

'It's only cuz they're bad, if they were good they wouldn't be worth eating.' you think as you pop one into your mouth.

Jo comes twirling back into the room. In a broad sweep of motion kicks her foot off the floor to do one final dramatic twirl that ends in a bow with the same leg pointed toward the ceiling. All to present to you and Nate two tickets. Tickets to what?

“Another dance rehearsal?”

“Nope actual thing this time.” she supplies passing you each a ticket.

It's such a formal looking ticket for a recital that only goes up to age twelve max. Most dancers will still be in elementary school. But they want you to treat this like the Russian Ballet. Oh it even says it's a black tie event, completely different from the rehearsals you've been too.

You aren't sure if you have anything black tie status. You'll have to make a trip further out of your normal bounds and go thrifting for an outfit. Luckily it won't be happening for another month, that gives you plenty of time to try finding something in your size that you also like. It also gets you out of Kepler and away from your stalker for a few hours. Hopefully. But there's a chance your stalker will follow you on your outings away from Kepler so you'd need to keep an eye out for familiar faces on the trip.

“YN...will you come?” Jo's looking up at you with her big puppy eyes. Unfair, even if you wanted to decline she pulled puppy eyes. What heartless monster would refuse puppy eyes.

You give a slow nod along with a smile that doesn't reach your cheeks let alone your eyes. And while Jo's a little disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm she's still excited for you to come to her recital. Nate nudges her into her personal reading nook making up a lie that you hadn't finished your task sheet today so he'd watch over her while you finished working. You'd only had vacuuming and organizing the shelves that got mussed up the previous day, needless to say you were done nearly as soon as you started. When he came back to you he had a whole stack of papers for books that would need to be input into the system. You got to spend the rest of the day on the dinosaur computer in the backroom.

The quiet was nice.

After you'd gotten off work you still weren't out of your funk. Frustrated with the idea of going home and not actually being alone with a stalker prowling around. You decided to go to the one place that can calm even your worst of moods. The stream.

There's a reason why you've never been able to do longer than a thirty minute hike through the Monongahela and that's the stream. Every time you've said you'd go further into the forest you're always drawn back into that spot along the bank right under the red spruce. It has the best smell of all the trees, you think.

Just thinking about it has you having a better outlook on the day. You hardly spare the RV a glance as you go along your usual route.

You've said it once you'll say it again for emphasis. You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. Like that cool rock right there. Picking it up to inspect it closer you note the color is a deep dark brown that it almost looks black even obsidian, it reminds you of something but you can't quite place it. It's very smooth and oddly enough fits perfectly in your hand given it's larger size.

You think you'll keep it, this is a good rock. Idly rubbing the smooth surface of the stone as you trek through your trail, you can feel the tension start to ease off of you. You found a very nice worry stone, it works amazingly well. Hopefully no one lost it and it is just a naturally occurring stone that you happened on by chance. As much as you like it you'd hate to think of the chance of someone loosing something they need.

All thoughts cease once you hear the babble of the stream. As if on auto pilot you move with a fluidity through the brush and low hanging tree branches to your spot. Right under the spruce. Just as you did the last week and every other trip before you remove your shoes and socks placing them further behind you, so you can dip your feet into the cool stream. It's very refreshing on this hot summer's day.

Lying down with your feet still in the stream you close your eyes and just loose yourself to nature. All your cares and worries getting washed away by the steady moving stream. It's strange to be here without the buzzing in the back of your head. Oh great speak of the devil and he shall appear. It's fine, after all you're used to this, it's easy to ignore.

However, what isn't easy to ignore is the snapping of a branch, from in front of you just across the stream, how cliche. Cliches aside the sound rockets you back into a sitting position as you look for the source. And you find it...find him standing just on the other side of the stream emerging from the brush on that side. Toby. And he's mask less, not a weird choice considering he probably wouldn't have run into anyone had you not decided to come out for a hike.

Great you can feel your chances at friendship slipping through your grasp just like the water slips down the bend. He's gonna think you're weird when you don't respond to him verbally. Or worse he'll think you were rude for not wanting to talk to him and then never want to talk to you again in retaliation. Whatever relaxation had once been over you quickly dissipates and you are left anxious and with a tickle at the base of your skull.

Toby hasn't said anything yet. Not even a raised hand in a half wave. You also don't see Connor anywhere. Is Toby okay right now? Fuck even with that kind of thought you can't manage to move your lips let alone actually utter a sound, even ones that wouldn't ever be counted as words by anyone who was currently living. So you take the first move, literally.

Raising the hand without the stone in a mock form of a greeting. Toby doesn't seem to quite register it or you but he copies the movement. Oh he must be dissociating either that or in a catatonic state similar to the one you'd been in last weekend. That's probably how he knew he just needed to sit you down and keep and eye on you. You could do that for him...if that's what he needed.

You wave your hand beckoning Toby to come over to your side of the stream. Toby tilts his head to the side before his arms jolt up, going across his body. You assume it was a tic because he didn't keep the pose long. Tilting your head back at him, as if to say 'You coming over?', you pat the spot next to you.

Seems he registered that because he backed up a few steps before taking a running leap to cross the stream. He lands with more grace than you'd given the lanky guy credit for, normally someone with such long limbs would be a lot more clumsy. Not to mention that was a pretty wide jump, and Toby only has a few inches on you, you could probably barely cover the width of the stream. But he not only cleared it but he gave himself a good six inches of coverage away from the edge. You just hope he didn't roll or over exert anything by doing that. With his insensitivity to pain he wouldn't feel it and if he wasn't here mentally right now it's likely he wouldn't even remember he made a jump like that in the first place.

When he just stands in place staring at you, you get a bit uneasy. What's up with everyone staring at you today? You get really uncomfortable with people's stares normally, and now you're overstimulated and stressed it's not a great combination. But you can rationalize Toby is having a moment of his own. And since he helped you the best that he could you'll do the same for him, pushing aside your own issues for the moment. After all what are friends for.

He's standing within arms reach. You don't even have to get up as you gently grab his hand and give a few light tugs. Trying your best to get across that he should sit down with you. This would probably be a lot easier if you could speak right now. Did he speak to you when you were like this?

Toby thankfully gets the message and drops into a criss-cross position next to you. You start to retract your hand, now that the need for contact is over, when Toby's rough hand closes around it suddenly. Looking to Toby he's just staring straight ahead and not at you. His eyes aren't frantic or moving in any way, like yours sometimes do when you're following a hallucination. Physical closeness must help him through this kind of thing.

As gross as the feeling normally would be for you it isn't so bad right now. It seems Toby's CIPA also affects his body's temperature and his ability to sweat. Where there's usually the feeling of burning and clammy moisture coming off of another person, Toby is just tepid and dry. If anything it feels as if you're being held by a leather baseball glove.

Toby's hands are very rough, especially his palms, maybe you should let him burrow some of the goat milk lotion Dia gave you a few weeks ago. It smells pretty good and it only takes a little bit to soften your skin back up. But as you look closer at his hands you can see the spots roughest are around his nail beds. Someone has a biting problem, maybe he needs an oral stim toy. That would keep his flesh out of his mouth, and stop him from injuring himself...hopefully. There's still a chance he'd bite through his tongue without realizing, honestly you're a little surprised that hasn't happened yet.

You had completely forgotten about the stone in your hand until you went to grab at Toby's hand that still held yours in a firm grip. Seeing the dark brown rock again you remembered what it reminded you of, Toby's eyes. They were the same shade as the rock, that's funny...anecdotally at least. This rock helped you maybe it would help calm him down some. Worth a shot.

Since your hand closest to him is preoccupied you have to reach across his body to nudge the rock to his hand. He spares it a single glance before covering it with his other hand. Mission partially accomplished you guess. Now you're just sitting here, with Toby catatonic, by the edge of the water bank. Pulling your feet from the stream you mirror Toby's pose, you'll likely be here a while.

While normally you'd love to just loose your self to the sounds surrounding the stream, in the presence of another person you're too jittery to enjoy that. If only you had something to fidget with... You wonder what Toby's reaction would be if you just... Toby turns his head to watch you when he feels a gentle smaller hand on his own. Dark eyes watching intensely as you pull his hand into your lap. Turning it over so his palm is facing up, before you start tracing patterns into his palm lines and flexing his fingers individually. He watches for a moment before turning back to his original point.

Playing with his hand you noticed a few more things about Toby. From his chipped black nail polish, a look you personally think not enough guys go for even though it makes them look more attractive and approachable. To the single string paracord medical bracelet he's wearing, metal tag simply stating 'TOURETTE'S SYNDROME'. And a little further down you see scars, a few are crescent shapes easily identified as Toby's own nails. But most are straight lines, even a few jagged cuts, that run up and along his forearm.

'Tobais...what on Earth happened to you?' just as the thought rings through your mind you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder.

Toby is resting on your shoulder with his eyes close. You can tell he's just resting them by the lack of movement behind the eyelids.  With his head being on your shoulder you can smell him, not in a creepy way but he's just so close that his scent waifs your way. He smells like fresh dirt...it isn't a bad smell. It reminds you of gardening but on an overcast day. It hadn't rained today so how does he smell like it?

Moving your attention back to his hands, and away from how nice Toby smells, you catch sight of the scars again and bite your lip. Not wanting to dwell on the scars and their implications any longer. You curl and uncurl his fingers and start a rhythmic motion of curling them individually.

'You poor sweet boy.' is the only thought you can focus on. Even though the scars may be old and those wounds long healed. Toby at one point made them and it's very apparent that he is still not in the best way mentally. Once the two of you are friends, you'll do your best to be there for him. Like you are right now...you really hope it helps.

Toby didn't make even the slightest movement until the sky had begun to bleed its deep oranges across the horizon. He pulls his hand out of your grasp. And when you try to retrieve it to keep up you activity he softly pushes your hands back to you. Guess he's done for now.

With as late as it is, you'd like to go home. And Toby seems more aware of the things going on. But it isn't until you hear a call for him behind you two and he reacts looking in the direction of the call, that you decide he's safe enough for you to leave here.

Without much hesitancy you push off of the ground and stand. Toby isn't looking at you. Taking that as a cue you head back towards the entrance of the forest. Before you leave the clearing however, you look back to Toby and notice a dark colored stone resting nicely in his palm as he idly brushes a finger across it's surface.

Yea he's going to be fine.

[boltwrites]

I Vote Makeovers!

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (feminine) Rating: K Tags: Makeovers, Very Tender Makeup Application

fakelavish requested:  hello again! 🥰 i know you’ve got a long list but i’ve another SFW request for a female reader when you can manage! ik Bolin would be open to a makeover! the reader would be straddling him applying his makeup like in that ✨one meme✨ and he’d be really confused by all the different products and would probably be scared of the mascara wand poking out his eye 🥺 prob’s wouldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror feeling all empowered 😌 we love a man who’s comfortable w/ his masculinity ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: as a he/him that does makeup... you go, Bo, you go. also this took fucking forever and i struggled with it a LOT but i finally finished it and i don’t think it’s half bad! title is inspired by that one line Bolin says in “The Aftermath” when Korra and Asami are talking about bonding... you know that boy wanted to get in on the makeover action.

You leaned close to the mirror, holding the pencil steady as you meticulously filled in your eyebrows. You were just going to the store with Bolin, but you still liked to wear makeup. It was like a little piece of art you could wear every day, and you loved collecting new products and trying them out.

As you finished applying your mascara, you heard a knock on your door. That was probably him!

“Come in!” You yelled, and you heard the door open, the creak distinctive to your ears at this point. “I’m in the bedroom,” you called, in a softer voice, now that you knew he could hear you.

Bolin made his way to your bedroom, and when he peeked in, you could see his shocked expression reflected in the mirror. You weren’t surprised – there were a lot of different products currently played over your vanity at the moment. He probably thought you were being a bit excessive, since you two were just running errands.

“Oh, hi Bolin! Don’t worry, I’m almost done,” you promised him, capping your eyebrow pencil and grabbing a nude lipstick.

“Oh, it’s OK, I don’t mind,” Bolin assured you, taking a few steps into your room, his eyes never leaving your face as you applied your lipstick. You smiled at him, turning and lowering the product from your lips.

“What?” you chuckled, and Bolin blushed, scratching the back of his head. He had been staring at you pretty intently, and you thought it was so cute when he blushed.

“Nothing! I mean, not nothing – I’ve never seen you put on your makeup before. I – it sounds kinda stupid, but I never really thought about how you do everything… I thought it was just like, maybe some kind of big puff, and then lipstick,” he shrugged, gesturing to the collection of products scattered around you. You smiled at him, picking up your setting spray to finish your look.

“No, it’s a little bit more complicated than that,” you giggled, spritzing your face. Bolin watched you curiously, leaning against one of your bedposts as you fanned your face.

“What was that?” he asked. You smiled, setting the spray down.

“It’s setting spray,” you replied, not wanting to bore him with the details. You were used to people only asking about your makeup as a formality, to be polite. Your friends weren’t interested in the slightest, besides Asami, who only knew the basics and didn’t stray far outside her signature dark lip. Your previous boyfriends had ranged from complete apathy to downright dismissive of your hobby, so you didn’t want to bore Bolin with the details.

But he pressed.

“What’s it for?” he asked, drawing nearer, his eyes raking over the products scattered across the vanity. You watched him in the mirror, as he actually looked at your products with interest, his eyebrows scrunched quizzically as he tilted his head to the side, rubbing his chin with a thumb. Usually, you would just move on, to the next topic, not wanting to ramble, but Bolin actually looked interested.

“It helps your makeup stay on, here-“ you passed the bottle to him, and he took it, examining it closely. You grinned, thinking that he looked to cute. “It can also help it blend together. Sometimes when you put on your blush on top of your foundation, it won’t look quite right, and-“

“What are those?” he asked, then backtracked. “Well, I know blush, it’s the – the blushy one! For your cheeks!” he pinched his own cheek in demonstration, gesturing with the other that still held the setting spray, and you giggled at his exaggerated movements. “But what’s foundation?”

“It’s this one,” you handed him the container, and he examined it curiously. “It’s the foundation of your face, so it’s used to even out your skin tone. It also helps other products stick better to your face.”

“Oooh,” Bolin nodded, understanding. You leaned back in your chair, watching him as he looked over your products with enthusiasm you hadn’t really expected from him.

“I could do your makeup sometime, if you like,” you offered with a chuckle, thinking that your comment would be taken as a joke. You would like to do Bolin’s makeup – he had such long, pretty lashes, and you knew that with the right products your could bring out all his best features – his strong jawline, his cute button nose, his wide green eyes. But you also knew that the last time you put makeup on a man, he had immediately washed it off, as if it had been a chore to have you put it on him in the first place. That was back when you were training to be a makeup artist – you had since moved past that profession, partly because of that experience.

But Bolin, instead of laughing, looked at you with wide eyes, his reaction sincere. He looked… excited? Hopeful? But then he caught your eyes and blushed, looking down, setting the products back on your vanity.

“No, you don’t have to,” he chuckled, but it was awkward, and then your own eyes lit up. Would he let you? Did he want to?

“No, I want to! You would look so good, with some contour, and mascara-“ you were almost completely turned around in your chair, looking like an eager kid in a candy store as you watched Bolin. He blinked at you, shocked.

“Really? You – you wouldn’t think it was weird or anything?”

You shook your head, vigorously. “No – not at all! I mean, I’m surprised you don’t know more about it, actually. I would think that back when you were a mover star, that you would have worn some.”

“Really?” he asked, taken aback by the assumption. You nodded, getting up from your chair.

“Yeah! I mean, I know you were filming back when movers were brand new, but when I was thinking about working as a makeup artist-“

“You were going to be a makeup artist?” Bolin asked, his eyes wide, almost glittering as he stared at you in awe. You blushed, flustered that he would consider that something worthy of the awe it seemed to inspire in him.

“Well, yes, I considered it a while ago. A lot of the other artists I talked to worked mostly with mover stars – and all of them wear makeup on set. Of course, mover makeup is a lot different than what you would wear for a night out…”

“Then really, it’s weird that I’ve never done my makeup!” Bolin connected the dots. Or, he attempted to. You grinned at him.

“It’s weird that you’ve never had your makeup done. Actors don’t do their own makeup. They have people like me do it for them. Or, I would have…” you trailed off, looking down.

“Well, it makes perfect sense, right? I’m an ex-mover star, and you’re a not-quite-professional makeup artist, so it works out!”

You snorted, shaking your head as you took a step towards him, leaning up for a quick peck on his lips.

“Of course it does,” you agreed, because he was very sweet, and you really did want to do his makeup for him. “But first, before we do that – errands!”

“Oh, right!” Bolin stood up straight, as if he had only just remembered that he had come over to your apartment for a reason. You grinned wide as you both gathered your things and headed out for your errands.

You didn’t have too much to pick up – just some thing for dinner. You and Bolin were having a nice night in at your place. He was going to teach you how to cook some of his favorite food, and as you shopped, he remarked that since he was teaching you how to cook, it only made sense that you should teach him how to do his makeup. You had laughed, but you did think he was right, in a way. It did make the exchange more equal.

So, you gathered your food, and cooked your dinner. It was wonderful – and afterwards, you two sat around the fireplace in your apartment, sipping on an additional glass of wine each as you just enjoyed each other’s company. The food had been amazing, and the wine was surprisingly sweet. As you sipped yours, Bolin arm wrapped his arm around you as you both watched the flames dance.

“You know,” Bolin remarked, his cheeks already a little pink from the wine, even though he hadn’t had that much of it. “We should do my makeup tonight.”

“I was planning on it,” you giggled, snuggling in. “But now I’m too comfortable. It’s nice and warm by the fire, and it’s always so cold in my room this time of year.”

“Aw,” Bolin pouted, whining at you. “But what if we just did it out here!”

“Hm,” you considered it for a moment, setting your glass down. “That could actually work. You’ll have to promise to stay still for me, though.”

“I promise not to move an inch! Stock still!” Bolin sat bolt upright, his back straighter than you thought you had ever seen it. You snorted, ruffling his hair with your hand as you stood up.

“Thank you, sweetie,” you smiled, patting his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

You returned in only a few minutes, but your arms were laden with makeup when you did. It spilled out of your arms and onto the coffee table when you returned, and you had to make a frantic grab at a few lipsticks as they threatened to fall off the table and roll under the couch.

“Alright, we’ve got everything,” you said, reaching for the moisturizer first. Bolin looked so excited, his eyes bright as he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“Turn so you’re facing me – yeah, that’s perfect,” You mumbled. You brushed your hand through his hair, trying to press his curls into place, but one stubborn piece of hair kept popping out, onto his forehead. You frowned, biting your lip.

“Actually, wait right here,” you added, zipping into the other room for a headband. You used it to push Bolin’s hair back, and it effectively held the curl in place. You smirked in triumph – and also, because Bolin looked absolutely adorable with a headband.

“Now, you gotta tell me what you’re doing when you’re putting all this stuff on me!” Bolin demanded, pouting a little at you. “I don’t want to sound stupid if I ever get my makeup done again and I don’t even know what’s going on!”

You shook your head, squeezing some moisturizer out of the bottle and rubbing it against his cheeks, working it over the rest of his face. “Of course. This is moisturizer, by the way,” you added, your voice low as you worked.

“And what does it do?” Bolin asked as you pressed it into his forehead. This was intimate in a way you hadn’t realized it would be. Unlike when you had worked on clients, Bolin’s knees were almost knocking into you, and you could use your hands to press the moisturizer into his skin, warm and soft under your fingers. Like this, you could spend as much time as you wanted looking at his face – his pretty green eyes, his button nose, his bushy eyebrows, his full lips – you wondered what they would look like with lip gloss on them.

“Uh,” you stuttered, distracted. “It puts moisture back into your skin. It’ll help the foundation go on smoother.”

“Oh, cool,” Bolin mumbled, his knees knocking into yours. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, you had to admit, you twisted so far to the side.

“Next is foundation,” you told him, as you placed a small dollop on the back of your hand. You had broken out some samples in different colors to match his skin tone. “I have to find the one that matches your skin tone the best so that it looks seamless and it blends in well.”

You swatched a few different shades against his cheek, cradling his jaw with your other hand to keep him from moving. Even though he had promised to stay still, you always felt like this made your work better, when you could hold his head in place as you worked. And the fact that you could feel his pulse under your fingers, brushing against the soft hairs at the base of his neck, just made it better.

“I think this one is the best,” you mumbled, brushing the other samples away with a towel. You gathered your foundation brush and dipped it into more of the same color, brushing it over Bolin’s face gently – but Bolin kept flinching, trying not to laugh.

“Y/n – it – why does it tickle?” he tried, between giggles, to stop moving against your hand. You frowned, trying to hold him still and failing.

“I don’t think it tickles!” you countered, pouting at him. Bolin shrugged sadly.

“But you’re doing it to yourself! Everybody knows you can’t tickle yourself!”

You bit your lip. You couldn’t work like this – not with Bolin giggling and twitching while you were trying to work – and not with your knees constantly knocking together, which was pretty annoying on its own.

“Alright, we’re gonna try something different,” you declared. Bolin stared at you, his face only half covered in foundation. “Lay down on the sofa, and I’ll climb on top of you.”

“I have a feeling they don’t do that when they’re applying your makeup on a mover set,” Bolin commented, just joking as you stood up so he could move. He was right – it was unconventional, for sure, but it wouldn’t matter how professional you were. You were only doing your boyfriend’s makeup for fun.

Once he laid down, you threw a leg over him, and his eyes went wide. You grinned as you sat on his lap.

“Ah, much better,” you sighed, making a show of how nice it was to sit on top of him, leaning down to pat more foundation onto his skin. It really was easier to control his head this way – there was no way for him to rear back, and he was so shocked that he hardly flinched at all while you patted on the rest of his foundation.

“Next is concealer,” you said, leaning over him to apply it. His body was warm and firm under you, and you could feel his breath as you applied the cream under his eyes. “It had a bunch of uses – for more prevalent skin imperfections, it can be blended into foundation to give you an even canvas. Like if you have a pimple, for instance, you use concealer to cover it,” you taught him, applying it under his eyes. “But for you, I’m just using it to conceal the dark circles under your eyes, and brighten them up a little. It helps give depth to the face.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Bolin breathed, and you could tell that instead of paying attention to your words, that he was transfixed by how close you were to him, how easy it would be for him to kiss you.

You applied the rest of his makeup – his blush, contour, and highlight, letting him know exactly how to make his face even more chiseled and lovely. After you were done, you leaned back.

“Now, Bo.”

“Hmm?” he asked. He blinked up at you, as his eyes had been closed as you powdered his face. He was so content there, you thought he might fall asleep.

“What kind of a look do you want? I can go more natural, and just do your eyebrows,” you offered, although you doubted that your eyebrow pomade would add much to your boyfriend’s already thick brows. “Or, we could go all out, and I could put on eyeshadow and mascara – “

“I wanna go all out,” Bolin replied, a little more alert now as he smiled up at you. “I wanna see what you come up with.”

You blushed, smiling at his encouragement. It made your heart flip, how much he seemed to enjoy this. Maybe you two could do this more often, and maybe if Bolin wanted, one day he could do your makeup too.

“Alright. I’ll do your eyebrows, and then we’ll move on to the fun stuff,” you giggled, and he returned your enthusiasm with a chuckle.

You smoothed his brows with some pomade, but didn’t move in with any plucking or trimming tools for him. Although a lot of your former colleagues would have scoffed at how bushy, and somewhat unruly Bolin’s brows were, you thought they were very handsome, and with a bit of tinted pomade, you were able to control them a little more.  

Then, you moved on to eyeshadow. You pressed even closer to Bolin for this part.

“Now, I’m going to do some eyeshadow on you. Traditionally, eyeshadow was used to make your eyes look more deep set, but eyeshadow can also be used to enhance your natural eye color. Now, close your eyes for me.”

Bolin did, and you pressed the pigment onto his lids, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“For example, you have green eyes. And the complimentary color to green is red. So, if I use red-toned eyeshadows on you, it’ll make your eye color look even more vibrant,” you spoke softly as you worked.

“That’s so cool,” Bolin mumbled, careful to keep his eyes closed. “It’s like you’re painting or something.”

“I think it’s a form of art, yeah,” you replied, blending the shadow up further, then picking a highlight color for his brow bone. You had chosen a palette of reds and browns for his eye look – something that would make his eye color pop, but would also add some depth.

“And that makes me your canvas,” Bolin replied, smiling a little. You couldn’t help yourself, and you leaned down to kiss him soft and gentle, cradling his jaw in your hand.

“The most handsome canvas I’ve ever seen,” you replied with a giggle, and Bolin opened his eyes to grin at you. He looked so stunning already, he would be drop dead gorgeous by the time you were done with him.

Mascara was… difficult. You had to cradle his head very gentle as you told him to blink, wiggling the wand up as he did so. Surprisingly, he took it like a champ, unlike many of the other individuals you had practiced on over the years. You applied a nude lip to him, and a healthy coat of gloss, and then, with a spritz of setting spray, he was done.

“You’re all set,” you said, not wanting to move from your spot on top of him. He was warm, and solid under you, and you just wanted to cuddle close to him – but also, you didn’t want to mess up his makeup.

Because now, as you looked at him, sitting up straight on his lap? He was beautiful. The mascara made his already long eyelashes pop even more than before, and the red eyeshadow practically made his eyes glow. His cheekbones and jawline were accentuated, and you had contoured his nose just right. The best part were his lips though – the gloss made them look slick, and somehow even fuller than usual.

“How do I look?” he asked, with a little shy smile. He sat up and flexed, as if that would do something to his makeup look. You chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You look… you look stunning,” you admitted. “Do you want to see?”

“Do I want to see – of course I want to see! My wonderful girlfriend spent too much time on it for me to not look!”

His praise made you blush, but you offered him the hand mirror you had brought out with you, leaning over the top of it so you could see his reaction.

As soon as he caught sight of himself, Bolin’s jaw dropped. He turned to the right, then the left, gasping at the look.

“That-that’s me?”

“That’s you,” you replied, with a broad smile. He looked at you in wonder.

“I look so different!”

“Do you like it?” you asked, a twinge of guilt tugging at you. What if he didn’t like it – what if he thought he looked dumb?

Instead, Bolin looked at you as if you had asked him the most obvious question in the world.

“I love it! No wonder you do this every day – I look so cool! My eyes are like… whoa!” He gestured wildly, almost knocking you off of his lap, and you laughed loud and happy, pressing yourself to the back of the sofa to keep upright and on top of him. You smiled so wide, so in love with him.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, and you meant it. You leaned down, and even though you knew it would mess up his lip gloss, you kissed him soft and gentle, cradling his jaw in your hands. He moaned against you, and when you pulled back, the flutter of his lashes made your breathe catch in your throat.

He really was beautiful – so pretty it made your heart ache. Maybe you would have to do his makeup more often – if only just so you could look at him all night.

-----------

TAGLIST

@karichan-13 @fakelavish @offlineloveline @tenyacakebby @bombardia @burrshottfirstt @appa-gaangnam-style @shell-bells-ringding @sweetbabybolin

@williebyers @callmecopper @unionjackrebel @dragonlover-xoxo

[flirting-with-psychology]

🌸✨WILDFLOWER-APOLLO’S 300 FOLLOWERS SPECIAL✨🌸

LETS GET PERSONAL!

1. what’s your full name? 

No

2. when’s your birthday? 

November 26

3. what does your URL mean? 

I like psychology and I like thinking about crushes

4. who’s your celebrity crush? T

om Hiddleston

5. are you single or taken? 

Taken

6. rant. let it all out babe. 

Fuck jobs fuck capitalism 

7. are you named after anyone? 

My grandmother

8. do you have or want children? if so, how many? 

Possibly, if so then 2

9. do you relate to any fictional characters? 

Yeah, several. The ones that come to mind are Gatsby and Queen Regina

10. do you have any plants? 

Yes

11. what are you currently wearing? 

A jumper

12. describe your aesthetic in emojis. 

I’m on my laptop lol, not gonna try to do a survey on my phone

13. do you have any bad habits? 

Oh yes. Procrasting, instant gratification, being late, eating like crap, obsessing over stuff

14. what’s your sexuality? 

Mostly straight

15. what’s the last song you sang? 

Currently singing The Rose Song from HSMTMTS

16. what are your favorite colors? 

Pink, green, blue

17. are you and introvert, ambivert, or extrovert? 

Ambivert

18. describe your current mood in emojis. 

Again, laptop

19. is there anyone you’d do anything for? 

Probably not anything

20. what fascinates you? 

Random stuff, currently chemistry, music, crafts, and space

21. favorite artists? 

Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo

22. what outfit makes you feel confident? 

Fancy dresses

23. favorite flower? 

Idk

24. favorite season? 

Fall

25. favorite tv show/movie? 

TV show: Friends. Movie: Back to the Future

26. what do you like in a person?

Sense of humor, easy to talk to, common interests, attractive

27. least favorite color?

Idk maybe like muddy yellow

28. first crush?

Aidan in kindergarten

29. how long do you usually sleep?

When I don’t set an alarm, till like 1pm

30. what celebrity do people say you look like?

None really. I think I look like Lea Michele but I’m probably not that pretty

31. favorite scent?

Citrus

32. do you have/want any pets? if so, how many?

I don’t have any currently, I have had 4 cats and I want to get another cat

33. what color is your hair naturally? if you could dye it any color, what would it be?

Brown, I want to try a red ombre

34. do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Pretty good

35. do you take a yearly vacation?

No

36. what is your biggest fear?

Spiders

37. what do you wear to bed?

PJs or a nightgown

38. best memory?

Idk

39. best feeling you’ve ever experienced?

Probably when everyone liked my video or jokes, or when a crush likes me back

40. best gift you’ve ever received?

Half of the cost of my car

41. what’s your skincare routine?

Wash it once a day, rinse face twice a day, moisturize 

42. favorite book?

Harry Potter

43. favorite song?

All Too Well by Taylor Swift

44. favorite album?

It changes a lot, currently Sour by Olivia Rodrigo

45. share your playlist or a playlist you love!

Nah

46. dream destination?

I’d like to visit Ireland

47. best subject? favorite subject, least favorite?

Best was probably math, favorites were science and arts, least favorite was english

48. do you prefer baggy, loose, or tight clothes?

Semi-loose but with some form

49. punk or pastel?

Pastel

50. search your name + core on pinterest & make a moodboard!

Nah

51. if you could travel back to any time period, what would it be & why?

Medieval because i think it’s cool

52. do you have any piercings?

Just my ears

53. do you have any tattoos?

No

54. do you have any siblings?

No

55. are your parents together or divorced?

Divorced

56. do you have any stepparents or step-siblings?

No

57. are your parents strict?

My mom was kinda

58. do you have a set bedtime?

No lol

59. what state do you live in?

Colorado

60. what are your sun, moon, & rising signs?

Idk, I just know I’m a sagittarius

61. do you share any traits with your signs?

Idk, they’re pretty generic so that everyone feels like it describes them

62. what’s a song that gets you going?

Depends on my mood

63. sweet or sour?

Sweet

64. soft or hard tacos?

Idk, I don’t eat tacos too much

65. what color are your bedroom walls?

Pink and green

66. the color/design of your bedsheets?

Turquoise

67. favorite thing to drink out of?

A glass

68. socks or bare feet around the house?

Bare feet

69. favorite board game?

Lately Dead of Winter

70. favorite video games?

Among Us, Detroit Become Human

71. do you sleep with the fan on or off?

On

72. do you sing in the shower?

Yes

73. favorite song to belt at the top of your lungs when alone?

Satisfied from Hamilton

74. last thing you cried to?

Being stressed over job hunting

75. have you tried any alcoholic beverage before?

Yes

76. gum or breath mints?

Gum

77. favorite pair of shoes you own?

The pink wedges

78. how many pairs of shoes do you own?

Way too many, probably like 30 at least

79. what is the natural state of your hair?

A little wavy

80. have you had braces? if yes, how long?

Yes, for 4 years

81. makeup or natural?

Makeup

82. are you a competitive person?

I can be 

83. favorite pasta dish?

Pasta with cheese

84. favorite kind of chips?

Ruffles cheddar and sour cream

85. talk about something your passionate about!

Idk if I’m passionate abot anything

86. what are some of your hobbies?

Crafts, DnD, shopping

87. do you drink coffee? if so, how do you like it?

No

88. favorite kind of pizza?

White pizza with pineapple

89. favorite & least favorite labels that have been put on you?

Idk what labels have been put on me

90. are you religious?

No

91. were you raise religious?

Not really

92. what shoe size do you wear?

7.5-8

93. heroes or villains?

Depends on the character

94. favorite vegetable?

Corn

95. least favorite vegetable?

Broccoli probably

96. favorite dessert?

Chocolate

97. do you play any sports?

No

98. can you swim? if so, when did you learn how to?

Yes, when I was little

99. tell a funny story!

Idk

100. what job would you be terrible at?

Doctor or politician

101. what’s your favorite compliment to give?

Compliment their clothing or accessories

102. has your opinion changed on something recently?

I’m evaluating my opinion on how cautious I need to be for covid

103. favorite physical feature about yourself?

Maybe eyes

104. what’s your favorite physical feature about someone else?

I look most at faces

105. what’s something you would rate 10/10?

Galavant

106. heels or flats?

Heels

107. what’s something you had more knowledge about?

Does this mean wish you had? If so then chemistry

108. would you want to be famous?

I’d want to maybe be known by name but not by face

109. what’s something you would get arrested for?

Pirating TV shows

110. are you a planner or spontaneous person?

A mix

111. what do you hope never changes?

Being friends with my best friends

112. what are your pronouns?

She/her

113. are you a feminist?

For the most part

114. what’s your hogwarts house?

Hufflepuff

115. myers briggs personality type?

Idk, it changes every time

116. who’s your favorite superhero?

Idk maybe Thor

117. favorite villain?

Loki

118. marvel or dc?

Marvel

119. what’s an assumption everyone makes about you that’s not 100% true?

In school people thought I was bookish and didn’t care about parties or boys or that kind of stuff, and now that I’m out of school people think I’m ditzy and probably not that smart

120. favorite bands?

Taylor Swift

121. if you could meet one celebrity, who & why?

Taylor Swift because I like her music and I think we would get along

122. have you watched porn before?

A little

123. favorite disney movie?

Hercules, Aladdin, or Tangled

124. favorite disney princess?

Rapunzel

125. favorite disney prince?

Hercules or Aladdin

126. favorite disney couple?

Rapunzel and Eugene

127. star wars or star trek?

Star Wars

128. top five movies?

Back to the Future, Confessions of a Shopaholic, Timer, The Imitation Game, Tangled

129. top five songs?

All Too Well, In a Crowd of Thousands, Traitor, Me and the Sky, Satisfied

130. top five ships?

Idk. Currently I’m enjoying Gina and EJ from HSMTMTS

131. how gay are you?

Just a little bit, I have occasional crushes on girls but I don’t think I’d want to date a girl

132. scream. just let it out.

Ok

133. do you have a best friend?

Yeah

134. call or text?

text

135. what’s a song that’s been stuck in your head recently?

A lot of Olivia Rodrigo songs

136. is there a song stuck in your head right now?

Just the songs I’m listening to

137. what song(s) will you always love?

A lot of Taylor Swift and showtunes

138. what song is your current mood?

Idk, I just feel like singing

139. recommend an artist!

The girl who plays Ashlyn from HSMTMTS

140. favorite meme song?

They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard

141. a song you hate that everyone loves?

I Like It by Cardi B

142. an artist you refuse to listen to?

Most rappers

143. what’s you “big gay mood” song?

Idk, I Kissed a Girl?

144. favorite lyrics?

“You call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest” from All Too Well

145. what lyrics would you get tattooed on any part of your body?

I wouldn’t

146. shuffle your music & share the result!

Knowing Me, Knowing You by Abba

147. what’s your favorite love song?

In a Crowd of Thousands

148. ultimate song to clean to?

Through the Fire and the Flames by Dragonforce

149. if you could collaborate with one musician, who & why?

Taylor Swift because she gets me

150. what song makes you cry?

Soon You’ll Get Better by Taylor Swift

151. what would be your theme song?

Blank Space

152. what’s a strange phobia you have?

Spiders aren’t that strange, so fear of having accidentally shoplifted

153. did you have an emo phase?

No

154. did you have a greek mythology phase?

Just a little

155. roman or greek mythology?

Greek

156. who’s your godly parent & which god/goddess are you?

Idk

157. how do you handle your anger?

Yell, slam things

158. most attractive singer of the opposite gender?

Ramin Karimloo

159. most attractive singer of the same gender?

Hayden Panettiere

160. what time is it?

12:03am

161. do you have any nicknames?

Star

162. what’s a song that always makes you happy whenever you hear it?

In a Crowd of Thousands

163. which swear word do you use the most!

Fuck

164. five ways to win your heart?

Sense of humor, sing duets, do creative stuff, tease me, pay attention to me

165. five pet peeves?

Mouth sounds, people who think strong female characters can’t have love interests, people giving me unsolicited advice, people wearing their mask under their nose, ghosting

166. do you have trust issues?

Maybe

167. what do you pray about?

I don’t

168. most traumatic experience?

Probably braces

169. what is your dream job?

Idk

170. if you were to be in a musical, which musical, character, & other cast members would you have?

I would love to play Angelica in Hamilton

171. who would play you in a movie about your life?

Lea Michele

172. what’s your favorite thing about your significant other?

Sense of humor

173. favorite fictional character?

Kelsier from Mistborn

174. post a picture of yourself!

Nah

175. what’s your favorite pet name?

I don’t really like generic pet names that much

176. what makes you feel like a horrible person?

Not caring enough about people

177. when did you realize your sexuality?

It was always kind of assumed, but started thinking I might be a little bi a couple years ago

178. when was your first kiss?

When I was 18

179. expose your parents. that’s right. expose them. they deserve it.

My mom is overly cautious and doesn’t know how to pick her battles, my dad is a bit annoying 

180. a phrase that breaks your heart?

Depends on the context

181. when did you come out?

I didn’t

182. how did you come out?

I didn’t

183. who knows you’re out?

I’m straight

184. what’s your lucky number?

Idk

185. how tall are you?

5′6″

186. favorite word?

finnicky

187. are you right handed or left handed?

Right handed

188. do you have an accent?

American

189. first word that comes to mind when you hear ‘heart’?

Beat

190. what’s something you’re proud of?

I made a funny meme in the work group chat the other day

191. do you like where you live?

I like the area, but I don’t like living at my dad’s house

192. when you’re older, do you want to move to a different place?

Yeah

193. do you play any instruments?

Clarinet

194. how long is your hair?

To my boobs

195. what’s the meaning of your name?

Star

196. give an unpopular opinion & let your followers attack you or be salty.

People shouldn’t be cancelled for one shitty opinion, and consuming their work doesn’t mean you support all their beliefs or even like them as a person

197. do you support the lgbtq+ community?

Yes

198. who were you supporting for the 2020 election?

Biden

199. opinion on abortion?

Pro-choice

200. opinion on the death penalty?

Against it

201. opinion on reverse racism?

It’s not the same

202. post your screen time for this week.

Like all damn week lol

203. have you ever talked to a celebrity?

Yes, I met Channing Tatum and got a picture with him

204. what was your first concert?

Demi Lovato

205. how long do you keep your bra on?

All day

206. what’s your bra size?

36D last time I got one

207. give a tour of your room (video).

nah

208. how many photos are in your camera roll?

2990

209. what is the most recent movie/show you downloaded on disney+?

Phil of the Future

210. do you like documentaries?

Occasionally if it’s an interesting subject, but it’s not my favorite genre

211. what’s your favorite musical?

Wicked

212. who’s your favorite non-broadway actor/ actress?

Benjamin Bonenfant

213. who’s your favorite broadway actor/actress?

Ramin Karimloo

214. what’s the song you’re currently listening to?

A Dancer’s Heart

215. drop your most recent picture!

Nah

216. do you have a record player?

No

217. how many records do you have?

None

218. show your records!

None to show

219. do you plan on going to college? if so, where?

I went to my state school

220. talk about someone without telling who.

They used to wear light up sneakers

221. talk about something you hate.

I hate tomatoes and everything made out of them

222. have you been to therapy?

Yes

223. what color are your eyes?

Brown

224. what color are your parents’ eyes?

Hazel for my mom, Hazel-green for my dad

225. what color are you significant other’s eyes?

Hazel

226. how old were you when you had your first kiss?

18

227. do you have a favorite parent?

No, they are good in different ways

228. are your grandparents still alive?

Just my maternal grandma

229. drop 10 songs & let your followers tell you if you have taste or not.

That’s too much work

230. how many followers do you have on twitter & instagram?

Like 3 probably lol

231. are you the eldest, middle, or youngest sibling?

Only child

232. do you have a specific daytime routine?

Work

233. how often do you go to the doctor’s?

When I need to

234. have you had any surgeries?

Yes, for my canine and wisdom teeth, and to get part of my thyroid removed

235. do you wear glasses?

Yes

236. do you prefer unsweetened iced tea or sweetened iced tea?

Sweetened

237. do you have a “type”?

Yes lol. I like a lot of types but my “type” that I fall for a lot is light skin, dark hair, blue eyes, "golden boy”/big personality

238. what’s your significant other’s astrology sign?

I think Sagittarius

239. drop 5 blogs you love.

Idk

240. do you think you’re like any celebrity (personality wise)?

Maybe Taylor Swift in some ways

241. are you a “popular kid”?

No

242. what are your school’s colors?

Black and gold

243. what’s your school’s mascot?

Buffalo

244. how many irl friends do you have?

Idk

245. who was your least favorite teacher?

My camera workshop instructor

246. favorite teacher?

My 7th grade math teacher, my freshman year words and music professor, and my junior year film professor

247. drop a picture of your closet.

Nah

248. how many awards do you have?

Idk, a handful

249. what’s one award you’re proud of?

The dean’s list

250. do you take naps?

I try not to

251. what’s something people always ask you when you first meet?

What’s your name?

252. favorite fast food restaurant?

McDonalds or Wendy’s

253. favorite place to dine in?

Rueben’s

254. mexican or chinese food?

Mexican

255. chinese or japanese food?

Chinese

256. mexican or japanese food?

Mexican

257. olive garden’s breadsticks or texas roadhouse’s yeast rolls?

Breadsticks

258. garlic bread or breadsticks?

Garlic bread

259. plain garlic bread or cheesy garlic bread?

Depends on my mood

260. chicken or steak?

Chicken

261. favorite meal?

Pasta

262. drop a recipe!

I don’t really cook

263. how do you like your steak cooked?

I don’t

264. what would your last meal be?

Pasta

265. are you allergic to anything?

Beeswax I think

266. cats or dogs?

Cats but I like both

267. favorite genre of music?

Showtunes

268. favorite fan fic trope?

Fake dating probably or needing each other for survival

269. favorite tv show genre?

Sci-fi or sitcom

270. what’s your favorite cover/cover a band or artist has or should do?

Disturbed cover of The Sound of Silence

271. how often do you write songs?

I haven’t since I was a kid

272. how many finished songs do you have?

Idk like 5

273. do you write your songs in your notes or in a journal?

I just came up with them

274. how long have you been writing?

I don’t really write

275. how long have you had your account?

Since like 2013 or 14

276. what was your first URL?

shineslikestars17

277. if you could change your name, what would it be?

Star

278. what would you like to name your children?

Shane or Eric for a boy, Phoenix for a girl

279. what are your parents’ & sibling’s names?

I don’t have siblings, I don’t feel like sharing my parents names

280. are your parents democratic or republican?

Democrativ

281. do you have more in common with your mom or dad?

Both in different ways

282. are you & your siblings close?

I don’t have any

283. how close are you and your siblings in age?

I don’t have any

284. are any of your siblings married?

I dont have any

285. do you have any nieces or nephews?

No

286. do your parents have any siblings?

My mom has a sister and my dad has a brother

287. do you have any cousins?

Yes

288. do you look more like your mom or dad?

Both

289. how old were you when you started your period?

13 I think

290. have you lost your virginity?

Yes

291. who took your concert virginity?

My what? 

292. who took your musical virginity?

My what?

293. scream again. everyone needs to.

Ok

294. do you have any collections?

Kinda, lately I’ve been collecting dice

295. what’s on your nightstand?

Water, lotion, advil, phones, chapstick, purell

296. how do you usually style your hair?

Down or ponytail

297. do you play games on your phone?

Sometimes

298. are you hydrated?

Yes

299. have you breathed enough today?

I assume so since I am still conscious

300. are you thankful for anything?

I know I have a lot of privilege

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 62

“What?!” Jared asks, dumbfounded. "You want me to sleep with Drea?"

Gen can't help but laugh at the way her husband's voice raises at least two octaves. His veracity and simplicity endearing as he stares at her in shock.

"No, silly," Gen answers between giggles. "The doctor would inseminate her with a few of my eggs, fertilize them with your sperm, and then hope and pray one-or more, implants into her uterus. It's all very clinical and impersonal. He or she would be our child, just borne by Drea."

"Sounds very...scientific, " he states. "Are you sure? I mean, this is how you want to expand our family?"

"Yea, I am," Gen confirms with a nod. "The boys are growing so fast and I have always dreamed of having a big family. Don't get me wrong, I love Tom and Shep but I miss them being babies. Plus, I’ve kinda always wanted a little girl."

"Okay. Let's do it," Jared exclaims eagerly. 

"Really?" She is amazed by how easily he had been persuaded. 

"Yea!" Jared says, beaming. "I mean, don't get me wrong. It will be weird as hell seeing another woman round with my kid but there is an upside to it," he finishes, pulling his wife's body to his.

"What's that?" Gen asked, cuddling up to him.

"I don’t have to worry about getting rejected when I want to fuck you," Jared says, rolling over until he’s hovering above her. "I won't have to listen to you complain about being fat and undesirable. I love you Genevieve and I always will."

"I love you too, Jared," Gen responds wrapping her arms around his neck. "I always will."

Pulling him down to her, Gen kisses him, promptly turning the contact wanton. 

When they pull apart to catch their breath, she looks up into her husband's eyes, the usual hazel irises shrouded with lust.

"You know, I wouldn't be opposed to a little of that right now," she whispers, batting her lashes and smiling seductively. 

Jared growls as he attacks her, her giggles turning to mewls and whimpers as he completely ravages her body.

Ackles Home

As soon as I put Jackson down, my mind goes back to the earlier conversation in the truck. "Take care of yourself too and look in the third drawer of the chest in the closet.” Jensen had declared. I anxiously wash and shave in the shower, excited to see just what was in that drawer. Once I was sure that everything was nice and smooth I step out and wrap the fluffy terrycloth towel around myself. I quickly check the monitor, the screen showing Jackson asleep in his crib. 

Grabbing the moisturizer, I lather up my body with the peach-scented lotion, making sure to get the bare areas I had created. My mind wanders to the closet, wondering what was in there and when Jensen had put it there. I grab the robe from the hook on the wall and tie it up.

Going to the closet, I flip the light switch on and look excitedly at the chest of drawers. Approaching it, I cautiously reach out and touch the handle of the third drawer and pull it open. 

Inside is a garment box with a pale pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a perfect bow in the middle of the lid. Plucking the package out of its hiding spot, I walked over to the bench that separates the two areas of the closet.

Smiling, I gently pull the bindings off the box and lift the top. I gasped as I saw what was nestled inside.

Meanwhile, across town Jensen is sitting at the bar, listening to Bob prattle on about his business and his ideas to expand to other cities. The bartender sits another beer in front of him and without thought, Jensen picks it up and takes a drink.

By the time Jensen is paying attention to his friend again, Bob has moved on to talking about family. 

"So how are the missus and the baby? Though I guess she isn't much of a baby anymore, huh?" Bob chuckled as he nudges their shoulders together. "SueEllen and I had our first two so close together it was almost like having twins."

Jensen’s heart squeezes at the mention of twins. He and Drea had- or is it have?-twins. Jacob just isn't here anymore. He smiles at the older gentleman. 

"I have a son now," Jensen proudly announces.  "He and JJ are 23 months apart. Jackson has an angel twin, passed, uh ...pretty early into the pregnancy, though."

"Sorry to hear that, man," Bob offers.

Jensen finishes off his beverage and fishes out his wallet, going to pay for his drink. Bob lays a hand on his arm and smiles. "On the house, my friend."

"Thanks." Jensen slides his wallet back into his pocket and gets up. "It was nice catching up but I better get back."

"Tell Dani I said hello."

Jensen cringes through a smile and walks away, heading for the door. Outside, he unlocks his door and gets in. He lays his head on the wheel and closes his eyes. What the hell is he doing? He should've set Bob straight. He and Danneel aren't together. He has a son with another woman. 

Turning the key in the ignition, Jensen pulls out onto the road and drives, no idea where he is going. He knows he needs to head home, Drea is there waiting for him but the fight with Dani is still fresh on his mind. The words, "She probably wouldn’t pay any attention to JJ, anyway. She's got her own kid to maintain" are running through his head. Does Drea pay more attention to Jackson than she does JJ? Is their son more important to his girlfriend than his daughter? Jensen wants to answer both of those with a resounding “No!” but doubt claws its way into his head.  

Pulling into the driveway, Jensen looks up to the window he knows is the bedroom to see the light still on. Thank god! Maybe he can talk this out and prove to himself that Dani is wrong about the way his girlfriend felt about JJ.

Padalecki Home

Gen watches as her husband comes out of the bathroom and approaches the bed. She is completely and thoroughly exhausted. Their love-making had become an event. The way Jared had whispered in her ear describing how much she turned him on to how she felt as he explored every inch of her body, leaving nary an inch untouched, had Gen practically vibrating with need before they even got to the main event.

The second he had slid into her warm, tight channel, Gen had come undone. The stretch of her walls to accommodate his ample length had her throwing her head back in ecstasy. No matter how often they had sex, Jared always seemed to hit new spots that had her seeing stars. 

With each thrust, Jared's dick had continually grazed her g-spot and when he lifted her legs onto his shoulder to push deeper into her, he steadily bumped against it until she screamed through her release. 

Now here she lay, blissfully satiated and fulfilled, waiting for her husband-her lover-to join her back in their bed. 

"Are you sure you're on board with my idea?" she asks as he lay down beside her. "You don't want to think about? Pro and con it?" 

Genevieve Padalecki had learned early on that any and all decisions Jared made were carefully processed and a list of pros and cons of each outcome was put together before the final determination was made.

"Nah, it's a good plan. You want more kids and I want to make you happy. "

Gen couldn't help but scoff as she sits up against the headboard, the sheet falling down and exposing her bare breasts. 

"No," she demands, crossing her arms. "Don't just agree to make me happy. I want you to want this too. I don't want you to, one day down the road, despise me or whatever kid or kids would come of this. I want you to be in this 100%."

"I am, baby," Jared says as he sits up beside his wife. "I want more kids too. Honestly, it broke my heart when you had to have the hysterectomy. I thought our baby-making days were over. I just didn't say anything because I didn't want you to think I thought any less of you. I love you Gen. I don't ever want you to think I don't."

Hearing his confession brings tears to Gen's eyes. To know that he had been as heartbroken as she was with the procedure warms her heart. She wipes the tears from her face and smiles. 

"You big lug! I love you," she says as she straddles his lap. "I want to give you as many kids as you want. But we shouldn't get too far ahead of ourselves. Drea could still say no."

"I know," Jared agrees, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. "Doesn't mean we can't practice," he murmurs as he leans up to kiss her, his right hand moving toward her womanhood. 

The doorbell sounding through the house made him stop and sigh as she climbs off of him. 

"Whoever that is, they better be dying," he says as he pulls a pair of sweats on and heads out to see who's at the door.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @carryonmywaywardcaptain  @darlingpeanut @sunskittlex@sis-tafics  @sea040561 @pretty-fortune @squirrelnotsam  @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44  @internationalmusicteacher @kricketc28@natura1phenomenon @mannls  @nickie-amore @spn-tw-37 @frozenhuntress67 @blacktithe7 @supernaturallymarvellous @thetardishasaquidditchpitch @sirod-30  @heyitscam99 @smoothdogsgirl  @i-just-wanna-run-hell @paintballkid711@closetspngirl @starfirerules @vickiq9761  @rainflowermoon​  @spnbaby-67​@drakelover78​ @jessieray98​ @81mysteriouslyme​ @travelingriversideblues-x​ @akshi8278​ @keymology​ @topthis808​ @lilulo-12​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​ @thevelvetseries​

[queeniewritesce]

Shall We Dance 6/?

Lucy lazily opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the light feeling the room, streaming from the beautiful arch windows near her side of the bed. Her head throbbed a little, she felt sore in places that hadn’t been used in quite some time, and she admonished herself for not taking some ibuprofen before falling asleep last night.

She tried to move but a firm hand gripped her waist, keeping her in place, digits digging the soft skin of her tummy. She turned her head, carefully to not worsen her headache, and regarded the sleeping man by her side; apparently, they were both stomach sleepers, arms under the pillow type of people and she wondered if that was uncomfortable for him, as he was not lacking on that department. Like, at all. She giggled quietly at her teenager mentality, studying the beautiful profile of Chris’s face, fingers itching to get closer, to lose themselves in the soft fur covering his jaw, trace the fullness of the lips that had driven her crazy the night before.

Ghost memories heated her skin as she slid out of the bed, padding softly to the bathroom, her thighs protesting the burn his beard imposed upon them, the sensation not dissimilar to the friction the pole created when learning a new move, but much more pleasant. She washed her face and used his moisturizer, the mirror showing her the purple marks he left on her neck and the top of her breasts, hair in disarray, and a small grin graced her face. She had been loved hard, and she reveled in every minute of it.

Lucy glanced at Chris’ sleeping form, grabbing his folded sweater and her socks and quietly slipping from the room, Dodger following behind her.

“Morning Dodger,” the stairs were cold on her bare feet as she descended. She makes quick work of his sweater, smelling the collar and folding the cuffs. She pulls on the thick socks while scanning the living room, locating her purse on a side table and to find a hair tie, tying a messy bun on top of her head. She grabbed her phone, opening the small bottle of Advil she always kept with her to grab two pills and walked back to the kitchen, where Dodger sat patiently by the door. “Listen, I’m not too keen on the idea of the alarm going off when I open that door, so I’m really sorry, but there won’t be any visits outside till your dad wakes up, alright?”

She could’ve sworn the dog ruffed before a small whine escaped him. Lucy spotted the treat jar on the island and gave the pooch two small ones as a peace offering. Satisfied, she opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the same stool she had occupied yesterday, unlocking her phone. She sends Penny a quick message saying she won’t be back till later because Chris is taking her to one of the museums and snorts when her sister’s reply is a bunch of eggplant emojis. Siobhan is next and she asks about Morris, quickly retelling what happens without naming Chris and promising to call soon. There’s a message from JP enquiring if Garret’s plan was to propose on Christmas’ Day, and she thinks it’s odd, ‘why wouldn’t he ask Garret directly instead of asking me?’, she ponders and decides to call her brother later. Her last new message is from Sunny, inviting Lucy to stop by whenever she has the chance. She replies explaining they’ll arrive early on the 23rd, maybe she could have dinner with the family that night.

Opening Instagram, she clicks the plus sign, it’s a habit to always post something about the latest football game she attends; a picture of everyone she’s with, a few words about the game and when the Patriots were involved, a sarcastic remark about Tom Brady. She scrolls through her photos and it suddenly hits her she can’t share the incredible day she had yesterday. Not only all pictures feature Chris, either smiling to the camera or in the background, but he’s also in every quip and every joke she can think of writing. Sure, her account was private, but when was the last time she weeded out her followers? She sighs and closes the app, adding the task to her mental to-do list.

“I was about to file for my missing sweater, but it looks so much better on you than it does on me.” Chris’s voice is right behind her and she jumps a little, but she smiles and spins the stool around to look at him. “Even when paired with those goddamn awful socks.”

“I have cold feet.” Her eyes follow him around and she licks her lips at the sight of the half-naked man turning on the coffee maker, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and she is almost certain that is the only piece of clothing he’s wearing.

“I kinda noticed that.” He pats Dodger on the head before disarming the alarm and opens the kitchen door, a very happy dog now bouncing on the fresh snow outside. “You might want to have that checked, I believe they’ve frozen some time ago and you just haven’t noticed.” Chris grins at her indignant face and she scowls at him, trying to elaborate a good comeback when he invades her personal space. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

He’s pressed right at her side when he speaks those last words, tilting her head back and kissing her soundly, the hands on her neck keeping her in place, and does she really need to breathe because she just wants to kiss him forever. Her whole body awakens, his touch moving like lightning on her skin. Her palms sprawl over his chest, fingers combing the short hairs covering the muscles and she’s delighted at the small moans coming from him. Sadly yes, they do need air to live and so they part, foreheads touching, fingers caressing and smiles on their faces.

“I believe it’ll be, yes.” She eyes him as he draws on her skin, following the pattern of the cherry tree branches on her arm, reaching the last flower perched near her inner elbow and she tenses. As wonderful as he is, they barely know each other, the scars on her forearm and wrists are part of the demons that plague her dreams, ones that she’s not willing to discuss. She feels better when his fingers skip the scars, going straight to her palms and tangle themselves with her own, bringing her hand up to kiss the knuckles.

“How about some breakfast?” He offers while his mouth skims over her hands. “There’s this great place right around the corner that serves breakfast till 3 p.m., we can walk over there and get my car afterward, go to the Museum?”

“Breakfast food for lunch?” her stomach grumbles at the mention of food. “I was gonna make a joke about it being so very un-Hollywood of you, but as you heard it, parts of me are already on board with the plan. But I do need coffee first.”

“As milady wishes.” He goes back to find two cups in the higher cabinet, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and setting it all on the island in front of her before seating by her side, “How are you feeling today?”

“I woke up with a bit of a headache, a little sore too, but I took some Advil when I came down, I’ll be right as new in a few hours.” She rests her chin on her hands watching as he scoots the chair closer to hers, knees touching as he runs slow circles on the small of her back.

“I’m sorry about the soreness baby, but damn, it was a tight fit, I almost blew my load when I first entered you, you felt so good.”

He says it like he’s commenting on the weather, not of giving her the best sex of her life. Her cheeks felt warm; the man had no filter, did he?

“It’s been a while since I last fooled around with anyone, it’s been mostly me and my hand for the past twenty months.” Apparently, she had no qualms talking about it with him either. Lucy felt at easy with Chris, from the first time they looked at each other she felt like a missing piece of herself finally found its way home. How would she keep going after today? She shook her head to clear her head, she wouldn’t think about that now. “And you're going around with a large concealed weapon in those pants. How do you get past TSA with that?”

He laughs with a deep bass guffaw, slapping his knee.

“Wanna give me a pat down, Officer Seabrook?” a waggle of his eyebrows had her chuckling before he got serious. “But almost two years baby, are New Yorkers that blind? You look smoking hot, do not give me that look, ‘cuz you do. I’d be following you around like a lost puppy for that ass alone.”

“There were plenty of opportunities, it’s just… It never felt right, I guess? I…” she stopped, unsure about giving up too much of her past. What was with this guy and the need to know all her secrets? And what was up with her and wanting to tell them all to him, hoping he wouldn’t run away screaming?

“Then I’m extremely glad it felt right yesterday. Because it felt right to me too, the moment you walked into that room? I was a goner. You had me at hello and all that shit.” He grinned at her over his cup, but she could tell his eyes were studying her and at some point, they would come back to this conversation.

“And all that shit uh? You’re such a romantic. Wait, the fact that you even know that the movie is awesome enough. It’s one of my favorites”

“Figures you’d have the hots for Tom Cruise being angsty as fuck” He laughed and batted away the packet of Splenda she threw at him.

“Oh shush, he’s not angsty, he’s had a revelation and it’s acting upon it. Plus, the ‘show me the money scene’ is already movie history.”

Chris lets Dodger back inside before grabbing the coffee pot, and he sits facing, a sheepish grin on his face while he poured himself a cup.

“So, if you had to choose, wine or coffee?” he asks as he prepares his drink; three sugars, a splash of creamer.

“Coffee, no doubts about it. I love wine but by this point in my life, I have coffee running in my veins instead of blood. There’s no way I could give the liquid gold up.” She pours half a cup, skipping the sugar and filling the other half of the cup with the creamer.

“What the hell,” he eyes her cup suspiciously, “that is not coffee baby, that’s an insult to anyone who drinks coffee.”

“Says the person who puts enough sugar in his cup to rotten teeth.” She scoffs before taking a long drink. “Delicious.”

“Oh my god, you’re one of those girls.” Chris grabs his chest, pretending it hurts. “You order a PSL at Starbucks.” He finishes with a low, horrified voice, whipping an imaginary tear from his eye.

Lucy was glad she wasn’t drinking when he finishes because she laughs so hard, she snorts.

“One hot, venti, two-shot, almond milk, no whip pumpkin spice latte. I’m a basic bitch who loves her PSL, so sue me.” She shrugs and brings her cup to her lips, sipping slowly.

“I bet the barista knows your name and draws a smile on the damn cup too.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled over the brim of the cup, giving a little shrug. “I knew it!”

“There’s a store on the same block of my apartment and it’s on the way to the subway, they’ve been there since I moved to New York, of course they know me by name by now.” Pouring more coffee into her mug, she acknowledges, “This is absolutely delicious though, it’s Hawaiian Kona coffee, right?”

“Color me impressed.” Chris grins, nodding his head. “It’s one of the few things I splurge on, I have the company send a few beans bags every month to wherever I am staying. I refuse to drink the goo they serve at most places when I’m doing press for a movie.”

“You’re a coffee diva.” She states, amused by his confession.

“Some people hate green M&Ms, I hate bad coffee.” He concedes laughing. “I even provide the coffee, it’s not like they have to go and buy it, you know? Just follow the instructions or let my assistant make it and I’m a happy guy.”

“What is that like, having an assistant?” Lucy glances at Chris, untrimmed beard, mussed hair, no shirt, ratty sweats and barefoot. Incredibly good looking, but more of guy-next-door than a movie star, she almost forgot he was more than Garret’s hot best friend.  Their worlds differed so much, she couldn’t imagine having someone on her beck and call, or worst, a publicist. That gave her pause and she pursed her lips in thought while he responded.

“It’s weird at first, someone controlling your schedule, telling you where you need to be and when. But you get used to it so fast, especially since they seem to know exactly what you need and they deliver it, you know? Almost like a superpower, they learn how to read you and anticipate your moods.” Chris pondered and looked away embarrassed when he continued. “It’s… convenient. If you’re not careful you can get lost inside the Hollywood lifestyle, get jaded by the lights and you end up forgetting who you truly are. It almost happened to me once and I swore I wouldn’t let it happen again. It’s one of the reasons Tobias stays in Los Angeles whenever I’m here, I can take care of myself, I can be Chris.”

His words reassured her, but one question lingered. He was famous, he had an image to protect. As Samuel clearly reminded her, most people only saw her as a glamourized, overweight, stripper. She turns to face him, “Do I have to sign an NDA? Would pictures of the two of us together be bad for you?”

“What, Lucy, NO.” he shakes his head startled. “First of all, NDAs are ridiculous, they rarely work, I know that first hand. Maybe if you’re into some hard kink sex and doing it with random people, then okay, an NDA would be ideal, but I don’t ask people who I sleep with to sign them. And no, a picture of us together wouldn’t be bad for my image, it might stir some pots because some people believe they can dictate who I date…” Shaking his head, he grabbed her hand, linking their fingers together. “I know we’re still getting to know each other but one thing you should know is that I rarely give a fuck to what the media or the general public think of me. I keep my people close to my vest, I don’t talk about friends and girlfriends in interviews, but that’s because it isn’t anybody’s business what I do on my personal time. But I won’t shy away from being around someone I care about either. If a picture leaks or if they follow me when I’m with someone, I set my publicist on their cases because they are assholes, but the one thing I won’t do is to acknowledge their presence or react to them. It’s what they want, and I learned to tune them out.”

“I’m sorry doing what you love comes with so much bullshit involved.” Her thumb rubbed circles on his palm, in a soothing manner, her free hand combing his tousled hair. “Just so you know, if you decide a week from now that maybe I should sign one of those ridiculous things, I’d do it.”

“Thank you. The fact that you offered is enough.” Chris leaned into her hand, almost purring from the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp. He closes his eyes, enjoying the moment and Lucy wants to save this forever, a perfect reminder of their time together.

He tastes of coffee when she kisses him, molding her mouth over his, dragging her lips sweetly across his own. She tastes like cream when his tongue touches hers, light touches that entice her, coaxing her lips to follow his when he retreats, seeking more, needing more.

The whiskers on his face tease her skin when he drags a line from her mouth to her neck, nipping hard at the pulse point, sucking the skin to sooth the bite. She gasps at how pleasurable the tiny amount of pain feels, fingers splashed on his hair, pulling him back till she devours his mouth, taking the lead.

His hands are everywhere, cupping her neck to hold her in place, squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts, gripping her thighs, finally circling her waist to bring her closer to him, hiking up legs over his, making the sweater she’s wearing ride up, his eyes popping when he realizes she’s not wearing anything under it.

“Such a naughty girl you are baby.” Chris murmurs against her mouth with a grin.

“I’m full of surprises.” She pulls the string securing the pants and it pools on the V of his abdomen, his cock springing upwards to rest against his belly. “I see I’m not the only one not wearing underwear.” Fingernails rake on the hard muscles of his abdomen while her teeth do the same to his collarbone, biting his neck. A thumb grazes the silky skin of his head and he twitches underneath her palm, his soft moans delighting her.

Her sweater is halfway up her body now, a large hand cupping the globes of her buttocks, while the other is busy massaging a hard nipple. Ripples of hot lava dances over her with every pass of his finger.

“I love how responsive you are, how you look ready to cum just with me playing with your tits.” Chris lowers his head to take a hard peak in his mouth when Lucy hears the low rumble of his stomach, making her raise an eyebrow at him. He ignores it and shushes her with a kiss, slating his mouth over her giggling lips, bringing her back to the moment.

A second, louder rumble follows. There is a pause and their eyes open, green meeting blue, mouths pressed together turning to grins before they are both laughing.

“I guess I’m hungry.” He remarks.

“When was the last time you ate something?” a hand smooths down her sweater when she stands up.

“I had a pretty nice snack last night.” A wiggle of his brows had her punching him on the shoulder as she narrows her eyes at him, still laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re such a man Christopher.”

“Glad you noticed babe.” He embraces her, kissing her shoulder. “Come on, we can shower together and save time.”

..__..__..__..__..

Showering together did not save time, she remarks when Chris closes the door behind him. It’s almost noon when they finally leave his house, all bundled up, gloved hands clasped together. There was no snow right now, but it’s supposed to start back late afternoon, so the plan was to be back home before that.

Lucy wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. Would he drop her off at Garret’s house after their outing (she didn’t dare call it a date) or would they go back to his place together? Sure, she understood the concept of one-night stands; she’d had her fair share of them but spending the day with one of them was never part of the deal, they had never asked, always leaving her house before the sun was up. In the beginning, she didn’t care about them leaving, her walls kept her safe, away from heartbreak. She had given herself away twice before and she had the scars, emotional and physical, to remind her not try it again.

Being single wasn’t something that bothered Lucy like it had bothered Penny or Siobhan and, unlike her sister and her best friend, she had welcomed it, focusing her energy and passion into dancing. She was proud of what she had accomplished in the last twelve years, the dance studio was thriving, she had made a name of herself and was now giving back to the community as much as she could.

Yet she now yearned for more. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that happened but somewhere in the last six months the feeling snuck up on her and was now part of her daily routine, accompanying her from dusk to dawn. She pushed it aside, tried to bury it under her work but, no matter how late she stayed in her studio, how hard she danced, how tired she was, the loneliness that greeted her when she arrived home made her ache.

She wanted what JP had with Marianna. She wanted what she saw between Penny and Garret.

She had no idea how to get it.

Her eyes glanced over at the man walking beside her. Chris was funny, charming, interested in what she had to say and what she did for a living. It didn’t hurt the whole package was contained inside a sinful body, and boy, did he know how to use that body. She shook her head. This was a one-time thing, it’s not like he would want to see her again.

“We’re here,” Chris announced with a muffled voice, concealed beneath the heavy scarf covering his mouth, pointing to the red stone building that occupied the corner of the block they just turned. “The food here is amazing, you can’t go wrong with anything really.”

Lucy looks up before they enter and sees a neon sign with Mike’s City Diner written on it. The place had an old school vibe, a red, black and white theme that reminded her of the diner in Cooperstown, the one she went to almost every day after school for milkshakes and grilled cheese, or for family breakfast during the weekend. She’s about to ask if he comes here often when his name is called by a pretty brunette wearing an apron with the diner’s logo on it.

“Hi Chris,” the woman is all teeth and pink lipstick when she winks at him. Lucy tries to not pay attention to the way the hand, not coffee pot squeezes his biceps in hello.

“Hi, Corinne. Is my table occupied?” he questioned, removing his winter gear.

“It is, but the booth next to it is free, if you seat turned to the back wall, I’m sure no one will bother you. We’re past the rush hour anyway.” She grabs a couple of menus from the counter and leads them to the very back of the restaurant, away from the windows. “I’ll bring some fresh coffee for you.”

Chris helps Lucy out of her coat and mentions for her to get in first. He slides next to her and wraps an arm around her back, pulling her closer.

“I take you’re a regular?” She asked while reading over the menu.

“Yeah, I come almost every day when I’m not at my mom’s house. I’m an okay cook, but breakfast food is my favorite and I rather not screw it up.” He nods, not even looking up at the menu. “Very kind people, delicious food, most patrons are either engrossed on their food or too deep in conversation to notice me, which is a plus.”

“I grew up going to a very similar diner back home. My friends and I would spend whole afternoons at Patty’s, doing homework and playing the arcade games he’d kept in the back room. He was the sweetest guy, always looking out for the town’s kids, running fundraisers for a neighbor in need… And the food was so, so good.” Wistful eyes looked around the place, taking in the decor and the warm way the waiters would talk to the customers.

Corinne approached with a smoking pot of coffee, sashaying her mint skirt as she did. She poured Chris’s coffee and points the pot to Lucy in question. “Want some, sugar?”

“Please.”

“Alright, you guys know what you want?” she placed the pot on their table, whisking out a white pad.

Chris signaled Lucy to go first and she orders cinnamon walnut waffles with a side fruit, saying no to the meat.

“I’ll have the Dynamic Duo with bacon and scrambled eggs. And she wants cream, lots of it.” Chris says with a teasing smile.

“I can drink my coffee black, you know?” Lucy huffs after Corinne leaves them alone.

“Yes, but do you like it?” He gives her a pointed look, a lone eyebrow raised at her.

That was so unfair, who could resist that damn eyebrow?

“No,” she answers with a pout.

He laughs and steals a quick kiss. “So, no meat?”

“No meat. I can’t call myself a vegetarian because I love cheese and eggs and still indulge in some seafood, but it’s been almost ten years since I decided to stop eating red meat, eight since I last ate chicken.”

“Impressive. Hemsworth is thinking about adopting a plant-based regimen on our next bulk up. We’ve been discussing it for a while.” He plays with the empty sugar packets, sighing. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“Chris, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I don’t know the guy, but if he’s your friend I’m sure he’ll understand.” Her hand closes around his, giving it a squeeze. “Quitting anything is hard, my friend Terry has been trying to stop drinking soda since I first met him, sometimes he goes months without a single drop, other times he drinks Coke for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midday snacks.”

“Don’t I know it. I’ve quit smoking maybe a dozen times now. But I pick it back up whenever I’m stressed or if I go clubbing a lot.” He picks her hand up, dropping each finger on the table only to do it again. “I stopped after I broke up with my last girlfriend.”

Lucy pursued her lips. She once had called Penny to see how her sister was doing and throughout the conversation, Penny had been curt with her, until Lucy snapped and decided to end the call. That was when Penny apologized and explained she was mad by proxy because Chris’ girlfriend was being a bitch, divulging personal details about their relationship. Lucy didn’t know the actress was, but she instantly disliked the woman.

“Uh, so maybe a good thing come out of that?” her smile was sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Chris gave her a warm smile. “I was single when I met you.”

“And if you weren’t?” it was a serious question disguised within a light smile.

“Here’s the thing, I don’t cheat. I may be a shitty boyfriend at times, especially with all the traveling and time away from each other, but cheating? That is inexcusable.” His eyes were fixed on hers when he continued and the intensity she found in those eyes made her squirm in her seat. “Had I been dating someone I’d have watched you from afar, cursing whatever deity for giving me a glimpse of yourself when they’d know I couldn’t act on it… The truth is I would have left the game. I was drawn to you like a compass needle is drawn to the north and I wanted you. Anything from the moment we said hello would be considered cheating in my book.”

A flustered laugh escaped Lucy’s mouth; she wasn’t expecting any of what he said, admittedly his stand on cheating mirrored hers but the other half of his speech floored her. Never had a man been so candid in his interest towards her and she was at a loss for words.

She was saved by the arrival of a boisterous man who introduced himself to her as Jay, the owner of Mike’s City Diner. He and Chris shared that typical bro hug after he set down the plates.

“I took the liberty of making your waffle with almond milk when Corinne told me you said no meat.” He had an accent she couldn’t place it. “I hope it is to your liking.”

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you.” She took a bite of the waffle and moaned at the taste, speaking between bites. “This is amazing Jay, best waffle ever.”

“Thank you. I’m happy you like.” He looked between Chris and Lucy. “It is the first time you bring woman with you. Corinne was… disappointed. I can see why she can’t compete with your chosen fire head. Beautiful woman.”

“Keep it up and I’ll tell Janet you’re hitting on my girl.” Chris pointed his forkful of pancakes at Jay, before popping it in his mouth.

“Janet more prettier than Lucy because Janet is my wife.” Jay grinned at them. “I’ll leave you to your food. Wonderful day friends.”

She busied herself with another forkful of waffles and strawberries, trying not to focus too much on Chris calling her his girl.

“Don’t mind Jay, he’s a flirt. Didn’t I tell you the food was good?” Chris drizzled more syrup on his pancakes. “The man is a breakfast food king if I was a billionaire I’d hire him as my personal breakfast chef!”

“But you gotta eat more than just breakfast though. Who would you hire for dinner service?” she dumped most of the cream in her coffee, smirking when Chris cringed.

“Uhm… that’s a tough one.” He stroked his beard in thought. “Either Tyler Florence or Jeff Mauro… I’m going with Jeff Mauro; I love sandwiches and he is the king. What about you?”

“I don’t even need to think about it, it’s all about the good vanilla and the Italian mascarpone! Ina Garten is the Barefoot Contessa for a reason.” She observed.

“Now that would cost you an arm and a leg.” Chris countered. “And if you want Jeff to go make the cheese in a climate-controlled cave in Connecticut, then you’d be bankrupt by the next dinner service.”

“But she told me store bought was fine.”

“Store bought is never fine.” He gasped in mock horror.

Trying to contain her laugh had Lucy wiping away the moisture from the corner of her yes. “I can’t believe you watch Food Network, Chris!”

“Well, there’s just so many times you can play Boggle while on set. Sometimes you just want to watch something to take your mind off things you know?” He pushed his empty plate away, mirth in his voice. “Plus Chopped is psych! Scarlett, Sebastian and I place bets on our favorites. I usually leave a hundred dollars richer by the end of our marathons.”

..__..__..__..__..__

The Museum of Science was somewhat busy for a Monday since most schools in the city were already off for the Holidays, making Chris lower his cap to cover his eyes as they entered the building.

Lucy’s eyes got big when she took in the place. “Oh my god, this is incredible! It’s almost bigger than the Museum of Natural back in New York.”

“I believe New York has more exhibits but we have more square footage or something like that. They grow everything big in Mass.” He winked.

“Don’t I know it?” Lucy waggled her eyebrows, laughing before grabbing the map she had picked up at the entrance. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

“I got us tickets to the Lightning! show at two, the Planetarium at three thirty and the butterfly garden at five pm.” Chris held her hand and lead her to the right side of the building while pointing things up in the map she held. “Maybe we could start with the dinos and make our way back to the red wing for the show?”

“Let’s head downstairs and see the Triceratops exhibit then, they are my favorite.”

“So, you like then horny, uh?” Chris whispered in her ear while they descended the escalator.

“Horny and big boned.” She whispered back with a straight face, a sneaky hand landing on the fly of his pants. “Small boners just don’t do it for me.”

A mother cleared her throat behind them just as they reached the lower level, and they moved quickly out of the way, looking sheepishly at the woman giving them a death glare before bursting into giggles.

“You’re such a bad influence on me.” Chris tutted at Lucy, bringing her close to his side and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“ME?” she protested with a laugh. “I was merely stating the fact that I like big dinosaurs, like a triceratops or a brachiosaur.”

“I’ll show you a brachiosaur when we get home.” He winked at her.

“If I recall correctly, your brachiosaur has quite a thick neck. Can I pet it? Maybe kiss it a few times?” She teased him, rubbing his forearm in a suggestive manner.

“Are you trying to make me pop a boner in public woman?” she saw him discreetly adjusting himself. “Come on, let’s see those dinos.”

The exhibit was fantastic, three full skeletons held the main floor, including a small, unhorned hatchling that made Lucy tear up. They admired the displays, taking turns pointing something they liked and debating which dinosaur would in against various superheroes, in the end deciding Hulk would probably join the dinosaur side, just to even things out. When they got to the T-Rex exhibit, Chris joked about this being Dodger’s wet dream and that he the only reason he wouldn’t steal a bone to take home to Dodger was that it wouldn’t fit inside his house, prompting Lucy to ask about it.

“The whole main floor is gorgeous, but I looooove your kitchen, it’s freaking amazing. If I ever move, I want a huge kitchen just like yours!”

“It was the first room I renovate when I bought the house last year.” Chris beamed. “Every detail, from the island to the fixtures have a history or a special meaning. I installed the backsplash myself.”

“Wait, you did it yourself?” Lucy asked, wide-eyed.

“The backsplash yeah, but I’ve had a lot of help from Dix and Garret during the reno. I also stained the hardwood and installed the mantle over the fireplace.” Chris grinned proudly and pulled up his phone, opening the gallery app and showing Lucy the before pictures. “Dix’s a contractor, damn good one too. We hired a design to come up with a general idea of I wanted and went from there. We’ve finished all the main floor, the master bedroom, and bathroom plus the staircase, but the other three bedrooms, the guest bathroom, basement and the backyard are kind of a mess. We only work on the house when I’m not filming, so it’s going slow.”

They walked over to the entrance of the Theater of Electricity as it was almost time for the show to start, and sat on a backless wooden bench, away from the main area, Chris straddling the bench and Lucy facing him, one leg bent over the smooth surface.

“Chris, the fact that you decided to tackle your own renovations when you could just pay someone to do it for you is remarkable. It speaks volumes of what you are as a person and what you want in life. My dad always quotes, we shape our buildings: thereafter, they shape us. You’re turning that place into a reflection of what you want for you and it shows.”

Chris regarded her for a moment, wistful eyes scanning hers.

“My ma’ always told me something similar before I moved to Los Angeles: whatever good things we build, end up building us. I’ve been trying to live by it, surrounding myself with people that want to build each other up, who share their talents with others in the best way they can. It takes a while to weed out the bad, especially in a place that thrives in being fake. There are many good, hard-working people in L.A. but there are at least three times as fakers and clingers who just want to use you. I love my house there, but sometimes it feels less like a home and that’s especially true now that I’ve bought the condo here. Ma’ was ecstatic when I told her I had found a place here, granted she wanted me closer in Sudbury, but I reckon Boston is a heck of a lot closer than Los Angeles. She helped decorate the living room and the big ass island was more of her idea than mine, but in the end, I loved it.”

“She’s got an awesome taste; I have the biggest case of kitchen envy now. I absolutely adore my apartment, it isn’t small by the city standards, but it doesn’t have much kitchen space. It certainly doesn’t have a big ass island, but it’s home.” She shrugged.

“I remember Penny mentioning you guys are from somewhere upstate, when did you move to New York?”

Lucy shifted in her seat. She would not think about him and what made her move back home.

“Late 2002. I had just gotten back from England; I went through a rough patch for a while and I wanted to start fresh some place where I could lose myself and not worry about everyone from the neighbors to the Mayor knowing your name. So as soon as I could I packed again and moved to New York. My father was supportive, but my Mamma was livid, she didn’t speak to me for a whole month.” she saw the confusion on his face. “That might not sound like a lot, but my Mamma is originally from Trento, Italy. She embodies all the stereotypes of an Italian woman you can think of. Not talking to me was maybe harder on her than it was on me!”

“My mother is like a quarter Italian so I can relate a little when she gets going is you better shut up and listen because she means business.” Chris nodded. He looked her over and Lucy had the distinct feeling he was trying to pierce some of her story together. He was much more perceptive than she initially thought, there would be no glossing over details with him. “England, uh? For dancing school?”

“Yeah… I joined when I was sixteen. Did almost six years with the company.”

He looked impressed. “That’s a whole lot of time dancing. What was the school like?”

“Demanding. We had to be the best one hundred percent of the time, you could lose your spot if you ever slacked on grades or on your dancing. I had a private tutor for classes, so I had no free time until I was finished with their version of high school. Then I got promoted to first soloist when I was twenty, so I barely know any touristy spots in London.”

“I keep wondering why you don’t want to tell me that you actually danced for the Royal Ballet of London and not some random school.” Chris gave her a pointed look and Lucy’s eyes widened. “Your sister is your biggest fan you know? She might have mentioned you danced with them once… or twenty times.”

Lucy looked away, her face heating up. Penny had been so supportive back in the day, even at thirteen, she was Lucy’s most supportive family member, encouraging her older sister to apply to the scholarship, staying in during the weekends so they could practice together. The events that preceded her return to the States still stung Penny and Lucy never thought her sister would look over them to hype her up to her friends.

“I don’t know really, I feel like I’m bragging when I mention their name. And some people look at my body and think ‘yeah right’ because a ballerina is supposed to be always this dainty girl and I’m now the opposite of that.” She waved her hand in front of her body. “I got rather crafty with not saying exactly where I studied, they mostly assume it was just a regular dancing school.”

“People are assholes.” He conceded.

The theater doors opened before Chris could comment further and they were ushered inside after handing their tickets to the greeter. They chose a seat near the middle row, moving all the way to the last seats, Chris pulling his cap down and slumping a little in the seat while everyone got seated around them. When the lights diminished, he righted himself up, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair.

Chris brought her arm over her shoulder, drawing her closer. He leaned into her, whispering in her ear. “I’m sure you were the cutest ballerina ever, but I much prefer the upgraded version of you.”

Even if she had any cute comebacks, and she didn’t, lights went up on the stage and the presenter introduced Professor Lightning, who proceeded to show the audience how Tesla coils worked and how to create lightning strikes at the comfort of their own lab. That was the first of the many corny science jokes of the thirty-minute show and Lucy lost herself in it, along with Chris.

..__..__..__..__..

“Maybe they’ll get it ready before we die, can you imagine it? A holiday trip to Mars?” Chris was walking backward while talking to Lucy, hands waving around in excitement, and she thought he looked like a little kid dreaming about what he’d do when he got older. It was the cutest thing.

They had just left the planetarium wing and they decided to head back down to the Starbucks locates at the atrium for some coffee. Chris had fake gagged when she ordered a Caramel Brûlée Latte and she made a show of drinking it slowly, moaning and making faces to get back at him. He ordered three double espressos in a grande cup, making the barista blink and repeat the order back to him.

They were now sitting by one of the many tables overlooking the Charles River, and Chris was dreaming of spending weekends on Mars instead of down in the Bahamas.

“I guess if you had thirty million dollars you could do it.” She agreed just to appease him. She saw his smile get bigger, probably already deciding which investments he’d give up being in that voyage. “You know, for each leg of the trip.”

Chris dropped his shoulder, defeated. “Maybe I could just go to the moon then. A quick getaway to look at Earth from another perspective.”

He looked serious and Lucy had a feeling he was indeed planning for that excursion.

“Would you really do it?” She inquired with a tilt of her head.

“Hell yes, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d crap my pants while going up but man, that would be so fucking cool.”

Lucy watched as Chris got a dreamy look on his face and she contemplated if he would think she was crazy if she got him a Christmas gift. She just had the perfect idea for one.

“Send me a picture when you get there ok? You’d pay to go, I wouldn’t go even if they’d paid me.”

“Is it the heights?”

“Actually no, I love rollercoasters and I’ve bungee-jumped before.”

“You what?!” He stared at her with wide eyes.

“I did yeah! It’s such a cool experience, I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“You better! So, if it isn’t heights, what is it?”

“I’m terrified of enclosed spaces. I can barely make out off an elevator without going into a mini panic attack.” Her body did a quick shake at thought of being inside a spaceship. “It’s not too much of being in a tight space but I need windows and I need to know I can quickly get out of the situation if the need arises. You can’t exactly do that while going to the moon.”

“I can see how that would pose a problem.” Chris nodded and finished his coffee. “How do you cope with flying?”

“I have a prescription for Xanax, but I try to avoid using it. I rely on lots and lots of distraction.” She picked her up her phone, unlocked and pulled up Spotify, showing him a playlist labeled Flying Sucks, and he scrolled through her picks. “I’m so glad I don’t need to turn off our phones anymore, I have my headphones on and music blaring from the moment I step into the plane.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but how does one go from Chopin to Slipknot in two songs?” He turned her phone back to her pointing from Nocturne op. 9 to Duality.

Lucy cocked her head at him, a grin on her face.

“My tastes are very singular,” she whispers trying to contain her laugh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Chris paused for a bit and she saw the moment he got the joke.

“Did you… Did you just quote Fifty Shades Of Grey to me?” Chris was laughing so hard he dropped her phone on the table, his hand automatically landing on his chest. That was the third time she saw him doing that and vowed to try and make him laugh that hard again, it was the most adorable thing.

A few other visitors turned around startled by the sound of his laugh and Lucy shushed him, ineffectively. She saw a teenage girl squinting at Chris, trying to place the man sitting two tables away from her and Lucy immediately got up and stood in front of him, blocking her view.

“Let’s go, doofus, there’s a very curious teen staring at you and I say she’s seconds away from figuring it out who you are.” She gestured with a thumb to the table behind her. Lucy grabbed his hand and pulled him up, Chris lowering his cap while they left the cafeteria area.

“I still can’t believe you quoted that awful movie at me,” Chris said while tossing their cups on a nearby bin.

“And I don’t understand how you know that line at all.” She pointed at him, waggling her finger.

“They uh, may have offered me the role?” Chris glanced sheepishly at her.

“THEY WHAT?” Lucy shrieked and immediately covered her mouth. Chris pulled them into an empty alcove to get away from prying eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling but what?”

“They offered me the role. Twice. The second time they even threw veto power on whom would’ve play Anastacia.” He shook his head. “It was a hard pass from me. The sex scenes in the book were passable, but the plot felt iffy, very constricted and oversimplified.”

“You’re the first guy I know who actually have an opinion about the plot and do not dismiss it as being mommy porn.” Lucy praised him.

“I make a point of having an informed opinion and not rehash what others think.” Chris nodded. “If that means I have to read a book about kinky fuckery, hey, let’s do it!”

Lucy threw her head back with a laugh and they resumed their walk, discussing their favorite books and authors and soon it became very clear they did not share the same interests. Chris tended towards non-fiction, biographies, science and spirituality books while Lucy rarely picked up something that wasn’t about fantasy, especially vampires and wizards. They did agree on Harry Potter and A Brief History Of Time, so they called it a win anyway.

They circled back to the blue wing where the Butterfly Garden was located when a voice over the intercom announced that everyone with tickets for the five pm showing was now welcomed to enter the Garden, and they quickly made their way there.

They started the tour on the opposite side of the entrance, walking around a path brimming with the colorful wings of the kaleidoscope who lived there. Lucy took pictures of her favorites and marveled at how nature worked, turning into what most would consider an ugly nuisance into such an exquisite animal.

The thick, lush foliage extended all the way to the glass ceiling, the various shades of green a great contrast against the gray skies above. Each section of the garden filled with different types of flowers and plants to attract the butterflies, it was a cacophony of plants from all over the world, turning the area into something quite magical in Lucy’s eyes.

Chris stopped here and there to discuss whatever butterfly they could see, Chris pointing what he remembered of his previous visit and telling Lucy anecdotes of his time there with his family.

“Then he convinced Shanna to lick the picture! So she goes up, takes the mounted frame from the wall and low and behold, licked the fucking leaf!” Chris remembered laughing. “Of course, the moment she lifted the frame a silent alarm must’ve sounded somewhere, and two guards appeared out of thin air… and that’s how the Evans Family got banned from the MOS for six months.”

Lucy wheezed as she laughed, trying to control her breathing. “Poor Shanna! You and your brother were not kind with your sisters uh?”

“We’re vicious sometimes.” He agreed. “But we’re also very protective, I got in trouble once because I bit a guy for pushing Carly off the swing set. Granted I was six at the time, but man, I drew blood and everything! Dad had to pay for his hospital visit and I lost dessert rights for a month.”

He pouted, making Lucy giggle.

“Your family sounds amazing Chris! Are you guys doing something special for Christmas?”

“Mom’s hosting a huge party this year, so the whole family will be there. Lots of Evans and Capuanos, plenty of food and booze, games, I live for those parties, they are my favorite, so much love going on. Big breakfast in the morning, let them go crazy opening presents, then we take the kids sledding or to ice skate on a pond nearby and then we all gather to the party. How about you?”

“That sounds lovely. It’s just the immediate family this Christmas for us. Mamma insists on having all her kids there at least every other year, it’s a deal she makes with all in-laws when they become family.” She paused. Lucy was the only one who had never taken a boyfriend to one of their gatherings. She had mastered the art of ignoring the looks of pity her family sent her way every time she arrived alone, dodging questions about her failed love life now second nature. “We don’t have many relatives in America, mamma being Italian and Dad from Scotland, so we kinda created our own family traditions; we decorate cookies on the 24th, mamma chooses the Yule log, and we sit around talking about our year while listening to the Beatles and drinking wine. Then on Christmas Day we go ice skating, hold the ‘Annual Seabrook Snowman Challenge’, which I suck at by the way, and consume way too much wine and crostoli.”

“I love crostoli, my mom never got the recipe right from her grandma so hers it’s not so great… But I’ll deny it to my grave if you ever tell her I said that.” He tapped the end of her nose, making her giggle. “It’s been such a long time since I had them though.”

“Mom makes a ton of them to give the neighbors as gifts, I’ll save you some and send them back with Penny.”

“That’d be awesome, thank you.” He ran a hand through her hair and brought her closer, intending to kiss her. His lips almost touch her when a group of kids no older than six-year-old breezes by them, screaming ewwww and making kissing noises. “I guess you got cooties.”

They giggle and separate, but he clasps her hand while they toured the winding paths.

Walking further into the garden they got to a small section where hundreds of white or blue butterflies floated over the flowers, enjoying a rare ray of sun that filtered from the glass ceiling above. Chris took his phone out from his front pocket and handed it over to Lucy before embracing her, arms closing around her front and pulling her closer, her back molded to his front. She shivered at the full body contact and had trouble opening the camera app. Searching for the best angle, she took a couple of pictures of them surrounded by the clouds of wings, including one where a blue butterfly sat on Chris’ shoulders and Lucy had a surprised look on her face, which quickly become their favorite.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the museum will close in ten minutes.”

The voice over the intercom made them both jump, and Chris looked at the clock.

“Wow, it’s almost six already?” He looked surprised.

“Are you serious?” Lucy couldn’t believe how fast the day had gone by.

Yesterday had been amazing, all the teasing leading to a frenzied and amazing night of sex but if she had to choose her favorite time with Chris had been today. There were no awkward moments, not long silences where they didn’t know what to say to each other. As much as she was pressed not call it a date at the beginning, there was no denying today had been exactly that. And she loved every second of it.

Now came the hard part, letting go of Chris and going back to her own life.

“At least it’s not snowing yet, roads should be clear.” He talked absently. Chris scratched his beard appearing to miles away from the museum already and Lucy tried not to let it bother her.

The escalator had a line and the elevator was for seniors, pregnant women and people in need of assistance, so they took the stairs, keeping closer to the wall as to not draw much attention.

He picked up her left hand, drawing patterns on her palm before twisting their fingers together while they descended the stairs to get to the garage. Lucy noticed how touch drove he had been the entire day, always reaching out to her, holding her hand while they walked, circling her waist while they waited in line for tickets. It occurred to her he would distance himself from her while they were in public and she understood why he would do it but in a deeper level, she was elated when he didn’t. She thought back to that morning’s conversation; I won’t shy away from someone I care about’, and her heart skipped a beat. Could he care about her in a more permanent way than a one-night stand? She shook her head. No, that wasn’t possible, right?

Then how you would explain your own feelings? Her heart had terrible timing, as always. Okay, so maybe today had been better than good. I was a fucking great day okay, could you at least own up to that? And Lucy couldn’t argue because it really had been that.

At least she’d had the memories of their time together, the last thirty hours had been incredible, and she knew a smile would always accompany those memories, no matter what happened from now on.

They got to the garage after a few minutes, people shuffling around them to get to their cars as quickly as possible. They walked fast, not bothering with their coats, just wanting to get inside his car. Lucy was really looking forward to sliding against the heated leather seats.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” Chris exclaimed pulling her along. His wide stride made her almost run after him, air leaving her mouth in smalls white clouds as she breathed out. He hit his key fob a few meters before they reached the car and engine came to life with a hum. He opened the door for her, and she placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before getting inside. Chris quickly went around to the driver’s seat and moaned when the heated air hit his skin. “Oh, much better.”

“Do you think Audi would sell me just one of these seats? The heating at the studios sucks, I’d love to have one of these for my office!” She wriggled happily in her seat.

“Or you could buy a proper office chair that does the same thing?” He pointed at her when he got behind the wheel. Soft jazz music filled the air around them when he turned the key, the melodic sound swirling around them.

“Uhm I could, but then I couldn’t tell people how I convinced fucking Audi to make me a custom chair. Now that’s a story.” She chuckled and turned on her seat, facing him.

“So buy a chair, slap an Audi sticker to the back of it and tell the story anyway, how ‘bout that?”

“Uhm… There’s an idea.”

He laughed. “Why are we discussing this particular one anyway?”

“’ Cuz there’s like a hundred cars trying to leave at the same time and we’re stalling?”

“Such a smart girl.” Chris reached over the console and picked up her hand, playing with her rings. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

He nodded and concentrated on the traffic inside the garage, managing to get out and merge into the exit lane, all with one hand, the other still holding hers.

Why in the world did she say she wasn’t hungry when he asked? She wasn’t, that was true, but they could have gone somewhere to just talk, she could have a few more moments with him and now she blew it. God, she was stupid. She thumped her head in the back seat, cursing herself. Was it too late to say something, hey, changed my mind, let’s go grab a pizza or something.

She kept her body turned to him as he drove, a leg bent on the seat, studying his profile, the little bump on his nose, the mole on his left cheek, how his beard was not dark blond but auburn like Penny’s hair. She wanted to commit it all to memory so she could relive it once she got back home. Maybe daydream about not being a fucking coward and ask him to take her back to his place instead of back to Garrets.

They drove in silence for the next ten minutes, the only sounds inside the car coming from the speakers. He pulled to the curb of Garret’s house and Chris killed the engine, turning to Lucy. She felt the intensity of his gaze while she studied his face, waiting for his final words. This was it. He would thank her for a good time, say she was a nice girl and send her away.

Was it even possible to have feelings for someone you’d met in person just the day before? Maybe it was just some leftover infatuation from the night before? Sure, she had heard of him from Garret and Penny, they were practically his personal cheerleader squad, but meeting Chris had been a whole different experience. She couldn’t remember the last time she’s had so much fun with a man. It wasn’t just the sex, which by the way had blown her mind after twenty plus months of celibacy, but how he’d made her feel like the most important person in the world when he talked to her, how he listened with his whole body, really paying attention to what she was talking about. How he laughed at her jokes, cracking up with that adorable and dorkable laugh of his. He had cut through her walls and her fears with his witty banter and a charming personality and she had been impotent to resist him. She liked everything about him. She was falling for the guy.

No.

She had already fallen.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Stupid, silly girl. Why on earth would someone like him ever want more than a one-time thing with the likes of her?

She screamed at that poisonous voice to shut up, she didn’t want to hear it today. She concentrated on the affirmations Doctor Clark had given her.

She was worth it; she was not perfect but every being deserved love.

She was happy with her body; maybe she wasn’t a size four or even a six, but she was stylish, some days she would be so bold as to call herself sexy.

She was a good person; a loving friend, a kind person, a passionate lover,

She was deserving of love.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, willing away all bad thoughts, breathing in and out, centering herself.

Maybe not his love, but he had awakened something inside her, if Captain America himself thought she was worthy of his time, that voice surely must be wrong.

“Lucy?”

She opened her eyes and leaned forward, resting her hand on his knee.

“Thank you for an amazing time, Chris. I haven’t had this much fun in quite a few years.”

She kissed his cheek, lingering just one second more. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she moved to open the door.

“What, no, Lucy wait.” He hit the lock button, breathing rapidly. “Just wait, give a man a moment to breathe, will ya’?”

“Chris?” She tilted her head, watching as he took deep breathes, counting on his fingers while murmuring what looked like affirmations, much the same she did earlier.

“Sorry, I had to run a few scenarios in my head. A trick my therapist taught me for when I get anxious.” He explained, tangling the fingers of one of their hands and pulling her to him, kissing her square in the mouth. “None of that cheek kissing thing alright?” he pleaded when he released her.

“Alright?” she had no idea what to answer so she nodded instead.

“Good, good. We had a great day together, didn’t we?” his free hand reached for a stray lock of her hair, twirling it between his fingers.

“I believe I thanked you for it already.” She looked nonplussed at him.

“That you did baby.” He kissed her again, this time biting her lower lip. “What if this wasn’t the end of that time?”

“Chris?”

“What if instead of dropping you here, you get out, get your bags and go home with me?” his clears eyes shone with hope and he licked his lips, waiting.

“You know we leave after lunch, right, I told you that.” Her heart was speeding up and she was sure he could feel her hands getting clammy. Was he really asking her to spend the night again?

“That would give us more,” he checked his watch, “eighteen more hours together.”

“Are you sure Chris? I’m okay with this being the end of our little rendezvous, I really liked the day we had.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

His smile vanished.

“Oh, unless you don’t want to, I can understand that.” He chewed on his lip, defeated.

“Unlock the door, Chris.”

“Okay.” He hit the button and bowed his head. “Can I… can I kiss you goodnight?”

“Yes, you can kiss me goodnight.” She opened the door but didn’t move, waiting for him to look up. “You can kiss me goodnight after I have my wicked way with you after we get back to your place.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! I was beating myself up for not saying yes when you asked if I was hungry.”

His face broke up in a huge grin.

“We can eat, then go back home.”

“I just want to spend more time with you, I don’t care what we do.”

His lips were cold when she kissed him, the outside air rapidly entering the car, but neither cared, too lost in each other to bother closing the door.

“I’ll go grab my bags.” She said when they separated.

“Hurry up woman, we have just nineteen hours and fifty-five minutes left.”

She threw her head back and laughed, getting out of the car and running up the stairs.

“Hey Lucy?” he yelled from the lowered window. She turned to him, after knocking on Garret’s door. “I hope you don’t have plans to sleep tonight.”

[shoelace-noose]

#050 | Shelter

Ella Lopez & Klaus Hargreeves. A kind stranger helps Klaus.

Word Count: 728

If there’s one thing Klaus has learned on the streets, it’s to accept any help offered to him. Someone wants to get him a coffee? Great, he’s been hungry for a couple days. A retail employee tells him he can stand inside the store because it’s pouring rain? Fantastic, he’s freezing. Someone offers him drugs in exchange for back alley (? Awesome, he’s itching in the beginning stages of withdrawal.

Therefore, when the peppy girl in sneakers gives him a sympathetic smile and invites him into her apartment on the third day of thick snow, he doesn’t hesitate before accepting her offer. It’s not like she could hurt him if she tried, and if she did, well, Klaus deserves the pain. Hazards of being a homeless junkie with no lifeskills! Life is fun, really, so much fun. He doesn’t even tear up when he sees a kindness in the girl’s eyes he hasn’t noticed in anyone but Vanya until today. Scout’s honor.

“Were all the shelters full?” she asks as she tucks a throw blanket around Klaus’ shoulders. “Because normally in weather like this, they find room.”

Klaus laughs like a crackling fire which, actually, would feel kinda nice right now. “Every shelter in the area blacklisted me.”

“Why?”

“My dad. Before the old bastard kicked the bucket, he paid them all off not to help me. Thought it would set  me straight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

After that, the two of them are quiet for a moment. What is there to say? They don’t know each other, and Klaus probably doesn’t smell great because it’s been a good three weeks since he was able to give himself a quick once over with a baby wipe, much longer since he could shower or even wash his face. The girl is squeaky clean though, down to her neatly trimmed nails. Kind of. He makes note of the fact that her index and middle finger have nails shorter than the others. Such luck is this, that a homophobe didn’t accidentally take him in before they saw his chipped black nail polish and made a call about what he really deserves.

“My name is Klaus,” he blurts out. Fuck, when was the last time he heard that name? He sure as hell doesn’t tell his dealers, and definitely doesn’t have any friends. Unless you count the guy he fights with about who gets to eat out of the trash can behind Vons, which Klaus does not.

“Nice to meet you Klaus, I’m Ella. Are you hungry?”

“Very.”

Laughing, Ella disappears into the kitchen for a moment and comes back with a box of saltine crackers. As a kid, Klaus hated them, but he knows he can no longer afford to be choosy and takes them without hesitation, mumbling out the most sincere thanks of his life. It’s been a while since he’s eaten something, possibly before the storm. He’s been eating snow, but that’s more so he doesn’t get dehydrated. There’s no nutritional value, no calories to sustain him, not even the little he gleans from the salvageable bites of rotting food he does manage to get from the trash can.

Dry, moisture sucking wafers are the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth, he decides. Even better than the extremely fun mixture of Red Bull, vodka, and orange juice he had at that one frat party, and that shit tasted pretty good. He crams too many in his mouth out once because he has this habit leftover from even before he left home. When one has six siblings who share every meal, and ten minutes to scarf it down between training, they learn to eat fast. Luther always got the most because Number One serves himself first, and he needed it oh so badly. Asshole.

“Why don’t you wait out the snow here?”

“Huh?” Klaus asks, mouth full of crackers. He can almost feel Reginald’s cane whacking him in the back of the head for bad manners. Finish chewing first, he reminds himself. “Sorry. What?”

“Since you obviously have nowhere to go, you can stay here until things get better outside.”

“Really?”

Ella smiles at him kindly. “Really. Plus, I can probably find some old clothes of my brothers’ for you to wear, if you wanna shower and change.”

There are tears in Klaus’ eyes as he nods gratefully.

[thesiteofstyle]

ALEXA SANTORY 

The Site of Style’s Editor in Chief shares her curly hair secrets, bomb beauty products, and how not to fall victim to fast fashion.

“My name’s Alexa (@iconicsoul__) , I’m 23 and I was born and raised in New York City. Let me start this interview by saying that I'm so grateful for each and every one of the readers on the site. I came to Kara with the idea for this series while going through a lot in my personal life and it's been a dream come true for me to work on this and have it be everything I envisioned and more. I love talking about beauty and I love to hear others talk about it, too. Thank you for giving us the space to do so. Growing up in New York has taught me everything I know about about fashion and beauty and how to appreciate it. There’s a lot to look at and take in in New York; you’re always getting inspiration from somewhere. I like to think I’ve mastered the ubiquitous beauty routine. It’s become a personal joy of mine to talk about and try different things with makeup and skincare. I’m wearing a face mask as I write this.

I’ve been lucky enough to have had pretty okay skin for most of my life. My mom really only dealt with adult acne and my dad has never had a pimple a day in his life, so thanks guys!! I personally deal with hormonal breakouts or stress breakouts, which I’ve (kind of) learned to control. I’m obsessed with Lush’s Coalface cleanser; I use it morning and night. Then I tone with Witch Hazel, followed by a nice layer of Neutrogena Hydro Boost Water Gel moisturizer. If I’m wearing makeup, I apply a thin layer of Priming Moisturizer Rich as a primer. It looks really beautiful under makeup. I tone with Pixi Glow Tonic at night maybe twice a week, to help fade scarring and to brighten my complexion. It has glycolic acid, which is great for hyper pigmentation, anti-aging, and brightening overall. It burns a little, but I kinda like it. I use the Hydro Boost serum for extra hydration (lots of hyaluronic acid; good for keeping your skin supple), then a thick sexy layer of Priming Moisturizer Rich. It’s everything. I love the Mask of Magnaminty from Lush, and Catastrophe Cosmetic. I’ve tried just about every sheet mask from The Face Shop; their “Solution” line is crazy. I have keratosis pilaris on my arms (aka KP, aka chicken skin; it’s not as serious as it sounds) so I’ve been using Lush’s Buffy bar. It’s a game changer. Palmer’s Cocoa Butter is and forever will be the only body lotion that matters to me.

Doing my makeup is almost as therapeutic as my skin routine. Even though it’s simple, I take it very seriously. I try to only do it in natural light because it’s the most realistic. I want to look as natural as possible, but still kind of extra. I start by mixing Glossier’s Perfecting Skin Tint in dark and deep, because that’s my actual skin tone but I live in a place with real weather. Then, I put a little Stretch Concealer under my eyes. Just a little, though, because trying to hide my dark circles is futile at this point so I’ve accepted them. They’re kind of sexy in a bedroom-y sort of way. I always wear a ton of mascara; I like gaudy lashes, what can I say? Better Than Sex is my go to, but I’m using Tarteist Lash Paint right now. I used to do eyeliner everyday; I love blue eyeliner because it enhances brown eyes really nicely. I use Boy Brow on my eyebrows. I don’t let anyone touch my eyebrows ever; I don’t even touch them that often. Their natural shape is perfect to me. Pink or coral blushes are my go to, like the Pixi Multi Balm or Cloud Paint. I love Colourpop highlighters; the formula is buttery and the pigment is really intense for only $8. Forget Me Not and Butterfly Beach are my two favorite shades. I'll put a little on my finger then spray my Pixi Glow Mist setting spray on it, then pop it on my cheekbones. It makes the highlight blinding. I never wore lipstick until college, which was where I tried my first dark lip, and I haven’t looked back since. I’ll try any color once, though; I wore purple lipstick (like purple purple) to a Beyonce concert (love you, Bey). Again, Colourpop because their lipsticks are fantastic too and also very inexpensive. Their greatest hits for me are: Love Bug, Toolips, Lost, and Stingraye (RIP). Cruella by Nars is my favorite red. I pretend to know a lot about makeup, but in reality, I know jack sh*t but fake it till you make it, right? Contouring, baking, all that, it’s a higher art form I don’t really have the patience for but I still admire watching others do it. That’s why I like to keep it as simple as possible and only wear eye shadow once a year.

My hair is, to put it lightly, a lot of f*cking work. I have a mass of curly hair that does what it wants when it wants. I’ve been doing braid outs since the beginning of summer and it’s honestly been a game changer. My hair has grown immensely, especially now after the haircut I gave myself. That and I’ve FINALLY found products that really work. I wash with Organix Extra Strength Argan Oil conditioner. Sulfate free shampoo and conditioner is so important, especially for curly hair. And because of my hair’s texture, it has the tendency to look and feel very dry, so I don’t want to use products that strip the oils away. I dry my hair with a cotton t-shirt to reduce frizz and then apply Organix Penetrating Argan Oil to my ends. I follow with a nice, even coating (code for: a sh*t ton) of Shea Moisture Curl and Style Milk, then Curl Enhancing Smoothie, then I braid it. Deep conditioning is essential; their Jamaican Black Castor Oil masque has changed my hair for the better, as well as the serum. For slicked back styles, I use the Raw Shea Butter conditioner as a leave-in, some Queen Helene styling gel, a very old hairbrush that will forever be in my possession, and a lot of hope. When I straighten it, I make sure to deep condition before, because if I’m going to burn it between two extremely hot metal plates, I might as well give it some tender love and care first. I use L’Oreal Straightening Balm that acts as a heat protector and it also smells like candy, which is nice. My flat iron was all hype, but it’s by Remington. Once it’s straight, I wrap it into two low buns, put on a headband, and MOST IMPORTANTLY sleep with a satin bonnet. It lasts about 4 days.

CLOTHES!! Aw man, I love shopping, I always have; my grandma and I used to spend hours in Lord and Taylor and Macy’s and Century 21 when I was a kid. My family always let me take the lead on picking the clothes I want, which has definitely helped cultivate my champagne tastes on beer budgets. I’m sooooo picky when it comes to my clothes. I love anything easy, minimal, kind of lazy but still put together. When I shop, before I spend my money on anything, I always ask myself “will I see something like this on the rack next year? What about 5, 10 years from now?” If the answer is yes, I'll buy it. Fast fashion has sort of become this vortex of really corny fads, but if you look hard enough, you can find gems that can be timeless. I shop at Zara, H&M, and Uniqlo the most. Uniqlo’s jeans are the best jeans for me. I don’t wear a lot of color. That’s not to say I don’t like color, it’s just not what I gravitate towards. I’m very appreciative of the timelessness and simplicity of the t-shirt and jeans; so simple, yet so much can be done with it. It’s my uniform. High waisted anything is for me, especially jeans, and especially ones that hug my curves perfectly. Florals and stripes are the only patterns I really f*ck with. Give me ankle boots over any other type of shoe, or give me death tbh. I’m a shoe snob; I feel like Cher from Clueless when she says how picky she is about her shoes even though they only go on her feet. I’m a bag snob, too, unfortunately. I get it from my mom. Lately, I’ve been carrying a classic Coach backpack. My aunt gave it to my mom as a gift years ago, and now my mom has given it to me. I wrapped a vintage scarf from Spain around the top handle to add a personal touch.

My everyday jewelry is essential to my personal style; I feel naked if I go out without it. I wear: 5 rings (friendship knot, mermaid, arrow, snake, number 3), a Miansai screw cuff, a pastel stone bracelet (thanks Allyson!!!), a mal de ojo and red string (both blessed and given to me by my superstitious Cuban grandmother), a watch, earrings, and two necklaces. I mix gold and silver because I don’t follow the rules.

My Dolce Vita ankle boots from Urban that I found on a fluke visit. Kind of metallic, very pointy, just perfect.

I have a 100% silk robe my aunt bought in Hong Kong. It has a dragon embroidered on the back and two smaller dragons on the front. I wear it while I get ready; it makes me feel fucking fabulous.

Having a signature scent is very important; you don’t want to smell like everyone else. I’m hesitant to name the exact scent I wear, but it’s by Nest. It’s woody but floral, sweet but a little spicy. Overall very, very sexy. No one wears it like me.”

Alexa Santory interviewed by The Site of Style

[fabermemorialrink]

Day 2 of nurseydex week (bed sharing/room sharing)! Continues in the same universe as day 1.

“Come on up,” Dex says as he unlocks the door. There are trees lining the sidewalk in front of the brick building, and at this time of night, even only a few streets away from the nearest T station, the city is quiet. It’s as quaint as you can get in a metropolitan setting without having to move far west enough to wind up in the suburbs, and Dex admits that he’s grown used to it.

“I’m still blown away by how good you got at riding the subway,” Nursey says, nudging him with an elbow as they climb the stairs to Dex’s fourth floor apartment. “Remember that time you somehow wound up over in Queens?” he asks, teasing.

“That’s because your stupid train routes make zero sense,” Dex gripes.

“You’re a smart guy, Dex; you can figure out public transportation. I believe in you. Besides, it’s not that much better here.”

“It’s easier! There’s only five lines.” Nursey rolls his eyes.

“And I quote, ‘The green line is literally the fifth circle of hell and I hate everyone on it, including myself.’ Said by you only three weeks ago. Insightful, really.” 

“One, that was a one-off comment, and two, okay, it wasn’t. I mean that always; the green line is a travesty and a curse. Trains are bad.”

“Well, I’m just proud of you for not throwing down against the ticket machine,” Nursey laughs.

They're more or less meandering upwards, slowly working off the heaviness of dinner and drinks. In the cool stillness of an early June evening, the glow of a late summer sunset seems still to be hanging in the air even though the day grows late. A thin line of music can be heard from through the walls - Édith Piaf, from what Dex can make out as they pass.

Nursey’s fingers brushes against Dex’s as they round the last flight, and Dex instinctively resists his desire to link their hands, then remembers that he can totally do that now. So he does, taking Nursey’s hand, then forcibly cracking two of his knuckles; Nursey yelps, and reflexively clenches his fingers hard around Dex’s until he’s wincing too.

“Ow, you dick, I’m trying to compliment you here,” Nursey says with a pout, and Dex leaves a kiss on the back of his hand before letting them into his apartment.

Nursey has a tendency these days to turn into jelly when he's both sleepy and a little drunk, so they manage to get a glass of water in him and kiss lazily against Dex’s fridge for a few minutes until he starts to dissolve into pudding in Dex’s arms.

“Well, that answers one question,” Dex says into a sea of dark curls as Nursey tries again to nap vertically on him and they begin listing toward one side.

“Mmm, yeah, I think the only sleeping with you I’m up to right now is the literal kind,” Nursey mumbles against his throat, and Dex gently starts walking them backwards toward his bedroom.

“Sounds good to me.” He keeps one hand at Nursey’s waist and the other at the small of his back to guide him across the floor. Nursey’s arms are still wrapped around him like a kite in a tree, but they manage despite his tendencies.

“I take back everything I said about your dancing skills,” Nursey says as Dex turns them so he can drop him softly on the bed without Nursey sending them both crashing to the ground.

“Pretty fly for a white guy, eh?”

“Wow, okay, never mind.” Nursey laughs quietly into the pillow as Dex flips him off and returns to undoing the buttons on his shirt. It's one that Dex recognizes, which means they've been dating for long enough that Dex has started to memorize the contents of Nursey's closet again. The thought doesn't annoy him the way it did back in school, when he’d reach for a shirt and come up with a soft-knit sweater because Nursey had accidentally stolen his clothes again.

Nursey’s hands come up to bracket Dex’s hips as each button is freed. They're older now, obviously, but he still looks as sweetly pliant as he used to those odd nights Dex helped put him to bed after a kegster. It had been a different kind of yearning back then, new and undefined and terrifying, too much for the fragile peace they were building between themselves to explore. That was the working excuse anyway, more and more inapplicable as time went on, but it was what Dex held onto to protect his heart.

Now, he can lean down and press a kiss to Nursey’s lips if he wants to, his heartbeat only skipping because Nursey can still leave him breathless no matter how many years pass. He does so, and Nursey tries to tug him down to the sheets as well, but he slips free.

“Nope, not yet. Your morning breath is bad enough as it is; it’s biological warfare when you don’t brush your teeth.”

Nursey whines, reaching for the hem of Dex’s shirt to try and ensnare him again. “Can't you just pour some mouthwash down my throat and call it a day?”

“Is drowning in listerine really the way you wanna go out?”

“Going out the way I came in: minty fresh.”

“Not tonight, you’re not,” Dex says, kicking off his socks as he walks toward the bathroom. He drops clothes as he goes - belt, and shirt, and undershirt - like a sexy striptease trail, except it’s not sexy; he’s just fucking lazy. He kept a lot of the habits he developed through a childhood of living in a crowded house with little personal space and privacy, but sometimes he indulges in the luxury of living on his own, and does stuff like throwing his clothes wherever he wants and eating nutella straight out of the jar with a spoon. Chowder was a terrible influence on his life.

He’s brushing his teeth when Nursey finally shuffles in wearing sweatpants and a Samwell Theater t-shirt (signed by Ford in sharpie) he stole from Dex’s drawers. He drapes himself over Dex’s shoulders and reaches around him to grab his brush and blindly squeeze toothpaste onto the bristles. He winds up with a glob as large as a floret of cupcake frosting and winces when it prickles on his tongue.

They fall back into the old patterns they grew used to while living together in college, pretending to jostle for space while they brush even though the only use Dex has for the mirror is to make faces at Nursey and Chowder through their reflections. Dex finishes washing his face first and backs away from the sink to give Nursey room. Like always, he's a step too slow to avoid the claw of death swooping in to smear moisturizer on his face in three pale streaks; with a customary grimace, he allows it to happen before rubbing the lotion vigorously in, ignoring the way Nursey shakes his head in disappointment.

Nursey is indeed minty fresh when they kiss again, but still as structurally sound as a melting flan, so Dex maneuvers them back to bed. Because he’s a considerate person even when only half-awake, Nursey has tossed all of Dex’s shedded clothing onto his chair so they don’t wind up a very romantically injured accident on the floor. They flop onto Dex’s slightly too-small-for-two bed foregoing the covers even though the summer heat hasn’t grown sticky yet.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?” Nursey asks, turning his head against Dex’s pillow to watch him with those lovely eyes, half-lidded and sentimental. He’s probably composing something in his head again, twirling language together in ways Dex couldn’t even dream of. Nursey needs to write in the same way other people need to feel sunlight on their skin, and Dex has always admired the tenacity he knows it must take for him to keep writing even when the words don't come easy.

“How ‘bout the soup spoon,” he replies as he wraps an arm across Nursey’s waist. Nursey sleeps flat on his back anyway, so cuddling isn't very effective, but Dex knows being held makes him feel more grounded. He leaves his palm resting on one sharp hipbone, tracing arcs with his fingertips. Just a small physical reminder that this is real. That what they have is real.

“Okay, you can be the salad fork and I'll be the demitasse,” Nursey says, smiling when Dex squints at him.

“You have seen in person that I don’t know what any of those things are,” Dex grumbles. He’s been to a handful of these ridiculous functions that Nursey’s family has to attend on occasion, and resigned himself to surreptitiously studying other people before picking up a utensil. At least the food is always stellar. Luckily, Nursey’s parents are some of the most down-to-earth people that Dex has ever met, and have no problem eating easy mac out of mugs with them at Nursey’s place when they come to visit.

“Chill, Dex. I can teach you. A demitasse is just a small coffee cup. Demi is half, and tasse is cup. And a salad fork is a fork that you eat salads with. Salad is salad and fork is fork.”

“Informative. I can see why you always get five out of fives.”

Nursey gives him a little burst of a laugh, scooching an inch closer so that Dex can lean up against his shoulder. “Dude, have you been looking me up on teacher rating websites again?”

Dex makes a non-committal noise. “You have 4.5 chili peppers - where’d the other half pepper go?”

“I mean, I don’t think I lost it. I just never had it.” He shrugs, uncaring.

The expression Dex wears turns consoling. “You're seven out of five peppers to me, Nurse.”

Nursey’s smile brightens, and he covers the hand at his hip with his own. “That’s pretty damn hot - you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll get some saltines ready in case. The food of my people.”

“Maybe try yogurt instead.”

“Oh, you have a thing for yogurt? Guess I could work with that. I mean, it’s kinda untraditional, but I could try. For you.”

“Don’t try to shame me in my own bed, Will,” Nursey exclaims, and Dex leans forward to kiss the laugh from his mouth.

“Good thing it’s my bed, then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for sharing.”

Nursey really does look like he’s going to nod off any minute, but before his eyes slip closed he gives Dex another thoughtful look, asking softly, “You know that time you came to visit a few years back? Around my birthday?”

It had been shortly after a major snowstorm hit the northeast; there were still piles of dirty gray slush on every corner and enough meltwater puddles to soak Dex’s socks for days, but it had been nice, to see Nursey again after half a year. The first few times they met up post-graduation, he thought it might have become awkward between them without proximity to keep them in contact, but they always picked up where they left off, all friendly chirping and stupid arguments, now colored with a few dashes of nostalgic reminiscing of the good old days. That day he had brought a potted snake plant with him as a gift, to add to the growing collection of houseplants on the sill of Nursey’s classroom.

“Yeah, we rode a sightseeing bus around Manhattan for no reason.” Dex had stayed the night, and Nursey had offered him the bed. He'd tried to refuse, but Nursey wasn't having it, and built a nest from a spare comforter in the living room before Dex could protest again. “You slept on the couch that night,” he recalls now. It had struck Dex as a strange miracle at the time, because enough time had passed since they last shared a bed for convenience and necessity that he had almost forgotten what a trial it always was. And as platonic as those moments had been, he hadn't been sure his heart could handle the fresh re-opening of the wound it would be to wake to the sight of Nursey asleep just a few inches away from him, too close to touch but never too far to fall for again and again.

“And you slept in my bed.” The hand nearest Dex tangles in the bottom hem of his t-shirt, a few of Nursey’s fingers slipping under to brush against Dex’s stomach. Dex tries not to shiver, waiting for Nursey to collect his thoughts into something more cohesive. “I woke up first, for once. You were still asleep, bundled to the max in all the blankets, except your leg. That was falling off the bed, dunno how - I fit on there just fine and we’re literally the same height.”

Nursey shakes his head, amused by a memory Dex wasn’t awake for, and takes a slight breath. “You were drooling on the pillow,” he says. “Left a wet spot the size of the pond next to your face.”

“Oh my god,” Dex groans, burying his face against Nursey’s arm.

“Nah, it was cute. I went to check on you, turn your head so you didn't drown in your own spit. You stuck your hand out of your cocoon when I did - I thought you were gonna slap me, but you grabbed my arm instead, and you wouldn't let go. I think it was some sort of anti-sibling protective instinct kicking in.

“I thought you would keep me trapped there until you woke up, and I sat down on the floor next to you because I- I guess I wanted that? I wanted to be the first thing you saw that morning.”

“Just like you used to be?” Dex asks, and Nursey nods mutely. They never talked about it, those hangover mornings where Dex jolted awake so he could untangle himself from Nursey and the sheets before anyone could catch him selling himself out with his moonstruck eyes. “But you weren't there when I woke. You were making breakfast,” he says, the memory coming back into focus, pleasantly overcast in the cool wintry gray of Nursey’s apartment that morning when Dex stepped out barefoot on the cold floorboards to see Nursey studying the spark and sizzle of oil in his frying pan.

“I guess that was always the dilemma. Do I want to be the one you wake up to, or do I want to be the one who makes you breakfast? I wanted to be both, but breakfast seemed safer.” Nursey’s smile, sheepish and uneven, reminds Dex of the years they lost. The years they- well, wasted isn’t the right word for it, because this is the road they took to get to each other, and even now, knowing what they could have had sooner, Dex doesn’t think it was the wrong path. He thinks sometimes they needed to grow up apart before they could grow old together.

“You could be both. You are both,” Dex says, looping his arm tighter around Nursey’s waist. “My problem was always whether I wanted to be the one to make you laugh or the one to catch you when you fall down the stairs.”

“It’s pretty cool when you do them at the same time,” Nursey says sleepily, and Dex leans in to give him one final kiss.

“Night, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Nursey drifts off first and Dex is left half-conscious, watching him in all the ways he couldn't when he was younger and less sober. Wanting him just as much as he did at nineteen. But they're here now, and Dex doesn't regret a minute that led them to this point. It feels like all that yearning was a debt to paid before he could know how it felt for his love to be requited.

Eleven years ago, on a night much like this one, Dex had held his breath and closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Nursey wouldn’t feel his pulse running wild as he fell asleep. Tonight he exhales, waiting for his heart rate to slow, and holds Nursey closer as sleep approaches.

Dex wakes bathed in sunlight. Nursey is still out, tucked into Dex’s side with one arm lying at a strange angle, but he stirs when Dex shifts to stretch his legs. For a second, his forehead scrunches and his dark lashes flutter twice before his eyes open.

“Good morning, starshine,” Dex says as Nursey turns onto his side to embrace him. His hair is a mess and he’s still blinking himself awake, but he looks rested and comfortable here in Dex’s bed. The way Dex hopes he’ll always feel when they’re together.

“Morning, Will,” Nursey responds warmly, and Dex remembers that all this was worth waiting for.

He leaves a kiss at Nursey’s jaw, his cheek, his crown. Then he props himself up with Nursey still spread across his chest, ready for the new day.

“C’mon, Nursey. Let’s go get breakfast.”

[jesbakescookies]

Too Hot To Handle: Chapter Twenty One

So I kinda wrote a different kind of fanfiction. It’s nothing as in depth as my other fics so I am going to post it here. ENJOY!!

***Actor, Real Person Fanfiction, Walking Dead RPF***

Featuring: Jeffrey Dean Morgan X Original Female Character, Norman Reedus and others.. (FYI this is total fiction, as in I know nothing about JDMs life or that of his real SO and son etc. Because of this, for this work of fiction, they don’t exist. Jeffrey’s been a typical actor playboy dating fellow stars etc. This is written for sick daydreaming pleasure.)

Aria St. James is a busy woman with a thriving restaurant. She thought she had everything she needed until a few famous faces visit her dining room. A tall, dark and handsome actor decides Aria’s just what he’s been looking for.

Rating: Mature : NSFW **dirty dirty**

"We have a situation." Jeffrey's publicist spoke as soon as he answered his phone. Sighing, he glanced around the set and stepped away to get privacy. 

"What's up?"

"Well..." her voice trailed off.

"I'm kinda pressed on time Kathy."

"The good news is the announcement of your relationship has been overall positive, many already asking about a wedding."

Jeffrey felt his neck heat at the idea, the same damn thing had been plaguing his own mind for the last week. Ever since the hot shower sex, where a vision of Aria in white permeated his brain and forced him to realize just how hopelessly in love he was with the petite beauty. 

"So what's the bad news?"

"Well there is a female fan base that isn't too pleased with you settling down. They've started an anti-Aria twitter and have been spamming negative content about her all day. A lot of mean remarks and hurtful stuff."

"Jesus fucking Christ, are you serious?"

"Unfortunately." She sighed, as she typed in the backed ground. "Look if you want me to talk to Aria-."

"I'll talk to her. What're we doing about this?"

"There's nothing to do unless they start threatening her or stalking."

"For fucks sakes Katherine. So I'm supposed to go to her and say, 'Hey the internet hates you and I'm not doing shit to stop it?"

"Look Jeff, this stuff happens. Until they do something over the line, there's nothing we can do."

Rubbing his eyes roughly, Jeffrey noticed the interviewer looking for him. "I've got to go. Look try to do... something. I don't know, think of something to..."

"What? Make everyone like your girlfriend?" Katherine snarked. 

"Har har." Jeffrey, deadpanned. "Just do something okay, Kat. Please."

"Okay, okay. I'll think of something."

 Aria's phone blew up with messages from Megan as dinner service started. The frantic vibrations turning her peaceful Wednesday evening into a drama filled fuckfest.  She knew that the words of random idiots on the internet meant nothing but it didn't stop the knot from forming in her throat like a chunk of stale bread. Eventually she tossed her phone into her office and forced her mind to focus on work. 

Forcing it however, didn't work. Aria being scattered and distracted, sliced her thumb and burned her forearm by closing time. Javier tried to talk to her about everything but she was tight lipped. She needed to get her head on straight before even thinking about talking out loud. She felt way too sensitive to have a rational conversation. 

"You sure you don't want me to look at your arm?" Javier murmured, his gaze far to empathetic. Rolling her eyes, Aria scoffed, "Like I haven't tended to a burn before. Get fucked Javie."

"Okay, okay. Night boss lady."

"Night Jav. Hey... thanks though. For wanting to help."

Smirking, he gave her a nod before leaving the kitchen. Once the door locked loudly, Aria collapsed against the walk in fridge door and closed her eyes. 

"Its worth it. Jeff is worth it." She murmured, blinking away the prickling and straightening herself upright. Heading to the cabinet with all their first aid supplies, Aria began to tend to the burn and cut on her finger. 

A loud knocking had her freezing solid, her eyes widening as she realized she hadn't spoken to Jeffrey since that morning. Her phone was long forgotten in her office.

"Fuck." She muttered, wrapping a paper towel around her thumb, which was openly bleeding again. "Hold on."

Walking briskly to the front door, she found Jeffrey pacing with a scowl, which only deepened as she opened the door. His dark eyes looked her over and she knew that he knew about the web chatter. 

"What happened?" He asked, pulling his riding gloves and beanie off before reaching for her hand. Rolling her eyes, she tipped her chin towards the kitchen. "I have first aid stuff out."

Walking back to the supplies, Aria felt Jeffrey watching her closely but couldn't bring herself to look back. She felt stupid for feeling emotional about a bunch of no-name assholes saying terrible thing about her. It was ridiculous that she was even thinking about it, let alone being affected by. 

"Talk to me doll." He rasped next to her, his head cocking to the side to catch her eyes. 

Sighing, she pulled the paper towel away to show him her thumb. "I cut my thumb and burned my arm."

"Jesus." He grunted, reaching out to look her thumb over. "Doesn't need stitches, how bad's the burn?"

"Not the worst I've had."

Jeffrey looked at the red skin with a frown, finding a blister forming already. "Damn sweetheart. How'd this happen?"

 Aria hopped up on the counter, while Jeffrey sat in front of her on a stool. She watched him clean her finger first, his touch gentle as he put pressure of the spilt skin.

"I was being stupid."

Cocking an eyebrow in question, he continued wrapping her thumb. 

"I was just... distracted."

"Does this have anything to do with something on the internet?"

Huffing out a breath, she looked away from him and pursed her lips. Shrugging one shoulder, Aria muttered, "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter because it's upsetting you."

"It doesn't matter because I'm an adult. Sticks and stones and all that shit."

"Aria."

Hearing him say her name rather than a pet name, she returned her gaze and felt the stupid knot form in her throat again. She couldn't stop the blurring of her eyes. 

"Hey, hey, hey." He hushed, reaching forward to cup her jaw. "Oh sweetpea, fuck don't cry. You’re killin’ me."

Sniffing, she shook her head and whispered, "I'm not crying."

Laughing quietly, he brushed his thumbs below her eyes and showed her the obvious moisture. 

"Wanna keep lying to me doll?"

"Ugh." She groaned, pressing her forehead into his shoulder so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes when she confessed. "Fine I'm feeling... emotional about a bunch of mean girls."

Leaning back, he forced her eyes up to meet his. "You're allowed to feel emotional and upset about a bunch of jealous women saying mean shit about you. Fuck, do you think I haven't felt like shit after some movie reviewer calls me a hack or a type cast drone? I've drunk myself stupid on numerous occasions because of fucking jerkoffs not liking the way I play a pretend character."

"I know, I just..."

"You're not used to being under a microscope. I know darlin' and fuck if I could make it any other way for you, I fucking would. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, I hope you know that."

"I do and I appreciate that you would." Aria replied, her uninjured hand coming up to rest on his chest. "I'd do the same for you too, you know?"

"I do." He rasped, leaning down to kiss her softly, both of his large hands holding her face. "Let me see that burn and then get you home."

Rolling up her sleeve, Jeffrey gently washed the burn with a cool towel and then applied a burn gel. Wrapping it with gauze he finished it with a strip of medical tape and a soft kiss. Aria smirked at him as leaned forward to nuzzle into her chest, his large hands sliding up her thighs and hips to grasp her ass. 

Growling lowly, he dug his nose into collarbone. "I wanna taste you."

"Fuck." She gasped in surprise, her bottom lip screaming in pain as she bit down harshly. Jeffrey reached up and freed the poor thing and rasped, "Don't bite it off, it's my second favorite one."

"What's your first?" Aria moaned, as his hand slipped up her inner thigh. 

"Let me show you." He mumbled hoarsely while sucking on the soft spot below her jaw, his thumb rubbing her clit through her pants. 

"Jesus." 

Jeffrey quickly unbuttoned her chef coat while she kicked off her shoes and tugged her pants down. His warm, rough hands grasped her breasts through her worn tank top. "Fuck." He groaned as her nipple hardened below his palm. "Got the cutest fucking nipples." 

Aria giggled at the comment and ran her fingers through his hair. "Thank you."

"You're fucking welcome. Now lay the fuck back and spread my favorite lips. Let me make you cum on my tongue."

Aria dipped her head, her cheeks flushing dramatically. "Jeff."

Laughing deeply, his thumbs brushed together against her core, sliding through the slick folds. "Holy fuck." He grunted before biting her shoulder. "Shit. You're so wet. Lay back baby girl. I wanna taste you."

Stretching out, Aria squeaked as Jeffrey yanked her closer to the edge. His hands cupped her ass and raised her hips to his mouth as though licking his plate clean. 

"Oh my god." She gasped at the overwhelming sight alone. She could barely fire off enough neurons to compute the sensation of his thick tongue sweeping through her, curling around every surface, let alone the look on his face while doing it. 

Humming into her wet flesh, Jeffrey stared up at her with deeply hooded eyes, a hungry glint in the dark slits as she writhed against his mouth. Pulling back he panted onto her mound, "Are you gonna cum babydoll?"

"Yeah." She moaned as he dove back in with vigor. "Jeff."

"You're mine." He growled, sucking her clit in between his lips while slowly shaking his head. Aria snapped instantly, her body arching off the counter as her hands tugged Jeffrey's face closer to her clenching walls. 

"Jesus, holy shit." She panted, her chest heaving as he continued to suck and lick her clean. She combed her fingers through his hair and stroked his neck as he nuzzled into her thigh.

"Taste fucking awesome." He murmured, placing a soft kiss on her clit before unbuckling his pants. Aria watched as he pushed them down enough to expose himself before tugging her off the counter and into his lap. She slung her arms around his neck as he slowly lower her down his dick. 

Throwing her head back as he sunk inside, Aria squirmed in his lap as he began to slowly raise and lower her onto him. 

"Fuck." He groaned when she was flush against him, his hips thrusting up into her. "So damn tight."

"Jeff." She moaned, her mouth pressing open mouth kisses along his neck and shoulder. 

"Yeah sweetpea." He breathed, his heavy breath feeling moist on her neck. "You like riding my dick?"

"Yes. Fuck me harder."

Standing up, Jeffrey lay her back down on the counter and began plunging in between her spread legs. His large hands pinned her legs open, as his hips snapped forwards into her soaked entrance. The feral growls he was emitting while watching himself disappear into her, had Aria clawing at the slick metal surface. He was still partial dressed but she could see the cords of muscles in his arms flexing as he grasped her limbs and fucked her deep. 

"Fucking shit." He snarled as she squeezed him with her inner walls, the sensation causing him to swell even further. Moaning at the feeling of his throbbing head pulling a delicious friction from her, Aria continued to tilt her hips to meet his thrusts. 

"Come on baby girl." He panted, his hand sliding up her stomach to play with her tits. "So good. Such a good girl."

"Jeff." She gasped at the praise, her insides fluttering and mouth dropping open. 

"You like that hmm?" He rasped, his hand laying flat on her stomach as he continued to rock his hips into hers. His thumb began brushing back and forth over her clit as he spoke. "You're so fucking good baby. Fuck look at you taking my dick. You're goddamn precious."

"Fuck." She gasped, her hips flinching with every not so subtle brush of his thumb. "I'm gonna-."

"Yeah. Be a good. Cum for me baby girl. Fuck cum for daddy."

"Jeff."

"Say it. Be a good girl and say it."

"Please."

"Please. What?" He growled, his hips thrust into her hard as his thumb pushed down and rubbed tight circles. 

"Please daddy." She whined, her hips rising from the flat surface to feel him deeper. The growl he released echoed in the kitchen as he went full speed, his hips snapping hard in between her legs. Aria moaned deeply as the sensation of him rubbing her clit and burying himself as deep and as fast as he could, had her cumming instantly. 

"Motherfucker." He snarled, his large hands pulling her to the edge to plow through her first orgasm and push her into a second before releasing inside her with long pulses. His chest heaved as they recovered, his sweaty forehead pressing in between her breasts. 

"Jesus sweetpea." He rasped, his breathing heavy and tone exhausted. "Wearin' me out."

"I'm sorry old man. Am I too much for you?" She quipped with a giggle as he tickled her sides. 

"That's e-fucking-nough of that dollface." He growled. 

"Stop!" She squealed with laughter, squirming against the counter as he nuzzled into her neck. 

"Alright, alright I'll stop under one condition."

"What?" She gasped, her stomach twitching as his fingers slid along her ribs, soothing her. 

"You tell me the truth."

"I always do."

"Are you rethinking us now? Because of the stupid internet?"

Sighing, she asked, "Do you think I would ride your face if I was rethinking us?"

"I don't know, maybe. It'd be a nice going away present."

Snorting Aria sat up and began dressing. "True but I'd rather keep you around so I can ride it more."

Grinning at her, while tucking himself away and handing her clothing over. "I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? Jesus, I'm pretty sure it should be illegal."

  Jeffrey sat in bed next to Aria, who was fast asleep, her face tucked into his side. He could feel her warm breath on his ribs and her hair tickling his arm as he held her close. With his free hand he scrolled through twitter and read the latest posts about the woman he loved. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to react as they talked about the woman he loved. 

He wasn't sure what they wanted to accomplish but their group had grown in size and become more aggressive with their taunts. 

Sighing at the pictures of Aria they'd doctored and tagged, shots from the charity cook off used to harass her. Glancing down to see her still sleeping, Jeffrey slowly extracted himself and headed downstairs. He grabbed himself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through the photos he'd taken of Aria on his phone. 

Finding one of them together, his long arm taking a selfie as he kissed her temple. Her eyes were vibrant and lips quirked into a tiny pink smile. She was gorgeous and he loved her. He wasn’t going to hide that from anyone. 

Typing out a quick message, he tagged the photo and posted it without second guessing himself.  He wasn't going to sit around and let people treat his girlfriend, the woman that he was growing fairly certain would be his wife, badly. He was going to share with the world what a wonderful fucking person she was and they were going to have to fuck the fuck off. 

  "Oh my god. Did you see what he tagged that picture with?" Megan asked while Aria spoke with her the following evening. 

Rolling her eyes, Aria muttered, "How many times are you going to ask me that?"

"As many as it takes for you to understand what I'm saying."

"What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that handsome fucker is totally gonna ask you to marry him and you better say fucking yes because I have to be in the wedding party with all his handsome, famous friends. If I'm not maid of honor and walking down the aisle with Norman fucking Reedus, you're dead to me."

Snorting at her friend's insistence, Aria muttered, "It doesn't mean he's asking me."

"How can you not see that from his tag? I mean #loveofmylife #onlyone. How do you not read that to mean marriage?"

"It's just a fucking tag. He's not on one knee yet."

"He will be. I guarantee it. I bet when you come for my engagement party, he'll do it."

"He's not going to propose at your engagement party. That'd be weird." Aria scoffed, her eyes rolling hard in her head. 

"Not at it, dumbass. You'll be staying overnight in a cozy bed and breakfast. There will be a soft bed, probably some large tub filled with rose petals. Who wouldn't propose?"

"You're a nutjob Megs."

"One, what’s your fucking point? And two, what will you say?"

"Oh my god, stop."

"I'm serious." Megan sobered up, her tone softening. "I'm serious, if he asked, what would you say?"

Aria swallowed thickly and bit her lip in thought. If she were honest, she'd thought about it. The white dress and what Jeffrey would look like waiting for her at the end of some imaginary aisle. The images had her chest fluttering and cheeks heating. She wanted it badly but was too scared to voice it, until then. 

"Yes." She replied, the word sounding entirely too small of a reply but completely accurate. Aria would marry Jeffrey in a heartbeat. 

"I knew it!" Megan squealed, "I can't wait to walk down the aisle with Norman."

"Oh my god Megs, calm down. Besides you're getting married remember?" Aria laughed.

"So what? I can't enjoy a fucking stud muffin on my arm? Oh my god, I'll get to touch his arm!"

"Oh Jesus Christ. I gotta go Megs. You should go take a cold shower."

"Fuck that, I'm going to use it as spank bank material."

"Bye Megan."

"Okay, okay. Hey, seriously though, I'm happy for you. Jeff's amazing and you deserve someone like him, someone that shouts over the inter web rooftops that you're the love of his life."

"Thanks hooker."

"You're very welcome bitch."

Chapter Twenty Two here.

http://jesbakescookies.tumblr.com/post/163362693201/too-hot-to-handle-chapter-twenty-two

I started posting this fic over on AO3 also. I will probably post in both places since I’m still figuring out AO3 formatting etc.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates. I’ll try my best to remember!

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[emmagrace-frost-blog]

Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring

Name: Emma Grace Frost

Nickname: Em.

Reason for name: Seems like a natural progression from Emma but she wouldn’t tolerate something like Emmie

Birthday: October 3

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Place of birth: Boston, MA

Places lived since: Star City, CA, New York, Las Vegas, 

Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: Winston Frost (father; deceased);Hazel Frost (mother; deceased)

Number of siblings: 3 ( Adrienne Frost (deceased), Cordelia Frost and Christian Frost)

Relationship with family (close? estranged?): Her father was abusive, especially to her brother and did not care for her or her two sisters due to their telepathic powers. He did end up choosing Emma as an ‘heir to the fortune’ but she basically said go fuck yourself and left. So, not close with the parents. She was close with Adrienne and is really chewed up about her death, even still. Cordelia and Christian are estranged from her.

Happiest memory: Graduating from college on her own.

Childhood trauma: Her father’s abuse and mistreatment of her and her siblings.

Children of his/her own?: No.

PHYSICAL

Height: 5′10″

Weight: 144 lbs. but heavy as fuck, almost 500 lbs when she is in her diamond form.

Build: Tall and curvy.

Nationality: American

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): PTSD @ Genosha. [Note: it likely will not come up often but i promise to do research and not be a dick about a serious mental illness. My sister suffers from PTSD and it’s not to be made light of, so message me if you have any concerns about its portrayal, please <3]

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birth marks): Emma is pale in the winter but has no problem tanning. She has dark freckles here and there, one on her neck, a few on her back and shoulders, a couple on her hips and thighs and during the summer she gets a smattering of little freckles across her nose and cheeks that she hates.

Face shape: heart.

Distinguishing facial features: slightly crooked nose from when she broke it when she was 13, don’t bring it up she will fight you. Pouty lips.

Hair color: naturally blonde but has been dying it brown.

Usual hair style: down in soft curls.

Eye color: Green

Glasses? Contacts?: Both. Always wears contacts except at night.

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Always to the nines. She is always put together and always showing a little something. She follows the Chanel rule of always taking one thing off before leaving the house, that being said an outfit isn’t complete without good shoes and a better purse. But she lives in sweat pants at her house.

Typical style of shoes: heels, usually. A casual pair of dressy sandals if she is being “casual”

Health (is this person usually sick? or very resilient?): Emma doesn’t get sick often but when she does it’s a doozy.

Grooming (does she/he wear makeup? shower daily? wear only clean clothes? pluck her eyebrows?): Emma showers every night, she always wears make up but goes for a natural look, she likes to cover her freckles and make her eyebrows look murderous. She likes a nude lip and some brown eye shadow. She is meticulous about her grooming and facial routine. Gotta fight those wrinkles. SHe gets frequent facials and gets her nails done.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: earrings, necklace, an old ring of Adrienne’s she stole a long time ago and now treasures. 

Accent?: Slightly northern american.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits (bites nails, talks with hands, taps feet when restless): Emma clenches her jaw when stressed, spins the ring she always wears, sometimes she focuses on shifting each finger from flesh to diamond when she is bored.

Athletic?: She runs, but likes pasta.

INTELLECT

Level of education (high school drop out, undergrad BA/BS, PhD, MD, etc.): She started off as a sub par student much to her parents dismay, but ended up with an MA in literature.

Level of self esteem: Emma is very confident in her appearance. She knows she is beautiful and often plays to it. But is pretty convinced she is a garbage human and knows that beauty doesn’t always last and she’s headed nowhere fast. So -- confident she is hot, cripplingly insecure  in herself as a human (mutant).

Gifts/talents: She can turn into diamond which makes her very resilient, she can read people’s minds, project things into their minds and she has some ability for telekinesis but she is weaker there.

Shortcomings: Insecure, petty, shallow.

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): curses a lot.

“Left brain” or “right brain” thinker?: little bit of both i would say. Emma is pretty calculated most of the time but does have a habit of letting her emotions rile her up.

Artistic?: she was trained to play classical piano and violin by her rich family growing up, so a little.

Mathematical?: Not very.

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: She wants to say logic always but -- like 60% emotions 40% logic.

Neuroses: cleanliness is next to godliness.

Life philosophy: Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. -- Marilyn Monroe

Religious stance: her family was religious but she is not.

Cautious or daring?: Depends on the situation. Cautious with herself and her feelings usual, daring if she has to be.

Most sensitive about/vulnerable to: being turned away for who she is, mutant and all that.

Optimist or pessimist?: Realist.

Extrovert or introvert?: in the middle she likes to be the center of attention but likes to be a shut in too.

Level of comfort with technology: Competent and uses it often. 8/10? She can’t hack or anything but can use social media and a computer/phone/tablet without trouble.

RELATIONSHIPS

Current marital/relationship status: single

Sexual orientation: bisexual

Past relationships: define relationship? Emma isn’t really a relationship kinda gal. She’s very good at loving them and leaving them. She had one serious relationship and after he found out she was a mutant, after she changed into her diamond form to save his life, he left her.

Primary reason for being broken up with: because she was a mutant.

Primary reasons for breaking up with people: She’s not trying to be vulnerable about anything, ever. 

Level of sexual experience: experienced. 

Story of first kiss (if any—if not, how does he/she want it to happen?): When Emma was 14 some boy on her block was making fun of her and called her a frigid bitch, so she kissed him to get him to shut up. When he was all stunned she told him being rude wasn’t the way to get things he clearly desired.

Story of loss of virginity (if any—if not, how does he/she want it to happen, if at all?): It wasn’t magical, she had sex with some guy in high school, then avoided him hard. He trailed after her all love struck.

A social person? (popular, loner, some close friends, makes friends and then quickly drops them): Emma is what Emma is which most find to be pretty infuriating even the ones who like her or tolerate her. But she cares for the people she cares about so her circle is small but she’d do anything for them. She’s tough to like though.

Most comfortable around (person): Erik Lehnsherr (ew), Jean Grey

Oldest friend: Erik Lehnsherr, Professor x, Jean Grey, Mystique

How does he/she think others perceive him/her?: Stuck up non-feeling cunt, shallow, thoughtless, airhead?

How do others actually perceive him/her?: Stuck up non-feeling cunt, shallow, smart, cunning asshole.

VOCATION

Profession: Women’s literature professor

Past occupations: Teacher, henchman, leader of the nefarious.

Passions: reading, cooking french cuisine, learning languages, piano, good wine.

Attitude towards current job: She likes it because she gets to read a lot and hopefully influence kids that felt lost like she did but found a home in education.

Attitude towards current coworkers, bosses, employees: She can’t be bothered with most of them, but doesn’t have a big issue with them either.

Salary: $75,000 a year but she inherited a lot of money when her folks died.

SECRETS

Phobias:  Athazagoraphobia: the fear of being forgotten or left behind.

Life goals: peace for mutant and human kind. Maybe a picket fence and kids and someone who thinks she hung the stars and moon, but she wouldn’t tell you that.

Dreams: Same as the goals.

Greatest fears: Having lived a life Adrienne would be disappointed in.

Most ashamed of: spending her time pretending she is something she is not.

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her: Emma is hard to embarrass, but when she was young she had a hard time in public speaking and she lost her concentration and started repeating the words she was hearing in someone’s head and it was some steamy details about the teacher and how that student wished she were naked.

Obsessions: lipstick, shoes, wine.

Secret hobbies: piano playing, doing the NYT crossword.

Secret skills: piano playing making a bomb-ass quiche.

Crimes committed (and was he/she caught? charged?): Like -- so many. Murder, theft, defacing things, assault, carrying a deadly weapon, like probably espionage. and no never caught or charged.

What he/she most wants to change about his/her current life: She wants to be proudly out and mutant and not give a fuck about the current state of where she lives.

What he/she most wants to change about his/her physical appearance: She’s pretty chill with that, she wishes her nose was straight again, but not enough to get surgery.

DETAILS/QUIRKS

Daily routine: Get up, take her hair out of a bun, moisturize, brush teeth, make coffee, shake her ass to some music while she puts on make up, gets dressed, pours coffee, heads out.

Night owl or early bird?: night owl.

Light or heavy sleeper?: light sleeper. She needs music or white noise to sleep.

Favorite food: sushi or handmade pasta.

Least favorite food: lima beans.

Favorite book: Where the Wild Things Are.

Least favorite book: The Grapes of Wrath. How are you going to write a. whole chapter about a fucking turtle stuck on its back as an allegory for the times economically speaking. Get over yourself.

Favorite movie: Amelie

Least favorite movie: Titanic.

Favorite song: Don’t make her choose.

Least favorite song: Never going to give you up - Rick Astley

Coffee or tea?: Both.

Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?: smooth

Type of car he/she drives (or wishes he/she drove): white infinity

Lefty or righty?: lefty

Favorite color: white/blue

Cusser?: fuck yes.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: smokes a little, drinks a lot.

Biggest regret: not telling Adrienne how much it meant having a sister like her around.

Pets?: glacé, a japanese spitz.

[shonbellenoire]

Have you ever had a Sensual Massage?

Self care has always and will always be very important to me.  Its a non negotiable necessity that I work hard to maintain.   I shop minimal and take trips occasionally but month maintenance...no one does it better.  Nails, facials, massage, hair, wax and my signature henna.  High maintenance as fuck but I work hard as fuck and I am determined to enjoy some of my damn money.  I wasn't born to work, pay bills and die.  I'm going to enjoy some of these coins one way or another.  Which brings me to.......Mr. Marcus.  Honestly now that I think of it idk if that's even his name.

My past attempts to find a new masseuse has been one for the books!  I had a great lesbian girl half my size that massaged my booty so well I was tempted to switch sides.  I fell in love with her professionalism and attention to details (ie my curves), she was not afraid to touch my body and have her way with me.  I get nothing less then 90-60 min massage.  She up and quit one day and I became the managers new client.  An older black lady that had experience and was exceptional as well.  Though after one too many discounts and arriving 10 min late I suspect she fired me as a client.  Fuck it matters if I'm 10 min late you still get paid for the full hour and it aint like you giving that 10 min back. Which brings me to clientele.  I swear I need to give seminars on proper customer service and the importance of maintaining clientele.  I'm the client that comes back often.  Not sometimes, rarely or occasionally....often!  I'm for sure a cell bill or utility bill and I'm always good for it.  I'm the client that refers.  I'm the client that tips.  I'm the client you never wanna lose.  

So unwillingly I took my talents to South Beach or South Korea and went to the Asians.  The facility was amazing, customer service was great however the talent wasn't as grand.  Too scared to touch this chocolate beauty.  I tried it 2x with a guy and a girl and they just didn't cut it for the price I paid nor the service I'm use to.  I had a white guy that gripped this ass like he owned it and rubbed my feet like he loved me but he was too pricey. 

But Mr. Marcus....now he's something right out of a Zane novel or Porn Hub either way I'm hooked.  I found him like I do most things, on social media looking for a massage therapist with great reviews.  Mr. Marcus is chocolate with waves that B straight BUSSIn!  I be straight swimming while he rock my boat making a bitch sea sick.  I love well groomed men.  Hell, I'm a well maintained gal.  Aside from his mocha skin and well moisturized waves, he was short and bite sized, slightly muscular (whatever that is) and....cute....in a if i was drunk I might try. I could tell that he had a lot of women clientele, which I figured was more to do with him being a male as opposed to the service he gives.  

You may have seen videos on social media of oiled up muscular men giving very intimate massages to women. However Mr. Marcus gives a normal deep tissue massage as well as his "Signature 90 Massage".  Now granted based on his social media and how he presented himself I thought he was charming and professional.  His brand didn't scream sexy sensual massage.  It said hey, I'm a charming young man you wouldn't mind massaging your body.  

So I show up.  "Get undressed to comfort," he says.  I ain't no rookie so balls to the wall and pussy all out.  Freshly waxed and lashes done (which I wish I hadn't), bubbly brown hopped on that table ready to unwind and potentially fall asleep.  The room is smaller than I'm use to and filled with them fuck boy lights.  You know them colorful ass lights fuck boys use to make you look like you in some romance comedy on Netflix in a poor attempt to be romantic.  FYI I like candles nigga! .....and fuck boy lights but we can't have one with the other.  Then the music played.  Now hold the fuck up.  What kinda ghetto massage is this?  Is this Marsha Ambitious Ambrosius?  WTF??  See this is why.......

It was at this moment he touched me and was ready to begin. I told him I was hot and he placed a fan under the sheet to help me cool down.  "Better?"  ...yea I was better and eager to get this started.  Starting face down he began on my shoulders.  The massage for the next 15 was going well and per usual...playlist still on Jasmine Sullivan and the R&B crew.  The type of music some wouldn't mind fucking too.  When it was over I told him to add more eggplant to his playlist.  A hood classy bitch like me wanna come to (relax to) Trey Songz and other fuck boy martyrs.  Not Marsha, the fuck.   After the 15 min is when the normal massage turned....sensual.  It wasn't long until my entire ass crack was uncovered and his hands literally holding one butt check in his hands giving it all the TLC a bitch needed.  See my pussy currently has cob webs on it and tho this freshly wax pussy is well maintained, I believe it is broken.  It aint poppin for nobody! Its been so long surely I'm virgin.  Nothing makes me drip like water, the pipes is busted like most of these niggas in these ATL streetz.  "Done Done Dem ALLLL" Shawty Lo voice.  Well not all just enough to know I don't need to try no more.  Needless to say Mr. Marcus was a plumber that day cuz them sheets....got a little moist and it wasn't sweat.  Idk when and how but this bite sized nigga jumped his ninja ass on top of me using his body weight to like press into my legs.  Now Madame Godiva is all of barely 5'7.8 and I guess he needed to mount this stallion to get the cranks out.  Little nigga had his entire body on me.  All 5'3 of it and I was here for it. 45 min into my 90 min massage my legs where in the are damn near at my ears with my bare pussy all the way out lol.  Shit he was wit and so was I!  Just a few inches away from my pussy lips, I just knew this niggas was going to devour me like a GA peach.  But to my disappointment..... he moved to my feet. 

He touched every part of my body!  Every part but my nipples.  He literally massaged around my breast..both of them.  Once again teasing me looking like he was about to devour one in his mouth...but he moved to my hands.  gripping my hands, griping my fingers whispering....relax.  It was quite an experience.  He catered to me like a boyfriend on Valentines Day.  Very intimate and sensual.  Between the music, fuck boy lights, my bare pussy and ass exposed....I'm sure by now he knows we go together.  I mean at this point we have to.  I've never in all 5 of my bougie years had a massage like this.  This was not your average massage, this was a sensual massage that could get you cussed out by yo man if HE EVAAA found out.  But it was so damn good.  So good.  I need to be touched like that, everyday.

I started to wonder....is he single? Ain’t no fucking Sam way in hell I’d Eva let my nigga be getting paid to fill up on bitches! He better serve cocaine like the rest of the fuck boys cuz massaging ass is a non negotiable! The fuck!  Like fun size Snickers are you married cuz this is totally inappropriate and completely our lil secret.  I kept wondering if he was impressed with my wax or how soft my skin was.  I did a sugar scrub the night before.  I’m considerate I make sure the canvas is smooth as butter.

Very professional...I mean he didn't put his mouth on me though based how well he took care of my body with his hands....I'm curious what that mouth do!  Aside from the sensual stuff he could tell my body was extremely stiff. Cracked a few bones in back and hip that felt sooooo good.  He did an amazing job.  However.... he is on the verge of losing his licence and possibly getting the cops called on him.  I had no clue a “Signature Massage” was a sexy massage my pussy type of thing.  I still would of signed up for it but I had no clue!  That’s the biggest disappointment.  I mean not knowing he’d be seeing my full bare pussy.   Is it September yet?