#and tennis ball green (yellow?) eyes

[golftimex3]

Mrrreow ?

[thatone-girly]

K.R.E.A.M V.1

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Cherish Henry (OC)

SUMMARY: In the first chapter, we are introduced to the vibrant and bustling atmosphere of Roman Reigns' elite Las Vegas strip club. Roman, a commanding presence with a reputation for being both ruthless and charming, oversees the night’s performances with a keen eye. Among the dancers, Cherish stands out, captivating the audience with her grace and allure. Roman, usually detached, finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. He observes her from afar, intrigued by her mysterious aura and exceptional talent. Roman's interest is piqued, setting the stage for a slow-burning romance that promises to unfold with complexity and depth.

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

Authors Note: If you’d like to be added to the taglist, comment and let me know! Also, go check out this Roman x Stripper fic by @overrboarrd ! It’s hella good and it inspired me to get my lazy ass up and finish this since it’s been sitting in drafts for 7 months.

Red Lights.

There were so many red lights.

In the bustling streets of Las Vegas, there were lights everywhere. Blue, Green, Yellow, and Orange. But there weren’t nearly as many red lights on the streets as there were in Oasis Écarlate, French for ‘Scarlet Oasis’.

In the lounge of the club under the many vermillion lights, there were men scattered all over.

Surrounding the stage, there were the usual bums who popped up every other night. If not, every night. Those were the ones who only had twenty to one hundred dollars to throw, then had the nerve to ask for a private dance. The ones who would pick money up off the floor and throw it to look like they had more money, or just stuff it in their pocket and take it home for themselves. The ones who’d come in and get hammered over a silly argument with their girlfriend, or sometimes wives. The ones who’d come in the club in a dingy t-shirt, baggy jeans, and beat up tennis shoes.

Sitting at the intimately decorated tables scattered across the open floor were the middle class men. The ones who threw just enough to not damage their credit score. The ones who’d lend a few dollars to whatever vagrant had run out of money and could no longer ‘ball out’. The ones who’d never come in alone, either with a friend, or sometimes even their girlfriend. The ones who’d sometimes get private dances depending on how much they’d drank, or how a certain dancer made them feel. The ones who were always decently dressed, normally in a nice button down, or snug turtleneck.

Lounging clad at the booths along the walls were what the dancers liked to call ‘The Big Ballers’. Those were the ones the dancers payed special attention to and were always guaranteed to get a large payday from. The ones who couldn’t care less about how much money they spent because it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account. The ones who never associated themselves with the scrubs indulged in the hypnotic movements of dancers they’d never get to see outside of the club. The ones who bought out the V.I.P sections, the private lounges, and the sky boxes above everyone. The ones who’d outbid any and everyone on the club just to get the dancer they wanted to entertain them and their entourage.

However, no matter how much money they had or how much money they put down, there was one man that could come through and shut everything down. If he wanted your table, with the snap of a finger, he’d have it. If he wanted your private lounge, your V.I.P section, with the snap of a finger, he’d have it. He didn’t have to worry about the sky boxes. There was one sky box, the biggest one of them all, smack dead in the middle reserved for him. He had a perfect view of everyone. He could look down at the bums, the basics, and the ballers. He could look down at the stage and watch every single one of his dancers grace the pole with her alluring presence. Though he rarely, if ever did it, he could have his pick of any dancer he wanted. The man who was feared and respected not only in the club, but all of Las Vegas.

That man was Roman Reigns.

The 35 year old, whose real name was Joe Anoa’i, had ruled his club with an iron fist. Having taken ownership from his father, Roman took the running of his club seriously. Once his father stepped down from his position as CEO, the club went into a downward spiral. Clientele was low. No one wanted to visit anymore, no one was interested in the aging, washed up dancers his father refused to get rid of. Hell, even the scrubs stayed away. When Roman took over, all of that went out the window. He did a full rebrand. He had the club renovated from top to bottom. He changed the layout, the lights, the stage, everything. He fired everyone and started from the ground up with staff. He sent his cousins out to rival businesses to recruit dancers for the new and improved club. Due to that, he made enemies out of a vast number of club owners, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Now, some of the best dancers in the city belonged to his club.

Those very dancers were in the dressing room of Oasis Écarlate. As of now, it was intermission. The beaming LED lights were white, an obvious contrast to their usual crimson color. The sea of men below the stage talked amongst each other, some lended the other money, some recreantly slid money their way with their foot, and some made their way over to the bar while they awaited the next dance of the night.

The dressing room was a sanctuary of muted chaos, a stark contrast to the pulsating energy of the club beyond its doors. Makeup palettes, hair products, and costumes were scattered across the vanity tables, each an essential tool for the night's transformations. Amidst the flurry of preparation, Cherish sat quietly, a calm island in the sea of activity. Her reflection in the mirror was one of serene beauty. Her long, ginger hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, and her eyes, deep and expressive, held a world of stories untold. She pushed her lips together, smoothing out any lipstick that hadn’t been before.

“Cherish, you up next?”

She looked in the reflection in front of her, locking eyes with Serena. With a sigh Cherish answered, “Yep.”

Serena was one of the few girls Cherish could tolerate. She and Serena were much alike. They both weren’t fans of drama, yet they took no shit. They enjoyed the same shows, hobbies, hell, they even shared some of the same regular clients. They both weren’t interested in the extra malarkey of the strip club scene. They came in, did their job, got their money, and left.

Like clockwork, the voice of Pat McAfee, otherwise known as simply Pat, boomed through the stereo of the club. Cherish stood from her spot at the vanity, doing one more once over on herself. She made sure her hair was smooth and kinkless, running her fingers through her bundles one last time. Her one piece Versace set, blinged out with crystals was bright enough to catch the eye of even the most uninterested being in the club. A huff left her lips as she made her way towards the door.

“Good luck, Cherry.”, Serena wished, also taking it upon herself to leave Cherish a good luck pat on the ass.

Cherish looked at Serena over her shoulder and gave her a wink before she walked through the string of crimson beads hanging from the door frame. She kept her confident stride up until she reached the curtain. The voice of Pat was smooth and sultry, a huge contrast to his usual hyped demeanor when he was not working as he introduced, “Gentlemen, please give a very warm, wet welcome to La Séduisante Dame Chérit.”

The Seductive Lady Cherish.

That’s what she was known as in the Scarlet Oasis.

The song that began to flow through the speakers was her song.

“Seduction”, by none other than Usher Raymond.

When that song began to play, everyone knew who was hitting the stage. Even if you didn’t know her by name, you knew who she was by that song.

Including the boss.

The heavy bass of the music thrummed through the club, vibrating the very air as Cherish made her way to the center of the stage. The lights dimmed, casting a sultry glow over the room. She took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation of the crowd wash over her like a wave. This was her moment.

Immediately, he was focused. Focused on the way she walked and moved. The scowl on his face neither softened nor hardened, but it stuck. His hands remained clasped together in the center of his manspread legs. He didn’t move, but his eyes? Oh, they moved. They followed her everywhere.

As the spotlight hit her, Cherish began to move, her body flowing with the rhythm. Every step, every sway of her hips was calculated to captivate and seduce. Her eyes scanned the audience, locking onto different faces, making each person feel like she was dancing just for them. As she moved across the stage effortlessly and suavely, her freshly installed burnt orange hair flowing almost cinematically as her body swayed to the slow, seductive beat of the music. She tried not to chuckle at the usual bums who didn’t have a dime to throw as their mouths became glued to the ground.

She moved with grace and power, her movements fluid and mesmerizing. The crowd watched in rapt attention, their cheers and applause melding with the music. She could feel their energy, their desire, fueling her performance. Her routine was a perfect blend of artistry and allure, each move telling a story. As she executed a series of spins and bends, her hair cascaded around her like a waterfall, adding to the visual feast. She was in complete control, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

She worked her way up the slim metal cylinder, climbing upward and onward until she reached the bright blood red lights of the ceiling. She tuned out the usual catcalls, whistling, and sweet nothings as she spun around at the very top of the pole, letting nothing be heard except the music. She listened to the lyrics. So did he.

Seduction

She split her legs open, beginning her slow, hypnotic descend to the ground.

Sensuous, Sexy, Erotic. How You Workin’ Your Body

The lyrics went perfectly with the scene, her legs which were once split in the air now in a perfect split on the ground. Her movements were hypnotizing and intriguing, that being made obvious by the way the men in smooth, steamed suits slid from their positions at their booths and moved up to the stage for a closer look at the gyrating woman.

Still, there was no display of interest whatsoever from Roman. He did nothing but watch.

He watched the stage with a keen eye, his powerful presence commanding the room even in silence. The VIP area provided a perfect view of the performance below, allowing him to oversee everything without interruption. Jey and Jimmy flanked him, their expressions mirroring his intense focus.

The way she commanded the stage, the energy she exuded – it was magnetic. He could see the raw talent and passion in her performance, something that set her apart from the other dancers.

Breaking the silence in the room, Jey snapped his fingers, “That one right there! That’s my favorite one.”

His brother Jimmy scoffed, “Shit, I thought my favorite was Bambi, but after seeing this one, I think I changed my mind.” They could sense her confidence, the way she owned the stage from the moment she set foot on it. The bass of the music thrummed through the floor, the vibrations a tangible reminder of the energy she was channeling. “She got the crowd eating out of the palm of her hands.”

Another wave of silence took over as the twins sat mesmerized. Once again, the silence was broken by Jey as he swatted Roman’s upper arm with the back of his hand asking, “Hey, man, you know what her name is?”

Smacking his lips, Jimmy looked over to his brother. “Her name is in her stage name, Uce. It’s Cherish.”

“Well, hell, I don’t know French!”, Jey scowled over at Jimmy, “And how the hell do you know?”

Swooping his hand down to his lap, Jimmy picked up his phone and flipped the screen in the direction of Jey. Displayed brightly was the Apple translator app, set on the French setting. “Translator. Keep up with the game, man.”

Ignoring the childish spat that started with Jey’s response, Roman kept his eyes on the scene below him, watching as Cherish slowly descend to her knees. On all fours, she crawled up to a crowd of men that stood at the right wing of the stage. Roman could see the way she fed off their energy, using it to drive her performance to even greater heights. He appreciated her dedication, the way she pushed herself to excel in every aspect of her routine.

The end of the song nearing, Cherish wrapped up her act with her signature kiss to the cheek of a random club-goer. Usually, it was one of the ones she knew would tip well, and maybe even ask for a private dance; and tonight was no different as she crawled up to the man with the cleanest suit, wrapped her manicured hands around the collar of his blazer and pulled him in to plant a firm kiss on his cheek. It was perfectly timed, the song coming to an end as soon as she pulled away, her lipstick leaving the print of her lips on the man’s cheekbone.

At the sound of whistles, applause, and catcalls, she stood to her feet and strutted her way behind the curtain, immediately dropping her act when the drapes closed. She made her way back to the dressing room, her feet aching with a terrible throb from the high heels she’d chosen for the night. Walking through the beaded curtains, she was met with all of the other dancers fixing themselves. Cherish was the last dance, and after the final act, all of the dancers went out and walked around the club, just waiting to see who wanted a private dance until the club closed at 2.

Plopping on the stool next to Serena, Cherish sighed of exhaustion. “Girl, I’m so ready to go home.”, she mumbled as she reached to grab her lipstick. “Tonight’s kind of boring.”

From across the room, two dancers, Bambi and Freddi, whose real names were Chelsea and Freeda, giggled amongst themselves. Something as simple as them laughing made Cherish and Serena exchange looks of mutual annoyance. They couldn’t stand those two. Really, no one could, but the pure disdain Cherish and Serena had for Bambi and Freddi was on another level.

The two duos were total opposites. While Cherish and Serena preferred to stay away from the nightclub life outside of dancing, Bambi and Freddi were all in with it. They partied all day and night, drank like unemployed 45-year old divorcee’s, and even dabbled in drugs here and there. The women felt like they were better than any and everybody, often criticizing other dancers on things they themselves couldn’t or didn’t do. On top of that, they were the messiest performers in the locker room. Most of, if not all of the locker room drama came at their hands, whether it was rumors, the airing out of someone’s business, or unnecessary comments and criticism, those two had a knack for pissing people off.

Ignoring the two women, Serena commented, “Yeah, tonight’s been pretty slow”, she agreed, “but, girl! You knocked ‘em down out there! I was watching from behind the curtain.”

Again, giggles erupted from Bambi and Freddi, only this time louder. Serena glanced back at the two, while Cherish opted to just ignore them. She was not in the mood for their bullshit. Not tonight. With a roll of her eyes, Serena turned back to face the white vanity she and Cherish shared. “They better not start their shit.”, she mumbled with a huff, “I’m in the mood to whoop some ass tonight.”

Cherish said nothing, deciding to not even entertain them a bit. Instead, she slid her lipstick across her lips, touching it up after her finale. “I’m not worried about them.”, she mumbled in the midst of applying the smooth paint to her lips. “They ain’t worth my time or my energy.”

At her declaration, Bambi mumbled a faint ‘bitch’ before she and Freddi burst into laughter. They weren’t giggling anymore. They were full blown cackling. With a huff, Serena turned on her stool to face the two women who stood doubled over in laughter in the corner.

“Y’all wanna tell me what’s so funny?”, she question, her tone hostile and annoyed. At this, the room grew dead silent as the other dancers stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Serena. Some of them were being messy, while others were hoping nothing went down and got too serious. There had been one too many fights in this locker room, and none of them wanted to be the ones to clean up the aftermath. “I wanna know what the joke is. What are we laughing at?”

Bambi and Freddi were silent as they exchanged looks, mocking grins spread on their faces. “Oh, what, we’re not laughing anymore? Joke’s over?”, Serena asked with a sarcastic smile and tilt of her head.

“Chill, girl. We were just talking about one of Bambi’s clients.”, Freddi chuckled, the gum she was chewing making obnoxiously loud smacking sounds between her words.

“Oh, really? You sure?”, Serena quipped, her tone shifting to one you’d use when speaking to a child, “I find it real coincidental that y’all get to the funny part of the story every time me or Cherry says something. So y’all sure we’re not the joke? Y’all sure it ain’t one of us being funny and we don’t know?”

“Girl, relax. We just said we’re not laughing at y’all.”, Bambi put in her two cents, accompanying her words with an eye roll.

Preparing to stand up from her stool, Serena placed her brush on the vanity, but Cherish quickly grabbed her wrist before she could. “It’s fine, ‘Rena. I’m not worried about them, you shouldn’t worry about them either.”, she mumbled.

With a deep breath, Serena shot the two one last look before turning back around to face the mirror. “Can’t stand those bitches, I swear.”, she murmured before picking up her hairbrush.

Everyone went back to their business, some girls in various stages of changing, and chatting animatedly about their performances and the possible tips they could get from certain men. The rustling of the beads adorning the doorway of the dressing room pulled everyone’s attention away from whatever it was they were doing as the presence of the 6’3 Samoan they called their boss commanded the room. The sound of throats clearing and rustling clothes of women fixing their appearances overtook the silence as Roman stood flanked by his cousins. Everyone seemed to be so enamored by his presence, except Cherish. She kept her eyes on the makeup palette below her.

“Ladies,” Romans baritone voice resonated, commanding immediate attention. As if he didn’t have that already. “Great job tonight. I want you all to keep it up. Remember, I’m always watching.”

A few of the women had to stop themselves from squealing. He did something to them that they couldn’t explain. Cherish knew as soon as he stepped out of the room, they’d be gushing and cooing about his appearance. She rolled her eyes at the thought. She didn’t understand it. Sure, he was an attractive man. But the thought of lusting after her boss was a strange concept. She’d prefer not to.

He must’ve sensed her thoughts, because the next thing out of his mouth startled her.

“Cherish.”

It was simple. It was only her name, but something about it made her shoulders jump slightly. She looked up at him through her vanity mirror, her lashes fanning her face through her blinks. “Good performance. You got a lot of compliments.”

Forcing a small smile, she nodded in acknowledgment before looking back down at her makeup. His face holding his signature scowl, his gaze lingered on her a bit longer than anyone had expected. Even Cherish. She looked up once more, locking eyes with him through the mirror wondering why he was staring at her. Maybe it was her lack of response. Or maybe he could sense her sour mood. Whatever it was, it made her nervous for whatever reason.

Finally looking away from her, his eyes looked over the other dancers. Scowl deepening at the sight of Bambi mugging the back of Cherish’s head, he stood still. He watched as she leaned over to whisper something to Freddi, who found what she said extremely funny by the way she covered her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. Deciding that whatever was going on between them should be kept between them until it was brought to his attention by one of the parties involved, he turned to exit the room. He walked first, Jimmy and Jey following behind him.

“Sooo, Cherish is the only one that did a good job?”, Bambi asked bitterly.

Collective eye rolls from dancers didn’t go unnoticed by Bambi, but she paid them no mind. Cherish returned the favor by giving her no reaction, but Roman stopped in his tracks. His halt caused all eyes to be back on him and Bambi, everyone, including Cherish, watching as he slowly walked backwards into the room before turning to face her. “Is there a problem, Chelsea?”

Swallowing hard, she looked around the room as if waiting for someone to come to her defense. That didn’t happen, obviously, so now she had to fend for herself. “Well…you only told Cherish good job. Did nobody else have a good performance?”

Folding his hands in front of him, his shoulders bounced with his chuckle as he took a step towards her. “Jey,” he called out to his cousin who stood behind him, “Please, tell me. When I came in here, what did I say?”

“You told everybody great job.”, he answered, his eyes on Bambi with the look of a child watching their sibling get in trouble.

“Right. I told everybody great job.”, he scowled in her direction. “I gave Cherish an additional compliment because she got the most compliments from customers. Is that a problem?”

He took another step towards her, his intimidating gaze staying on her. Taking a step back, Bambi shook her head. “You sure? You seemed pretty bothered. Is there anything else you want me to break down to you?”, his tone was similar to the one Serena used with her earlier. Gentle, as if talking to a child, but firm and intimidating.

With another shake of her head, Bambi looked down at her white painted toes adorned by her pink heels. Looking around the room, Roman questioned, “Anybody else have anything to say?” Being met with silence, he nodded. “Alright. Finish up getting ready. Y’all have an hour and thirty left to work. Also, be here about an hour early tomorrow. I want to have a meeting with you all in the conference room.”

With one last glance around the room, his eyes landed on Cherish’s vanity one last time. Shifting in her seat under his gaze, Cherish looked back down at her lap before picking up her hairbrush to brush out her hair. Finally turning, Roman and the twins exited the room. The room erupted in chatter, some gushing over their boss as Cherish expected, some lowkey clowning Bambi, and some complaining about losing a few extra minutes of sleep by having to be here earlier the next day.

Being nudged by Serena, Cherish looked up. The expression she held confused Cherish, although she had an idea of what she was going to say. “Girl! Did you see how he was looking at you?”, Serena exclaimed, nudging Cherish once more.

Rolling her eyes, Cherish couldn’t fight the small grin that appeared on her face. Why the hell was she smiling? “Don’t start, ‘Rena.”, she shook her head.

Kissing her teeth, Serena tilted her head, “Start what? You know you saw that!”

Shaking her head once more, Cherish stood from her stool. “Girl, stop being delusional and come on. We have to be back out there in two minutes.” Doing one more once over of herself in the mirror, Cherish ran her fingers through her hair. She didn’t want to think too much about what just happened, especially when all he did was look at her.

“Alright, you just wait. You’re gonna see that he likes you. Mark my words.”

[sssammich]

cyborg alien + scientist AU

just gonna drop this bit and go

--

Lena doesn't look up from her work desk when the handle of her door turns followed by the thudding footsteps that beeline for her, the sound growing louder with each step. Instead, she takes her time fiddling with the final bits of solder at the tip of her iron, investigating her handiwork through the large magnifying glass perched between her and her desk. Her movements are steady, at ease, even though her visitor has been standing by the doorway for close to almost five minutes now.

When she eventually deems her work adequate, she stops. She takes her safety goggles off, folding them and placing them in the breast pocket of her fraying lab coat. She pulls the ventilator mask down, unbuckling it from the back of her head, her cheeks exposed to the barely cool air. She brushes the back of her knuckle on her face, noticing the indentations of where the mask had kissed her skin. She curls her fingers until they make a fist before extending them, her joints aching and popping as she stretches her hands.

All the while, she pays her visitor no mind, her green eyes scanning her workspace and the monitor at the corner of her desk. Her visitor makes no noise, raises no complaints, simply exists somewhere behind her. It's not until the old cuckoo clock—bright springtime carnation yellow and baby blue hues of a pastoral relic so mismatched with the dullness and coldness of the wires and gadgets and tools scattered in her office—jumps out of its window to signal that it's the top of the hour that she finally glances over her shoulder.

Standing just in front of Lena's bookshelf full of haphazardly shelved research notes and half-abandoned projects is her visitor, a woman, with messy blonde hair that stops by the lobes of her ears, highlighting perfectly sunkissed skin. Her shoulders squared and her hands held behind her back, her body standing at attention. Truly a product of the military, Lena notes.

The only difference, of course, is the focus of oceanic blue eyes on Lena paired with a small but radiant smile etched on the woman's face, a smile directed right at her. A smile that her visitor flashes at her during every visit. If Lena didn't know any better, she might think her visitor was doing it intentionally.

"Hello, Dr. Luthor."

"You're late." Lena looks away, wheeling her office stool towards some metal drawers, one foot atop the casters, the other planted on the concrete floor, controlling her speed.

Her visitor huffs before striding towards the only other seating in her office, a metal folding chair with paint chipping off, and sitting on it backwards so her front pressed up against the backing of the seat. "I got held up."

"You're always held up," she retorts, the very same words echoing what she'd said when her visitor had shown up in her office for the first time, a gash across her face before Lena patched her up.

"Blame the war. Otherwise, I'd be here on time."

Her visitor unbuttons her shirt revealing the vast expanse of her back, littered with intersecting silver lines of intricate circuitry that are visibly more apparent up close, each and every one following the various paths of her body's muscles. This time, there is a darkened and jagged crater about the diameter of a tennis ball just left of center of the spine. Lena's index finger traces the crater, her mouth slanted in a frown. She can tell that it's begun the healing process, though if her visitor is here, then that must mean that the process isn't moving fast enough to return back to normal.

The first time her visitor had taken off her shirt, Lena had gasped despite herself, her gaze latching onto the slowly-healing injuries that adorned intertwined with inked circuitry that mapped her visitor's back. It wasn't until Lena began her first inspection that she had noticed the defined musculature of the woman in front of her. Piercing blue eyes had stared at her in a mixture of curiosity and concern, but she only shook her head and needlessly advised her visitor to be more careful.

No, her patient.

The woman in front of her is her patient, though Lena certainly doesn't feel qualified in the slighest.

The only patient that's been assigned to her because she's the only living person in the whole of Terran who is knowledgeable and capable of working with Kryptonian physiology. A particular fact that sat uneasily on her conscience. Not when the only reason she'd ever learned was due to the copious and obsessive notes and files that her now deceased brother had compiled about Kryptonians when they first touched down on terran soil for the first time fifteen years ago.

Not when she'd been entirely too late to stop her brother from murdering the only other Kryptonian—her patient's cousin—in the name of human advancement.

She wheels herself towards a dresser of drawers on her patient's other side, pulling on a lead-lined drawer labeled KZE, carefully extricating tools out and placing them on the table nearby.

"That can't always be your excuse," she murmurs, even as she puts on her gloves and quickly inspects the tools, each one more likely to be found in a surgical room than an engineer's workbench. Radiating green crystals are in every single one as a means to penetrate through what has otherwise been considered invulnerable skin.

"How about 'I was helping get a cat named Streaky unstuck from the top of a tree on my way here'?"

Lena stops to meet her visitor's gaze and goofy grin, even in the face of visible effects to the proximity of her glowing green tools. Lena narrows her eyes to avoid rolling them. She just knows that her patient will be watching, is always watching, just to give more meaning to her simple response.

"This is not a negotiation, Ms. Zor-El."

Her patient sighs. "Zor-El was my father. You know you can call me Kara. I've never heard of anybody ever once wearing it out."

"Face forward, Ms. Zor-El." She says, waiting until her patient turns around. This is a familiar song and dance between them starting from the moment Kara Zor-El was assigned to her care only four months ago, the Cadmus Council providing Lena very little room to protest or decline—not when she wanted to avoid any ramifications for her experiments at Mount Norquay.

When they first shook hands (Lena noting the faint traces of circuitry that adorned her patient's perfectly sculpted body), the Kryptonian had insisted on being called by her first name. Yet, Lena did not budge, citing a need to maintain professionalism. Naturally, her patient has attempted to change her mind ever since.

Truth of the matter is that Lena can't allow herself an inch of this familiarity. Not when she knows what she knows, not when she carries the burdens of her family's sins, of their legacies, not when her healing hands learned everything from the success of a murder.

Instead, she focuses on the tasks in front of her, fixing and healing the fresh new injuries to the Kryptonian's systems.

"Hope," she calls out to her virtual assistant, surveying the damage on her patient's back. The damage isn't so severe, she surmises, but she does need to re-update internal systems before she can physically patch the massive crater on the Kryptonian's back so it can heal eventually itself. "Roll back to an old Myriad update, please."

"Of course, Lena." The voice responds from somewhere up above, her centralized computer system whirring in the background. She then opens another drawer and pulls out more traditional wound treatments.

"Howcome your robot gets to call you by your first name, but this robot can't?" The Kryptonian asks, thumb pointing at herself, befoere twisting to look over her shoulder. Lena immediately pauses, ensuring that she does not cause any unnecessary harm to her patient.

"Hold still, Ms. Zor-El."

The Kryptonian exaggerates her sigh, resigned to what Lena can only assume is another bout of failure, all while she attempts to ignore the jut of pouting lips as blonde head rests on strong forearms.

Lena, steady yet gentle in her touch, tips the Kryptonian's head down so she has better access to the nape before inserting a trapezoidal rod from her tray of fine tools. The silver circuit lines begin to emit a green glow, as if powering her patient's body on, matching the glowing from the green crystals embedded in it, in the center of the diamond markings inked on alien skin. The penetration causes indigo blood to trickle out, Lena quick to use the back of her sleeve to wipe it off.

"Alright?" she asks after her patient sucks air through her teeth before releasing a shaky breath. Lena subtly rubs a couple of gentle circles using the side of her palm on the skin just to the side of where the rod sits.

"Never better."

She does roll her eyes then knowing that the Kryptonian can't see her. Lena proceeds by turning the rod ninety degrees until the expanse of her patient's back begins to glow around particular inked lines, three stacked panels along the spine appear, revealing the Kryptonian's internal systems. It's a technological marvel to witness every time, a perfect combination of mechanical innovation so well integrated with organic lifeform.

She makes quick work of the more technical components of her patient's body, fiddling with some delicate wiring amidst flesh and updating and upgrading where necessary. All the while, she keeps a close eye on her patient's skin, the circuitry glowing green, and her breathing—steady in parts, haggard in others. She tries to speed the process along as much as she can, even knowing that this truly requires a deft and delicate touch, the knowledge not lost on her that the Kryptonian must be in immense pain while her internal systems are meddled with.

As expected, her patient does not complain, does not react save for an occasional twitch or stiffness in tension. After a silent twenty minutes, she finishes with a relieved sigh. She's quick to treat the injury with specialized antibiotics before properly dressing it, more than eager to cover that wound. Regardless of how she feels about her patient, she genuinely does not want to further the pain the Kryptonian experiences, war soldier or not. She pushes her stool back after placing her tools back on the table.

"Go ahead and put your shirt back on."

"Not so bad this time, right?" The Kryptonian asks with her own sigh of relief, already shrugging her shirt back on.

"Just be more careful next time," she advises, though she knows that these words mean nothing, have never been heeded. Not for what the Terran government and Cadmus Council want from their superpowered alien.

"You got it, Doc." Her patient then rises from the chair and begins walking towards the door. By this point, Lena has come to expect that on her fifth step towards the door, she will turn around, hands in her pockets like she's just a regular woman, and opens her mouth. "Say, Dr. Luthor, would you like to join me and some of the others for drinks later at Noonan's? I think it'd be nice."

The Kryptonian stands to her full height, another smile on her face. Lena doesn't know what's more tragic to watch: how her patient continues to try to invite her out to spend time together after every visit, or the fact that her patient truly believes it'd actually be nice to spend time with her cousin's murderer's sister.

Lena has since rolled back in front of her workbench and pointedly stared at the Kryptonian. Admitting defeat, her patient only widens her smile and nods in understanding.

"Until next time?" she asks, now at the threshold. Lena offers her a polite smile, the best she can do.

"See you then."

—

So it goes.

Each visit near identical.

Lena fixes her patient.

The Kryptonian pursues the impossible.

—

A month later, it all changes.

[imiya]

Tilly & Finley Wild Manes Review

since i got a hold of these girlies lets investimigate- apologies for overexposure

first, individual pics of each of them. here's finley:

who is themed after a pool party, of course. when i bought her at target, the self checkout display called her Isla, which makes sense as a working name for her... island.

she is white with grey hooves and a muzzle. she has blue eyeshadow with green eyes and blonde eyebrows, matching her blonde hair with a purple streak.

i will color correct these photos for the wiki, but for now, here's the raw photo of her clothes

all of the clothes are unhemmed and simply printed-on fabric with two velcro connections. my finley also had a plastic tab keeping the front attatched (which i snipped so i could remove it). you can see her mermaid tail and flamingoes on her clothes. the clothing is very thin, i don't think it might fray any time soon, but it does seem lazy for a fashion horse toy. thankfully, the hair makes up for it, we'll get there later.

each of these horses came with a brush and a non-brush accessory. finley's is wearable! she has a visor made with this magenta translucent plastic. i didn't take any pictures of it on her, but it does indeed fit on her head.

she comes with this purple brush, which you can tell is hers because of the flamingo printed on it.

and now a quick tilly rundown...

she's a brown horse with a brown muzzle and hooves, red eyeshadow, yellow eyes, and blonde eyebrows. her hair is more of a dirty blonde than finley, and her color streak is described as "periwinkle". the self checkout register called her Serena, which... yeah, i can see why they may have changed that. a little on the nose.

as you can see by her brush's symbol, she's very clearly tennis-themed. her accessory is unfortunately not wearable, instead it's a water bottle with a tennis racket printed on

horse gotta hydrate

if that all wasn't clear enough, her outfit has a tennis racket on it, too! there is no hemming, the "collar" is printed on. her outfit looks like a blue polo and a teal skirt.

okay, now the part people actually wanted to see. what the heck the figures look like

it's gettin' hot in here, so take off all your clothes...

both finley and tilly have the same exact model! i assume the horses (ponies? horses. fillies?) all have the same bodies. i think i can feel a few spots where the plastic feels slightly more rubbery/pliable than the others, so i do fear we may see discoloration as time goes on.

all of the legs are articulated at the shoulder or "hip" (sorry horse fans, it's a knee or something?), but only the front left leg is articulated in multiple places.

thank you girls, finley has her leg fairly straightened out whereas tilly has it bent. i haven't noticed the joints being unusually difficult to maneuver or maintain position, which bodes well for pictures. i did have a little bit of trouble getting them to balance in my photobox (likely because the bottom bows inwards a bit), but the little extra range of motion is nice. you can also twist the joints a little bit, but not super extremely.

but can she sit?

sort of? i know horses don't really naturally "sit" very well, but she still looks goofy. her neck doesn't move forwards so it's not a very great-looking pose for her to hold, but she can balance like this on her own.

hey, look at me when i'm talkin to you

thanks. side view of her in that same pose.

her head can turn, it's on a ball join, i believe it's similar to the g4.5/g5 mlp joints but a little more restrictive. i intend to dismantle a finley for research, so ill be able to share that when the time comes. it can rotate and move up and down slightly.

more motion... one of the back legs is in a mid-walk position which made her a little awkward to balance. you can see the company name and "made in china" stamp on the inside of this leg.

it's not very clear in this image, but there's a stamp with numbers and letters on her stomach. i don't know what this means, as finley had the same code! you can also see the hooves have horseshoes with "WM" (wild manes) on them.

before we get into the manes of the wild manes, a quick little look at their eyes.

the paint looks great! it's not stippled like i've seen on a few other dolls recently. the eyes are also sculpted in, so we hopefully won't have wild misplacement like we do on the newer MLPs. they both have stars and two eye shines, and the eyelashes are the same. the only differences here are the colors.

okay. mane time.

the hair is SUPER soft. i agree with the replier who said it's Kiwi Nylon. i am very happy that the hair is so nice and hope that the others in this set are the same way! the way it's packaged in the box makes it so there are three or four rubber bands holding it in place, and it leaves the hair with the "memory" of that. i did wash and condition the hair in these photos, which also seemed to help with the small qualms i had with the hair right out of the box. it seemed a little oily and tilly had a doubled-over plug. finley didn't seem to have any rooting troubles!

all of the hair is a few rows up the back of the head with a section for bangs. you can see that they wove tilly's bangs with the longer hair that's part of her mane to hide the parting in her head, which is likely expected for a doll but a cool detail. her bangs are NOT gelled down!

here you can see five to six rows of hair on the back of the head. it's not a lot of surface area, but the hair seems thickly rooted for what it is!

here i've parted the mane on Finley so you can see the hair a little more clearly. it looks like the streaks of hair are only on the outside of the rooting.

i've been a little afraid to peel back finley's bangs lest they become unsalvagable, but here's finley's bangs peeled back.

there's still a few rows here. when i dismantle her, hopefully i can showcase her rooting pattern more clearly.

i think that's all the pictures i've taken of them so far... i got these girls at Target, and you can order them as well as Bailey and Cocoa off their site right now! i'll be updating the fandom wiki with pictures of the accessories and hopefully the rest of the girls are as high quality as these ones!

[fleckcmscott]

Rocks and Shoals

Summary: Arthur asks for Y/N's help. She finds more than she bargained for.

Words: 4,844

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Discussions of abuse

A/N: This piece stems from a request made by @tally-kiza. Cal wanted a story in which Arthur meets Bruce Wayne. I don't think this was what she had in mind 😂, but I like when requests take me somewhere unexpected. The writing process on this one was harder than it's been in the last couple of years. Hopefully, you all find it interesting. 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

June's warmth rolled through Arthur as he and Y/N strolled through Shreck's bustling aisles. The department store's Get Your Summer Rolling sale was going strong. Twenty-five percent off entire departments, from VHS head cleaning kits, to bicycle training wheels, to side tables made of rattan.

Filled with want instead of need (in particular, the want of a date), he was the one to suggest this outing. Before he could finish the invitation, she'd accepted and added her own. BonBon's Bread & Butter, a bakery she'd turned him onto that his old wallet had ignored. The makings of a marvelous afternoon.

A display of dresses halted him, a prism of color on a four-way rack. He picked up the one that matched his work vest. Mustard yellow, a boat neck that wouldn't quite dare to slip from her shoulder, cap sleeves with white piping. A skirt whose flare felt carefree.

"What about this?" he asked. He held it up and out, closed one eye to create a rough silhouette over her form. The hem would end two inches above her knee.

She turned to him, tapping her chin. "That's a little young for me."

"Well, I'm a little young for you, but we go well together." Fresh color brightened her cheeks, egged him on to tease her further. "You'd look cute in it."

Giggling, she took the dress. Gave it a glance before returning it to the rack. He opened his mouth to protest but bit his tongue when she draped the dusky rose option over her forearm. Her pupils had gone wide and flirty, utterly in love. "I'll try it on but no promises."

The urge to pat her bottom seized him, a delicate caress on feminine curves. But in the middle of a department store swarmed by deal seekers, that'd be a tad forward. He settled for cupping her hip and kissing her instead.

Shopping bag in one hand, hers in the other, they started up the sidewalk towards Landing Plaza to catch the blue line. Y/N's pace slowed as a newsstand came into view. Forest green, made of chipped plywood, the place sold all the news fit for print and a helping of unfit on the side. The owner's attention see-sawed between a regular who'd brought a thermos of coffee and a black and white TV showing tennis on mute. He gruffed good naturedly around the ball of tobacco in his cheek.

A family portrait displayed by a carton of cinnamon Certs stole Arthur's attention.

"Gotham's First Family!" shouted Vue magazine. Cursive promises strutted across the glossy paper: exclusive pictorials of the mayoral election. A tour of the heretofore unseen East Wing of Wayne Manor. From Martha's kitchen to yours, a recipe for lobster thermidor.

Knees splayed like a king on a throne, Thomas Wayne dominated a white, wingback chair. Martha stood at his side, a hand unmarred by dishwashing placed demurely on his shoulder. Just behind them and to the right, Bruce sat astride a large rocking horse, nearly the size of a horse itself. His expression was as austere as a father's affection.

The warmth of summer transformed into the familiar flames of fury that made Arthur hate everyone in the world - himself most of all.

Growing up a without a dad was a maw whose jagged teeth scraped his soul. Carved cuts when he longed for advice from a parent, graved gashes when he'd needed a father to have his back. The men Penny had dated split before Arthur could build attachments out of hope. Murray's love had been a mirage.

And then there were her incessant letters to the Waynes.

When he'd finally read one, he'd been stupid enough to believe her tale of a love affair and hopped a train to the happy family reunion he'd always wanted. But no fine robe came his way, no fattened calf was slaughtered. The butler had stared at him like he was a ghost. Declared it a lie, laughed and called him a fool.

But he'd known Penny's name. He'd known Penny's name.

Arthur's eyes met Mr. Wayne's on the magazine, green ice on grey steel. If his father had accepted him, rescued him from the depths, maybe he could have been the kind of person worthy of love and respect. He would've finished school, had his own room, a little brother to teach about the world. He wouldn't have had to learn to be hungry. He wouldn't have his condition.

He wouldn't carry the pain of knowing there were things he never wanted to remember.

Y/N grabbed the latest TV Guide (next week's hadn't arrived) and paid exact change. He studied the fall of her hair, her warm smile when she asked if he was all set. At her side, he was learning to accept himself, to like himself for who he really was. But even she couldn't grind the whirring gears of his mind to a halt.

Because part of acceptance was knowing the truth.

~~~~~

The bedside clock advanced another minute. 6:32 PM and Arthur still wasn't home.

They'd split on the subway. With each stop, with every passenger filing in and out, the larger his nostrils had flared. The tighter his grip on the stanchion had become, white-knuckled and trembling. Signs of stress she knew well but hadn't matched their wonderful day. She'd put her chin on his shoulder, asked if he was all right. His reply? A curt nod she hadn't bought.

As they'd disembarked to transfer to the red line, he'd shoved his hands in his pockets. Stammered that he needed to clear his head, that he'd walk the rest of the way home. No, she didn't need to tag along. It was nothing, really. Don't worry, he'd be fine.

That was over two hours ago. She'd done the dishes, vacuumed the apartment, sprayed blue gel in the toilet and scrubbed the bathroom sink. Tuned into a rerun she didn't enjoy without him and the evening news. The seconds ticked by ever slower.

Pushing out a sigh, she plopped on her side of the bed and grabbed her new dress. Being a fretful wife was about as useful as a teabag in coffee. Arthur was an adult who handled himself well. He knew this city better than she did. Maybe he'd bumped into a friend or dropped by Pogo's for a good laugh. Wherever he was, he'd be home soon.

As if she'd summoned him, there came the click of the front door.

"I'm in here," she called. Shoes clunked to the floor, keys clinked in the catch-all dish on the counter. Hands folded together, he came to lean on the doorway. Judging by his lowered shoulders, a third of his tension had melted away. She offered a welcoming smile, an invitation to shed the rest. "Did the fresh air do you good?"

"Yeah." Equal parts unconvincing and unconvinced. He went to the other side of the bed and unzipped his fly. Sat behind her so they were back-to-back. "I need your help."

"With what?" She flipped the dress's sales tag and got a pair of small scissors from the top drawer of her nightstand.

Cotton sleeves rustled down his arms. "Can you- can you find out if I was adopted?"

A metallic snip bounced off his question. The loose tag fell to the floor. "Why are you asking that now?"

"With Thomas Wayne all over the news...I wanna know."

Bitterness slithered up her throat, chafing and pungent. In the past year and half, he'd barely mentioned the Waynes. And Penny only when dealing with the nursing home. From the spartan details he'd shared of his therapy sessions, Y/N had thought he was well on his way to moving on. A terribly naive assumption, she realized. One made because she so badly wanted it for him.

She'd been trying to follow her joke of a new year's resolution to mute the TV whenever that asshole appeared. To read half the articles she used to, the bare minimum to glean what Thomas Wayne being mayor could mean for her adopted hometown. She'd had a hairbreadth's of success.

But failing at derailing the Wayne case, failing Arthur and Ms. McPhee, every tenant who'd been displaced, continued to bruise her heart. Good Morning, Gotham's breathless coverage of the groundbreaking ceremony for the Wayne Medical Center - on Anderson Avenue, no less - had resulted in a stiff neck and swallowed tears. Digging into whatever connection he believed he might have would keep that front and center.

She folded the dress into thirds in her lap. Rubbed the collar between thumb and forefinger. "I don't think I'm the best person to help with this."

"What? Why?"

"My access to family matter records changed when I left my old firm."

"Well, couldn't you try?"

"Maybe you could talk to Dr. Ludlow about it?"

"She doesn't do investigations."

His rasp of desperation whittled at her resolve. Yet, she had to remain steadfast. For her own sake. She said, "Not stopping the Waynes is a regret I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I can't get involved with them right now."

"But I'm just asking you to do your job."

"It's not the same. The clients at my office," she said, twisting to face him. "I don't know them. There's a professional distance. With you - and with Waynes - there is no distance."

"My mother was a really fucked up person. She only dated abusive guys."

A wince at the anguish passing his lips. A hairline crack shot through her certainty.

"You don't understand what I've been through," he continued. "Your parents loved you. You had your father. He- He was a doctor."

Hurt sliced through her, sharp and winding. He'd always highlighted their similarities, enjoyed exploring their differences. Not once had he treated them as a fault.

She laid a hand on his back. His ribs quaked beneath her fingers, a seismometer about to hit 7.3. "You've dealt with more than anyone should have to. But I'm not-"

"No!" he cried, and leapt away. Clad in his briefs, completely bared before her. His face was a glare of anger and agony. "I ask for one thing, and you're going to say no? I can't believe it! I- I-" Fists clenched at his sides in a way that alerted but did not threaten. "I'm tired of loving someone I hate!"

He fled. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

Y/N's heart hammered and ached in equal measure. She bent to pick up the fallen price tag. Crumpled it in her hand. She stood to hang the dress in the closet; it brushed Arthur's maroon suit. She ran her fingers down the lapel, recalled his appearance on Live! With Murray Franklin. The joke about Wayne tower, how he'd wished the bully of a TV host was his father.

What else lurked beneath Penny's delusions or Thomas Wayne's sins?

The harder she would try to ignore Arthur's question, the more it would persist, a mosquito bite on her back she couldn't scratch. Whether adopted or not, he'd felt the sting of rejection, and her sensible response was a rejection again. The equivalent of leaving him with a pamphlet and a Take Care of Yourself.

She'd never been good at minding her own business. Why beyond cowardice should she start now?

~~~~~

Blackness enveloped him, a thick, viscous fog. He could not see. He could not hear. He could not smell. He could not taste. He could not scream. Manacles shackled him. No, that was wrong. His wrists were loose, but he could not move them. They were held by an invisible force. They were bound by unknowledge.

Arthur startled awake with a jerk. Breath choked him, the collision of a gasp and a sob. He kicked the covers off his legs. Toenails scratched polyester. He squeezed both wrists. Free. Blessedly free.

He reached to his left towards Y/N. Fingers dug into cool, empty sheets. Boosting himself to his elbows, he squinted into the dark. No sign of her, no whispered comforts, no light beneath the door. A sigh stuttered his stomach. He sank back onto the mattress.

After their argument, the evening hadn't improved. The Silent Treatment wasn't intended; he'd hated it when Penny had given it to him. But he couldn't look at Y/N, had had to keep himself from lashing out by staying a mile away. He'd fled to the basement to do laundry and smoke. Skipped dinner to camp in his writing nook. Snubbed her offer to talk and scrawled seething across four wide-ruled pages. When she'd gone to bed, the irritation in her clipped night made him roll his eyes.

He folded the comforter in his arms, held it fiercely to his chest. His past was not her fault. Yes, she was supposed to be there for him. But yelling when she'd refused to help had been unfair. (He was grateful to have grown enough to understand that.) If she asked for a favor, she always gave him explicit permission to say no. A sign of respect and love. He owed her that, at least.

He'd bring his journal and thoughts to therapy - and ask how to handle being disappointed by his wife.

But there was something he had to do first.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulled his pajamas over his hips, tightened the drawstring. He cracked the door a sliver and peeked out. Harsh fluorescent spilled from both ends of the kitchen. He took measured steps across the cream carpet.

Y/N stood at the counter, studying the pages of the Gotham Journal and sipping at her oversized mug. Her bathrobe was cinched at her hips, her feet bare on the linoleum. Though it was the middle of the night, her postured carried the composure of a professional woman.

She didn't look his way.

Pressing his lips together in a side-to-side motion, he inched to stand behind her. Another sip and turn of the page. Lightly, he fingered a loose tendril of her hair. Her weight shifted to her heels. He ghosted a palm down her shoulder. Wrapped a loose arm about her waist.

Their lips parted at the same time.

"I'm sorry I-"

"-I'll do it."

~~~~~

City Hall was a dead end.

Flicking her fingernails, Y/N waited on a split canvas chair. Fourteen minutes had passed since Darrell from Vital Records had noted her driver's license, her marriage certificate as proof of kinship, and headed to the basement archive for Arthur's birth certificate.

There was a mural on the wall to her right. Twelve feet high and art deco, its modern lines and bold colors portrayed the Eliots - one of Gotham's five founding families - stepping off a boat into a promising, prosperous future. Her gaze followed its clean, simple brushstrokes. Arthur and Y/N Elliot. Arthur and Y/N Cobblepot. Arthur and Y/N Wayne...

She swung her foot back and forth. If she did find proof that Thomas Wayne had abandoned a son. What was she supposed to do? Call into GCR's Let's Breakfast to offer an expose? She'd be dismissed as a crank. Besides, she preferred Arthur and Y/N Fleck to them all. A life filled with love and laughter instead of high society functions and playing nice with people she couldn't stand.

"Sorry for the wait, ma'am," Darrell said, appearing behind the clerk's window. His hands were annoyingly empty. "There're no records with that name. You sure your husband was born in Gotham?"

"Yes," she said. She reached the counter in two strides. "Would an adoption have changed it?"

"Into an amended birth certificate. The original would've been sealed, but there's no note of that, either." He leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching the glass. "There might've been a clerical error. His name might've been misspelled. Records from back then? I've seen it a lot. If you get more information - where his mother was born, his father's name - we can take another look."

His father's name. Despite Darrell's kindness, it felt like a cruel joke.

"Could you check for his mother's birth certificate?" Y/N asked. "Cross-reference it somehow? She was born here, too."

"I'd need proof of kinship to her, not your husband. Sorry." And he really did look it.

Adjusting the purse on her shoulder, she sorted through her mental filing cabinet, searching for another path. "What if he needed it for a job or to get a license?"

"He'd have to come down here for a Letter of No Record. Tell him to bring his social security card and a piece of mail to prove residency. We can use your marriage certificate as a third verification. Central office would need a couple weeks for processing, but it shouldn't be a problem. Let me get you the form."

Though she wouldn't use it, she folded it into fourths. A Letter of No Record. A Letter of No Name. She offered a disappointed smile and a quiet thanks.

The next morning, Y/N slipped out of a staff meeting to make a call. (Wanda took good notes, and, if Phil came to shove, she could blame it on her monthly and never be bothered again.) Depending on the circumstances, either the district or probate court handled adoptions.

The clerks at district court knew her too well for her to sniff around on a case with her last name. Even if she introduced herself as Louise Harris - her middle and maiden - they could very well recognize her voice. So, she dialed probate as Y/N Thompson.

"It would be between 1949 and 1952. A social services case, listed under Penny Fleck, regarding her son Arthur. Same last name." She turned her pencil over, slid her fingers down it, turned it over again. "Yes, I realize that. But if I could just get a timeline of what happened. What's the soonest that could- This afternoon? That'd be great. Thank you. Here's my direct line."

But by quitting time, no one had called back.

When she got home, there was a note from Arthur on the counter. He was on a job, dancing his heart out across from Amusement Mile's gate. She poured herself a merlot and settled on the couch, frustration settling in her that she'd managed to uncover absolutely nothing. She swished the rich, smooth liquid between her teeth.

For the safety of the child and the accused, child protective matters were confidential. Courts often forwent a transcript of the proceedings, and some judges held hearings in their chambers instead of a courtroom. The hush hushness she'd encountered would make sense if the rules had been followed.

But there'd been media coverage of the charges against Penny. Of the horrors done to her son. Maybe Gotham's privacy statutes hadn't yet existed, or the facts of the case had been leaked. Either way, the story had been too lurid for anyone to give a damn.

That train of thought urged Y/N upwards and to the bedroom. She stood before the bureau. Crossed her arms over her breasts. Eyed the bottom drawer. In its back corner, wrapped in sweatpants under a retina-searing paisley skirt her sister had mailed her for Christmas, was the Arkham file.

Out of a desire to respect Arthur's privacy - and to spare herself details she hadn't wanted to know - she'd read just enough to get an understanding of why he'd stolen it. What had wounded him, what he'd gone through. Now all other avenues to answers had been closed, with no detour signs to follow. This was the only option left.

She went to the kitchen and grabbed the phone.

"I'm about to do something stupid," she said.

Patricia replied without pause. "Need a hand?"

~~~~~

Bathed in the amber light of a globe pendant lamp, Y/N sat at Patricia's dining table. Penny's file was a specter on the blue and white enamel, a lifetime of sorrow shrunk to a compact two inches. Eyes red and puffy, nose clogged and stuffy, Y/N closed the folder. Her palm lingered on the stained cardstock.

She'd been aware of the outlines of abuse. The filth and the radiator. The brutality and neglect Arthur had survived and defied. The system that'd forced a boy to care for the woman who hadn't fulfilled a parent's most sacred duty: to keep her child safe. The rest had been a murky wetland.

Tonight, she'd been foolish enough to read every page.

Once, in the heat of love and aching for him to take her, she's squeezed his ass. He'd laughed a sultry laugh, murmured admonishments he hadn't meant into her mouth. When he'd kept on teasing, that squeeze had become a slap. Normal, bedroom fun with the man she adored. The man she burned for.

The entire mood had turned on its head.

He'd frozen, started at her. The look of a man learning the word betrayal. Scrambling off her, he'd yanked on his drawers and rasped. "Never hit me again." Then he'd locked himself in the bathroom. A clue she'd merely scratched the surface of what had happened to him.

Now she'd bitten an apple from the Tree of Knowledge, and the full extent of use and misuse had appeared to her.

"I called the district court," Patricia said from the kitchen across the way. "The only document in the file was an order returning Arthur to his mother in 1954." She retrieved a bottle of White Horse whiskey from the top of the refrigerator. "Does he really think Thomas Wayne is his father?"

"That's what Penny told him. That they had an affair, and Thomas broke it off."

Patricia poured doubles into two tumblers. She did not add ice. "What do you think?"

"It wouldn't be the first time a rich guy slept with the help." Nor would he be the first rich guy to cover it up.

Penny's medical file having more legal records than the courts was odd. The Permission to Screen for Reports of Abuse and Neglect and the adoption application felt too tidy, as if placed there to be found. In the transcript of her interview with Dr. Stoner, she'd claimed they were a fabrication courtesy of Thomas. Y/N had seen how powerful the Waynes were, how their foundation could manipulate a system for a guaranteed win.

Then again, Penny wasn't exactly a reliable witness. She hadn't heard Arthur cries, said she'd done nothing wrong. Even with all her boyfriend had done to her. All he had done to Arthur...

Y/N blinked against the words seared into her mind. "Why was he given back to her? He could've had a good home."

"It's hard to place older children, especially boys. People think they'll start fights or burn the place down." Patricia set both glasses on the table and sat across from her.

"She used to tell him that God put him on this earth to bring joy and laughter. That that's why he has his neurological condition." Y/N spun her glass in a slow circle. "He took care of her for twenty years - twenty years. And he based his life on her lies. Being a party clown, getting into comedy."

"What she did was terrible, but there are worse things for a man to want than to be kind."

Y/N bit her lip until it throbbed with her pulse. "I'm not any closer to the answers he wanted. I wish I knew how to help him deal with this, but I'm no expert." She wasn't great at dealing with her own baggage.

"You're an expert in Arthur," Patricia said, taking her hand. "When it comes to him, you always figure it out. You two give Robert and me a run for our money."

Turning her hand to hold Patricia's, Y/N breathed a little easier. She trusted her best friend's judgment. With a modicum of effort, she'd extend that trust to herself. She swirled the auburn liquid in her glass, downed it in one swoop. "I'll have to write Penny more often."

Patricia put on her Why on Earth face. "What the hell for?"

A lick of defiance rose in Y/N's chest. She grasped it and met her friend's stare. "Because her son is a wonderful man, and I need her to know that."

~~~~~

Being an expert in her husband didn't halt the fluttery feeling in Y/N's stomach.

She'd made a bulleted list of what to say and shorthand tips on how to say it. Strove to find the balance between the professional and the personal. To do better than a pamphlet. Arthur's weekly appointment with Dr. Ludlow was at nine tomorrow morning. If telling him what she had and hadn't discovered went sideways, he'd only have to wait fourteen hours to talk to her.

She stirred a pitcher of powered iced tea and filled their usual glasses. Tucked her legal pad and the Arkham file under her arm. On her way to the living room, she glanced out the window. Heavy rain, forecasted to continue through midnight. When he'd brought the file over, he'd been drenched while she'd stayed dry. Now they'd weather the downpour together.

Arthur browsed the TV Guide on the sofa, underlining listings. "The Verdict is the Friday Night Feature on GBS," he said. "It got four stars here. Do you wanna watch it?"

"But you'll miss Love Boat."

"It's just a rerun. I can record it, anyway."

"It's a date." She held a glass out to him. A moment's hesitation before she straightened herself to her full, courtroom posture. "Speaking of verdicts, I finished looking at what you asked, about Penny and Thomas Wayne. And you. Do you want to go over it?"

His gaze dragged to meet hers. "Uh, yeah. Okay." He took the drink and slid off the couch to sit cross-legged at the coffee table. She settled at the end, diagonally across from him, and laid the folder on the maple surface. "You- you kept that?" he asked.

"It felt too important to throw out. But I should've told you. We can put it with our other documents. If you don't like that idea, you can do what you think is best." With that, she opened the file.

She'd placed the pertinent documents on top, the photographs of Arthur's injuries and sensational headlines at the bottom. She angled her legal pad so he could follow along.

"The Department of Vital Records couldn't find your birth certificate. Adopted or not, everyone should have one. Any social services records from when you were a boy are sealed. Without a subpoena - that's a court order that compels testimony or information - they can't be accessed."

She indicated the Child Adoption Application. "This certificate has the city's seal, and the orphanage's director signed it. If you look closely, it says it's for temporary custody. A single woman today would have a difficult time getting permission to foster a child, much less adopt one. Especially one with her psychiatric history. It wouldn't've have been any easier in the forties - I couldn't get my own credit card until 1974.

"If she worked for the Waynes, they may have helped her. But they also could've fabricated this to help themselves. For people like them, a well-placed call is worth more than a hundred pages of statutes."

A long, slow blink. He wavered before managing to speak. "What does that mean? What's the truth?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Arthur."

He nodded, his mouth a straight line. Even with his closed expression, she could sense his vulnerability.

There was one indelible truth she was certain of. She took a deep, pained breath. "You were right. I don't understand what you've been through. Only that it was too much."

His gaze fell away, shaded by secrets he shouldn't have to keep. Weary cheeks puffed in and out, in and out. He pulled the legal pad closer, scratched lines into circles into spirals into screams.

Contrition moved aside, making room for conviction. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing that happened - none of it - was your fault." With each word, a raw harshness threatened her low voice. "You're so strong. I'm proud of you for being-"

"Please stop," he said. Sniffling, he hiccuped a laugh and wiped at his nose. His knuckles came away wet. "I never asked to be good at taking a hit."

She nodded an apology, a sad smile trembling over her lips. She reached under the table. Fingertips brushed the wrinkled fabric covering his knee. "You can tell me whatever you need."

A fraught half-whisper. "I can't."

Scooting closer, she grasped his wet hand and folded their fingers together. Kissed his shoulder and rested her chin on it. Took his pain and returned it to him as love. "I'll be here when you can."

Raindrops clattered the windows. A streak of lightening brightened the sky, a spark against the dreariness of the storm.

Scratches slowed to scribbles, Arthur leaned his head to hers.

~~~~~

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[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Hungry like the Wolf

A Stoncy fanfiction

A/N: I've been working on this for a while, I'm hoping it's just a two parter.

Part One

Fall

August 30th, 1985, Around Midnight

The full moon would be here soon, Steve thought. It would be his second time transitioning in the privacy of Hopper's rundown cabin. . .second time turning all together. It was the only place he could turn without worrying about anyone walking in on him. At least, he got to keep mind during the transformations, he thought, but it was going to hurt. Steve’s eyes watched the clock on the wall. . .the hands ticking by slowly.

Tick. . .tick. . .tick. . .tick. . .okay, here we go. . .

Steve had already shed his clothing, so when he started to turn, he was already naked. He got down onto all fours as he body began to make the necessary adjustments to turn him into a wolf. He couldn't help it when his bones began to shift. . .when they cracked and bent, Steve Harrington screamed. He could hear Robin and Dustin from outside, whispering to each other. They both insisted on being there to help him through it, even though he insisted he was fine, but he had to admit, it made it easier.

"It's alright, Steve," they whispered to him. "We're here."

Finally, Steve made it through the horrifying ordeal with the full moon now hung high in the sky. He padded over to the broken mirror. Hazel green eyes now with flecks of yellow. His chestnut hair was still perfect as usual, and he had to admit he loved the fact that it was all over his body. He also loved his fluffy tail. He grinned, his pink tongue rolling out in a pant, as he wagged said fluffy tail. Yeah, he was a handsome wolf. He headed towards the door and pushed it open with his paws. Paws that were as big as his hands. Robin and Dustin gasped at the sight of him, just like last time. He jumped off the porch and started bouncing around them in excitement. Their giggles only encouraged his behavior.

"Hey, buddy!" Dustin grinned as he patted Steve’s back. "I got something for you."

Steve leaned forward on his front paws like he'd seen dogs do, his butt high in the air as he wagged his tail. Dustin pulled a yellow tennis ball out of his pocket. Steve sat on his butt with a huff and gave Dustin a look that said he wasn't impressed.

"I told you he wouldn't find it funny," Robin laughed.

Steve stared at him before jumping up and nudged Dustin's hand before jumping back to wait.

"See? He wants me to throw it," Dustin said.

Dustin threw the ball as far as he could. Steve practically flew through the air as he chased after it. Steve panted, enjoying the rush he felt, the adrenaline, and goddamn. . .He had run faster than he had ever done so as a human. He grabbed the ball to rush back to Dustin when he got a sent in the air. . .two of them. They were far but not that far off, and they were calling to him. Steve dropped the ball and chased after the scent.

"Steve!" He heard them call from behind him, but he ignored them.

The trees, the bushes. . .everything rushed by him in a blur as he raced towards the wonderful smell. There was no way that Robin and Dustin would be able to catch up to him. He was lost in the scent. Finally, he skidded to a stop near. . .Skull Rock? That's when Steve hard the voices. Steve walked through the trees and peered through the branches to look at the couple who arrived. Shit. Nancy and Jonathan at Skull Rock? Steve sniffed the air. The smell was coming from them. He didn't want to eat them. He just wanted to be around them. . .be closer to them.

"Nancy, did Steve take you here?" Jonathan asked.

"Once or twice, and I really wanted to take you here before you left," Nancy said.

"I don't know. . .isn't it weird to bring me to the same place that Steve has been?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, by that logic you shouldn't have fucked me," Nancy said in amusement and put her hands between her legs. "Steve’s been here, too."

"That's, uh, different," Jonathan said.

"Is it, though?" Nancy asked.

She pushed Jonathan up against the rock, kissing him. Suddenly, Steve felt awkward about watching them. He had to let them know he was there or otherwise he would be pulling a Jonathan. Although, what were they doing here in the middle of the night? What was that about Jonathan leaving? Steve shook his head, barked, and bounded through the trees, making himself known. They jumped apart pretty quickly.

"Oh, a dog! He's beautiful," Nancy said.

Steve grinned, opening his mouth and letting his tongue roll out. Nancy was about to approach him when Jonathan pulled her back.

"Nance, that's not a dog. That's a wolf," Jonathan said.

"Jonathan, don't be ridiculous. There aren't any wolves in Hawkins," Nancy replied.

"Yeah, and up until a couple of years ago, we didn't know there was another world under Hawkins either," he pointed out.

"That's true," she said, frowning, and then she smiled. "Well, he looks like a very friendly wolf."

Despite Jonathan's protests, Nancy approached Steve. She held out her hand for him to sniff. Steve did so and also gave her fingers a few licks. Nancy giggled before placing her hand on his head and petting him. Steve leaned into her touch, enjoying the feeling of her fingernails dragging gently through his fur and lightly against his skin. Nancy sat on the ground, letting Steve rest his head on her knee.

"Nancy. . .," Jonathan said softly.

"Come here and pet him," Nancy said. "Please?"

Jonathan sat down next to Nancy and ran his fingers through his coat. Steve looked at Jonathan, studying him. He should hate him. . .but he can't seem to find it in his heart to do so. Steve knew that Nancy and Jonathan never intended to hurt him, yet they did. Looking at Jonathan, it was weird because there was a part of Steve that wished that he would look at him in the same way that he looked at Nancy. He just wanted Jonathan to see him, to see that he does care.

"He does have a beautiful coat," Jonathan said and paused. "I miss Chester."

"Let's take him back to your house," Nancy said. "We can take care of him."

Steve raised his head up. He liked where this was going. . .he wanted to be around them more but he also knew it wasn't a good idea.

"And sneak him past my mother?" Jonathan asked.

"She's going to be asleep, Jonathan," Nancy said.

"And what about in the morning?" Jonathan asked.

"We'll sneak him out before she wakes up," Nancy said. "We both could use the comfort of a warm, cozy animal."

Steve knew that he should leave, but he was also hungry. His stomach gave him away.

"You hungry, boy?" Jonathan asked.

Steve licked his lips and then Jonathan's hand.

"I think that's a yes," Nancy giggled. "Come in, we should give this handsome guy some food."

"You know. . .there's something familiar about this wolf," Jonathan said.

"I was thinking that, too," Nancy said and stroked the top of his head. "He reminds me of Steve."

Steve sat up at attention, looking at them in surprise.

"What word got your attention, buddy?" Jonathan asked. "Steve?"

Steve cocked his head to the side and stood up completely.

"I think he likes that name. Do you want that to be your name?" Nancy cooed, scratching behind his ear. "Steve?"

Steve closed his eyes and leaned into the scratches. No, he should really get back to Dustin and Robin. But he wanted to be with Nancy and Jonathan even more. . .ugh, those scratches felt delightful.

"Come on, Steve," Jonathan said and grinned. "I guess I can't say no to you or Nancy. Let's get you something to eat."

Food. Steve’s stomach growled. Well, a guy has to eat. He followed Jonathan and Nancy back to Jonathan's car, hopping quickly into the backseat when Jonathan gestured for him to do it.

"He listens well," Nancy said. "He's pretty smart, too. He seems domesticated. Do you think he belongs to anybody?"

"He's a wolf, Nancy," Jonathan said. "I doubt anyone in Hawkins is keeping a wolf as a pet."

"Up until two years ago, we didn't know there was another world under Hawkins," Nancy said, mocking Jonathan's voice.

"Okay, okay, maybe he does," he said. "And I don't sound like that."

Steve snorted.

"He's laughing at you, babe," Nancy said. "I think Steve agrees with me."

"He's a dog," Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"He's a wolf," Nancy said in the same mocking tone, and Steve snorted again. "Yeah, he's definitely laughing at you."

Jonathan snuck Steve and Nancy through the back door, checking first to make sure that his family was asleep. Jonathan chopped up leftover pork chops into a bowl and placed it on the floor in front of Steve along with a water bowl. Steve gave him a doubtful look. He's had Nancy and Joyce's cooking before.

"Don't worry, Jonathan made it," Nancy said.

"Like he knows that you and my mother are terrible cooks," Jonathan whispered.

"I think he does," she said in amusement when Steve started to eat.

Once Steve ate and got some water, he headed off towards Jonathan's room. He needed a nap. . .just a little one, and then he'll go.

"Hey, come back here," Jonathan whispered.

Steve nudged Jonathan's door open, hopped on the bed, and made himself comfortable right in the middle. He rested his head on the pillows and made himself as small as possible.

"Aw, look he's tired and he made room for the both of us," Nancy said.

"How did he know this was my room, anyway?" Jonathan asked.

"Probably by smell," Nancy replied. "Come on, Steve has the right idea."

Steve heard them close the door and then dress down before slipping into the bed on either side of him.

"We're sleeping with a wild animal, Nancy," Jonathan said.

"And aren't we lucky?" Nancy asked.

"We probably should have gotten him checked out first," he said.

"Probably, but we've already interacted with him so. . .," Nancy said. "Would you rather sleep with human Steve?"

"Yeah, because at least there's a chance that we'd have sex," Jonathan said and Steve's ears perked up.

What?

"Oh, there's plenty of time for that," Nancy said.

"When are we going to tell him?" Jonathan asked.

"Soon," Nancy muttered. "I just need to figure out what I'm going to say to him, first. It has to be perfect."

Steve looked at her confused before laying his head back, breathing heavily. Even though he wanted to ask her what she meant by that, he couldn't. Steve closed his eyes. He felt like he should be doing something.

"Good night, pretty boy," Jonathan whispered.

The next morning. . .

Nancy could feel the sun against her eyelids, and she did not want to open her eyes. She reached a hand out and smiled, feeling Jonathan's skin against her hand. She loved it when he didn't wear a shirt to bed. Nancy moved her hand down his back and frowned. That didn't feel like Jonathan's back. . .that felt like. . .Nancy's eyes snapped open and came face to face with a sleeping naked Steve in Jonathan's bed. Nancy gasped.

"Nancy?" Jonathan asked sleepily and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, Jonathan, open your eyes and look down," Nancy said.

Jonathan looked down and stumbled out of the bed when he saw Steve laying there.

"When did Steve. . .what the fuck?!" Jonathan exclaimed.

Steve yawned and stretched, sitting up. He blinked sleepily at them.

"Good morning," Steve said.

"Steve. . .how. . .how did you get here, and why are you naked?" Nancy asked.

"Don't you remember? You brought me here," Steve said, rubbing his eyes.

"We brought home a wolf last night, so, unless you can turn into a wolf. . .," Nancy said.

That's when Steve really woke up. He cursed and moved to the end of the bed, pooling the blankets around himself.

"Shit, I wasn't ready to tell you guys yet," Steve cursed again. "I knew I should have gone home last night. You guys just smelled so good. Not like, I want to eat you, but like, I just want to be around you more."

"You can turn into a wolf," Jonathan said dumbly and plopped down beside him.

"Since when?" Nancy asked, moving to sit beside him as well.

"Since Starcourt," Steve said. "The stupid Russians wanted to make me obedient, but even they didn't know what they gave me. I guess they translated the message left behind wrong on whatever they found, and instead of studying it, they decided to shoot me full of it. I was certainly surprised when the first full moon came, and I transformed. Robin and Dustin happened to be spending the night at my house when it happened. It hurt like a son of a bitch, still does, except not so much apparently when I change back."

"You should have told us," Nancy said.

"What could you have done?" He asked. "There's no way to stop the pain, and I doubt there's a cure."

"We could have been there for you," Jonathan said and placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Joyce came in. She froze at the sight of a very naked Steve sitting between a shirtless Jonathan and Nancy, who was only wearing Jonathan's shirt.

"I heard voices. . .I thought you said that you were going to be out all night," Joyce said.

"Change of plans," he said sheepishly. "Mom, this isn't - ,"

"Oh, honey, I'm happy with whatever makes you happy, and he's just another person to love you," Joyce said. "No judgments from me."

"Mom!" Jonathan exclaimed. "No, that's what - he was a dog last night!"

"Oh, Jonathan, I'm supportive, but I don't need to know the details or what positions," she replied.

Jonathan glared at Nancy and Steve when they laughed.

"Mom! I swear this isn't what it looks like!" He protested.

"Oh, sweetheart. . .if you're not ready to tell me. . .you know, sometimes, I sleepwalk, and I don't remember a damn thing when I do," Joyce said and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Nancy and Steve collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"I hate you," Jonathan laughed.

"Shit!" Steve cursed, sitting up. "Dustin and Robin!"

A while later. . .

Jonathan and Nancy pulled up to the cabin, Steve rushing to get out of the car. He was in a pair of Jonathan's sweats and a t-shirt. They didn't quite fit, but it was enough. Robin and Dustin burst out of the cabin. Their eyes were red from crying.

"Where the hell were you?!" Robin yelled and threw her arms around his neck.

"You scared the hell out of us," Dustin said. "Never do that again!"

"What the hell happened?" Robin asked.

Jonathan and Nancy got out of the car, leaning against it, watching Robin with her arms still wrapped around Steve. He quickly explained to them what happened and profusely apologized for it, pulling Dustin into the hug as well.

"Well, we got you food. . .it's nothing but eggos, so you're just going to have to deal with that. . .asshole," Dustin said affectionately.

They stormed back inside, with Dustin coming up with theories about why Nancy and Jonathan smelled so good to Steve. He was about to follow them when Nancy pulled him back.

"Steve. . .you and Robin. . .," she trailed off.

"How close are you?" Jonathan asked.

"Oh! Robin and I are just friends. . .platonic with a capital p!" Steve exclaimed with a grin.

"And you're sure about that?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Steve asked.

"No reason," Nancy and Jonathan said together.

"So, uh, I didn't think to ask," Nancy said. "But do you want to find a cure?"

"I know that it's probably strange. . .but not really. I'm no longer partially deaf. My eyesight is better than ever, as well as my other senses, and I'm really strong," Steve said. "For the most part, I'm in control of my abilities. I really like it even though I've only transformed twice. . .there's a certain freedom in running as a wolf under the moonlight. . .through the trees. . .it's hard to describe how amazing it is."

"You said that it's painful to transform?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, that's the one thing that I wish I could change, but other than that," Steve said, smiling. "There's nothing like it."

"So, no clue why we smell so good to you?" Jonathan asked.

"None," Steve said.

"Well, maybe next time, Jonathan and I can go with you to the next full moon?" Nancy asked.

"If you want," Steve said. "By the way, what was it that you wanted to tell me? You mentioned something about that last night."

"Uh," Jonathan said, blushing. "We'll tell you later."

Steve smirked.

"You guys still smell really good when I'm in my human form," Steve said and grinned when they blushed.

Two weeks later. . .

Steve was looking around his living room, cursing as he tried to find the remote. Nancy and Jonathan were helping him.

"What's the point of my abilities if they can't find things?!" Steve exclaimed as he pulled up the cushions.

"I think they're supposed to be for hunting other animals," Nancy said.

"Listen," Steve said, gesturing with the cushions. "It takes everything I have not to chase after a squirrel. They're too cute. I'm not going to be responsible for killing Bambi or his mother."

"Yeah. I wouldn't make it long as a werewolf," Jonathan said.

"Luckily, Dustin found a way to put those hunting instincts towards something else," Steve said.

"Dog toys, though?" Nancy asked in amusement.

"It's effective," Steve said.

The three of them have been hanging out a lot over the last couple of weeks, with Robin occasionally joining them.

"By the way, I should thank you," Jonathan said. "Because my mother thinks the three of us are together, she's reconsidering making us move. Apparently, she doesn't have the heart to make her kids leave so many people they care about behind."

"You guys were going to move?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, that's what we wanted to talk to you about," Nancy said and looked at Jonathan. "That and other things."

Steve watched them. Nancy looked at Jonathan, giving him an encouraging look. Jonathan glanced at Nancy before shaking his head and looking at Steve. Nancy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Jonathan was backing down from something. Steve placed the cushions back down on the couch and sat back, resting on his knees. Kneeling before them, he looked at them both.

"Did I tell you that Robin and Dustin have a theory about why you smell so good to me?" Steve asked.

"No," Nancy said.

"Well, Dustin thinks along with my other senses that my emotions have been heightened as well. It's why I've been more protective of the kids and of Robin lately," Steve said. "And it's why I want to be around you more because before I was a werewolf, I had such strong feelings for both of you because of what happened between us. Dustin thinks it's purely out of friendship, but Robin thinks differently."

"And which one is right?" Nancy asked.

Steve swallowed thickly as he continued to gaze at them, still on his knees.

"Robin, definitely Robin," he replied. "And it made me realize something else, I want to belong to myself, too, but I also want to belong to you. . .to both of you. I want to be yours. I don't want to be obedient to anyone else but you, and when I think about you telling me what to do, not all the time, but sometimes. . .it's, uh. . ."

"Exciting?" Jonathan asked, his cheeks red and his eyes dark.

They moved closer to him. Nancy cupped his jaw, rubbing her thumb across his skin.

"Ours. . .yeah, definitely," Nancy said. "Jonathan?"

"You belong with us," Jonathan agreed softly.

Nancy squeezed Steve’s jaw gently and looked at him fiercely, her eyes just as dark as Jonathan's.

"Take off our clothes," Nancy demanded.

"Please," Jonathan said.

The warmth in Steve's stomach turned into a blazing fire. He loved the way they each made demands of him, each so differently. Jonathan was soft while Nancy was hard, and they both matched what Steve needed, but he also knew that they could reverse the roles when they needed to, but in this moment, it was just right. The remote lay forgotten underneath the other couch while Steve got busy taking off Nancy and Jonathan's clothing.

"Wait," Steve said, pausing. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"

"That we fucking love you," Jonathan laughed.

The end of September. . .

The end of September brought another full moon, and with it, another transformation. Nancy and Jonathan came with him last time, chasing him playfully through the woods. That one had ended much like this one, with Jonathan and Nancy both making love to him. Except this time, they were underneath Skull Rock and not on the floor of Hopper's cabin. Steve had been too caught up with Jonathan kissing him and the both of them running his hands down his naked body. All of his senses were overwhelmed. He didn't hear it until it was, too late.

"I know it should be here somewhere - oh fuck!" They heard a voice yell. "Sorry! I didn't think anyone would be here! I didn't see anything!"

Steve broke away with a growl, and he could feel his eyes flashing yellow. He grabbed a pair of sweats from Jonathan's backpack and ran off after the person. This person was fast, but even in human form, Steve was faster than ever before. He tackled the person to the ground and let out a howl, letting Nancy and Jonathan know that he caught the guy. He flipped him over, his eyes fading back to normal.

"What the fuck, man?" Eddie Munson asked. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

Steve growled and sat on Eddie, waiting for his owners.

"Don't move," Steve said.

"Look, I'm not going to judge you for whatever you've got going on with Wheelers and Byers - ," Eddie said.

Steve smelled Nancy and Jonathan before he heard them approach.

"Steve, get off of him!" Nancy commanded.

"He saw us!" Steve growled again.

"And we'll deal with that. Come to us!" Nancy yelled.

Steve huffed and got up off of Eddie. He stood in between Nancy and Jonathan.

"Good boy," Jonathan said and patted him on the butt.

"What the hell is he?" Eddie asked.

"I'm their boyfriend," Steve scoffed.

"Yeah, no, I got that, very clearly," Eddie rolled his eyes. "No, I mean why the fuck did your eyes turn yellow and why did you make those strange growling sounds?"

Steve cocked his head to the side, studying him and smelling him. He knew that Dustin, Mike, Will, and Lucas had already found a place among Hellfire. They had all bragged about his skills as a dungeon master and the fact that he had taken them under his wing. The kids were starting to trust him, and judging by the way he started to smell to Steve, like Robin, he would soon become a part of this pack.

"I'm a werewolf," Steve said.

"What?!" Eddie shrieked. "Fuck off, you're kidding me?!"

"Steve, are you sure about this?" Nancy asked.

"I can smell him. He can be trusted not to say anything," Steve said. "Right?"

"Of course, I mean, it's not like anyone is going to believe me," Eddie said. "How many people know about this?"

"Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Robin Buckley," Steve said. "Of course, these two and Jonathan's mom knows now as well as his siblings."

"Okay," Eddie said. "So, how the fuck did you get turned in a werewolf or were you just born that way?"

"I got turned, and that's all you need to know," Steve said.

"The only thing you also need to know is that strange things happen in this town, Eddie," Nancy said.

"And we're usually the ones who stop them," Jonathan said.

"We also usually kill them, but in this case. . .," Nancy said, grinning at Steve. "We like fucking this one. He belongs to us."

"And you're okay with that?" Eddie asked, looking at Steve as he finally stood up.

"Yeah, I like being theirs," Steve smiling softly.

"We have a connection because of Steve. We all belong to each other as much as we belong to ourselves, and we make it work," Nancy said. "Steve prefers to be obedient."

"So. . .it's a sex thing?" Eddie asked.

"And an intimacy thing," Nancy replied. "Feeling like you're not alone is one thing, but knowing you're not. . . it. . .it's something else."

She ran her fingers through Steve’s hair, enjoying the way he melted under her touch. Steve knew that it was just as much of a power trip for Nancy and that she loved making them both weak under her touch.

"Wow," Eddie said.

"We're freaks," Steve smiled proudly.

"The best people usually are," Jonathan said, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh in agreement, pausing for a moment to drink it all in.

"So, did anyone find a lighter?" Eddie asked, shaking his head. "I lost mine the other day. . .I didn't think anyone would be out here this early."

After Jonathan gave him the lighter he found, Eddie parted from them with promises to keep their secret. Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan watched him walk off.

"Yeah, I don't think we can come back here again," Steve said.

"But you loved it here, it's where you found us," Nancy said.

"Yeah, I know, we can still do it in the woods, but maybe we should keep it to the woods around Hopper's place," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Nancy said.

Who knows? Maybe the next person who stumbled upon them wouldn't be so understanding as Eddie.

A month later. . .

Steve burst into the Byers new house. They had just moved into the four bedroom, so there were still boxes scattered around. He managed to avoid them and ran into the kitchen where Jonathan was helping El with her homework.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think to knock," Steve said.

"I keep telling you that you don't have to," Jonathan said.

"Robin and I have finally found a job," Steve said sitting next to Jonathan.

"That's great. You two have been searching a while for someone to take you both," Jonathan said. "What's the job?"

"Family Video," Steve replied.

"Okay. . .but no giving my brother and his friends free videos, okay?" Jonathan asked and smirked when Steve gave him a surprised look. "Yeah, I know you helped them sneak into horror movies at Starcourt."

"Well, you know if Mike wants something, both El and Will can inflate their eyes. . .you just end up caving," Steve said. "Luckily, El wasn't there, or I'd end up just handing over my wallet."

"We do not inflate our eyes," El said but she was smiling.

"You do," Jonathan laughed. "You totally do."

"Still think I'm cute?" Steve asked Jonathan.

"Unfortunately, yeah," Jonathan said and kissed his cheek. "Try to be stronger next time."

"Steve?" El asked.

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" El asked, causing Jonathan and Steve to both smile at her.

"Oh. . .you know, I haven't really thought about it. I mean, I have thought about being a basketball coach," Steve said.

"Lucas said you would be great at that," El said.

"He did?" Steve asked.

"Yes, he has enjoyed playing with you," El replied.

"You could be a teacher, you know," Jonathan said.

"Yeah, right," Steve scoffed.

"Don't do that," Jonathan said. "You'd be a great teacher."

"How?" He asked.

"Well, you're really great at simplifying things for other people," he replied.

"You mean dumbing things down?" Steve asked.

"You are not dumb," El scowled and tapped him on the nose with her pencil.

"My sister's right, Steve, you aren't dumb. You look at something, make sense of it, and make it easier for other people," Jonathan said softly. "Nancy and I both wish you would believe in yourself more. It doesn't make you any less smart because you don't know something other people do. There are plenty of things that you know that we don't. You're a genius when it comes to statistics."

"You really helped me with my math the other day," El pointed out.

"Oh, that was - ," Steve started to say.

"Something that I did not know," El said.

"A math teacher and a basketball coach?" Jonathan asked. "That might be something to think about, too."

"You and Nancy just want to see me in those shorts," Steve said, and El snorted with laughter.

"There is absolutely nothing in it for us," Jonathan said seriously.

"Yeah, right," Steve said. "Even if I wanted to. . .I didn't get into college, let alone trade school."

"No, you didn't get into an Ivy league, but there are plenty of colleges that are reputable that aren't ivy, hell, they aren't even universities," Jonathan said. "You didn't apply to those because of your father. It was either the top or the bottom for him, although, of course, he considers trade school to be at the bottom. . .Hey, I know what it's like to have your father's voice try to live inside your head. Kick that fucker out. You don't know if you can do something until you try."

"I love you," Steve said fondly.

"I love you, too," Jonathan said.

"Maybe you, Nancy, and Robin can help me look through colleges together later," Steve said, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh, now you're trying to convince me to think about going to NYU," Jonathan said.

"All's fair in love and war, baby," Steve said. "Besides, it's been your dream since you like six, right?"

"Dreams can change," Jonathan said. "I never dreamed I would fall in love with both Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington at the same time, but I have. Sometimes, things don't always work out like you thought it would, and sometimes, things work out better than you ever dreamed. Whatever happens, whatever feels right at the time. . .I'll decide then. I'm not even sure that I even want to pursue NYU anymore. . .I don't know."

"Is it okay not to know yet?" El asked.

"We're still young, still figuring things out," Steve said. "Like Jonathan said, it doesn't make you any less smart just because you don't know something other people do."

"It is true," El grinned. "Dreams do change. Jonathan never thought his boyfriend would be a werewolf either."

"Or that he'd have a sister who was a badass cheerleader," Steve said.

"I am not quite there yet," El said. "But with Chrissy's help, I am getting there."

"Oh, Chrissy Cunningham?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Oh, she's a good egg, I'm glad she's taken you under her wing," Steve said.

"I do not like her boyfriend," El said seriously.

"Yeah, Carver's a total mouthbreather," Steve replied and El giggled.

Jonathan leaned his head onto Steve’s shoulder, smiling into it, and Steve kissed the top of his head before continuing to talk with El.

The night before and the day of Thanksgiving. . .

Steve was running through the forest, as fast as his leg could carry him. He was fast in human form, but he was even faster now in wolf form. He could still hear them shouting, and then he heard it. . . BANG! Steve whimpered as the bullet grazed his skin. Fuck. He had to keep going. Well, it looked like Hopper's cabin was no longer an option. Why the fuck were those assholes out there, anyway? Well, it was the night before Thanksgiving, and those assholes were clearly drunk. They weren't going to get his fucking pelt. He kept running until he could no longer hear them, could no longer smell Nancy, and Jonathan. He kept running. Another familiar scent caught his nose. It wasn't as strong as Nancy's or Jonathan's or even the rest of his pack but it was getting there. He followed the scent until he came to a trailer park. Eddie. He followed the scent to a trailer with a van out front and climbed up the steps, scratching at the door. Eddie opened the door.

"Shit! Fuck! A goddamn wolf. . .oh, you poor thing. . .have you been shot?" Eddie asked. "Come on in, Eddie will fix you up."

Steve realized that Eddie hadn't seen him in his wolf form yet. Steve flashed his eyes yellow and collapsed. He was exhausted. He let out a howl, hoping that Nancy and Jonathan could hear him, and then fell asleep in Eddie's arms.

"Steve!"

Steve’s eyes opened to find the sunlight peaking through Eddie's curtains. Shit, that's right, he had found himself at Eddie's when those assholes tried to kill him.

"Is he alright?" He heard Nancy asked.

"Yeah, I didn't need to stitch him up or anything. He already started to heal when he collapsed," Eddie said. "I think he was just tired. . .what the hell happened?"

"A couple of drunk hunters," Jonathan cursed. "We're going to have to find another place for him to transform."

Steve sat up and clutched Eddie's sheet tighter around him. Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie were standing in the doorway. Nancy and Jonathan moved to his side immediately.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, it was just a graze, and I think it's already closed," Steve said and pulled back the sheet slightly. "See?"

Nancy kissed him deeply before moving and letting Jonathan do the same.

"I'm glad you're okay," Nancy said softly.

"I wanted to stay and make sure - ," Steve said.

"But we told you to run, and you listened. Good boy," Nancy cooed and kissed him again.

"Thank you, man," Jonathan said to Eddie. "You have no idea how much this means to us."

"How did you know what to do, Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Well, I patched up my dad enough times after a bar fight, and then whenever I was here, I'd help out the wounded animals in the trailer park," Eddie said, shrugging.

"Impressive," Steve grinned. "Hey, if you're not doing anything for Thanksgiving, you're welcome to join us over at Jonathan's. I'm cooking."

"You are not," Jonathan said. "You were shot. I'm cooking."

"Who am I to argue with someone so pretty?" Steve asked, and Eddie snorted.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I'll be there. My uncle probably won't be. He worked the night shift, and he'll be home soon," Eddie said. "So, he'll be catching up on his sleep."

"Well, we'll make sure to save him some leftovers," Nancy said.

"That's awfully kind of you," Eddie said. "He'll appreciate that. Neither one of us knows how to cook."

Later that day. . .

Steve had immediately been engulfed in hugs when Jonathan and Nancy brought him to Jonathan's house that morning. They had been just as worried as his partners had been especially Robin, who refused to leave his side the rest of the day, and neither did Dustin when he arrived. Jonathan was making sure that Steve rested and didn't cook. Steve couldn't prove it, but he was pretty sure that Jonathan had stuck Robin and Dustin on him.

"Max is not coming," El announced with a pout as she sat down on the couch with Steve and the others, curling up next to Mike.

Steve frowned and shared a look with Nancy. She knew that she was having trouble with what happened with Billy over the summer, but she was also having trouble with El being a cheerleader. . .for whatever reason.

"I just don't get it. You're not going to end up like some of those other stuck-up cheerleaders," Mike said. "Not as long as you're friends with Chrissy."

"I think she is just sad," El said. "I do not believe that she really has a problem with it. I think it's an excuse."

"To push you away?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," El said.

"Well, I'm sure she'll reach out to you, just give her time," Nancy said and squeezed her knee. "That's really the only thing that you can do for her and let her know that you'll be there when she's ready."

"I will," El nodded.

"In the meantime, you invited Chrissy, right?" Nancy asked.

"I did," El beamed and turned to Joyce. "Is it okay that she brings her cousin, mama?"

Joyce, grinning like she always did when El called her that kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Of course, the more the merrier. We've got plenty, especially with the stuff that Steve snuck in and made," Joyce said.

"What?!" Jonathan yelled from the kitchen. "When did you cook?!"

"It was during that time that Nancy distracted you," Steve grinned.

"Nancy!" Jonathan yelled.

"What? I am not sorry. Steve’s sweet potato casserole is amazing," Nancy replied.

"Honestly, how did you think it got there?" Steve asked in amusement.

"I, uh, fuck! I don't know," Jonathan yelled and Steve smirked when he heard Will laugh from the kitchen.

Will insisted on helping Jonathan because someone who can cook should help him. El giggled and got up off the couch.

"I think I will go help my brothers," El said. "I could use the distraction."

It wasn't long before Chrissy showed up, and Joyce was showing her to the living room where everyone was watching the parade. Robin quickly dove behind the couch.

"Oh, no," Robin said. "Chrissy's cousin - ,"

"What?" Nancy asked. "Who is she?"

"Shit, that's Vickie," Steve grinned.

"I didn't know they were cousins," Robin hissed from behind them.

"Oh, Robin, she is cute," Nancy giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, adorable," Robin said. "Oh! I wasn't expecting this. . .do I look okay?"

"Hm, your hair could use a little work," Steve said seriously.

"Oh my god!" Robin gasped.

"Steve!" Nancy scolded. "Your hair looks fine, but you should probably get out from behind the couch or otherwise she's going to think you're hiding from her."

"I am hiding from her," Robin said.

"Yeah, but you don't want her to know that," Nancy pointed out.

"Found it!" Robin exclaimed, jumping up from behind the couch and holding up a ring. "I thought I lost it. I mean, I did lose it when I took it off and played with it. Of course, I dropped it and rolled right under the couch. I'm such a klutz."

"I am too," Vickie said in amusement.

"Yeah?" Robin asked, her cheeks pink.

"Hi, Robin," Vickie said sweetly, and Chrissy giggled.

"Hi," Robin said. "Happy bird eating day."

Nancy stuffed a knuckle into her mouth to stop the laugh from spilling out while Steve didn't bother. He leaned into his girlfriend.

"Are we laughing at the same thing?" Steve asked.

"Robin is also a bird," Nancy whispered, and they giggled causing Robin to glare at them both.

"Thank you for letting us come over for Thanksgiving, Mrs. Byers," Chrissy said. "My parents don't celebrate it."

"And my dad is out of town. A friend of his got into an accident and he's up there helping out," Vickie replied.

"Oh, yeah, the more the merrier," Joyce said. "And please, call me Joyce."

"My parents were unfortunately knocked out with our sister and the cold she brought home," Nancy said. "Or otherwise they'd be here."

"Oh, and my Auntie Kathy's boyfriend left her again," Dustin said. "So mom went up there to stop her drowning herself in a bottle of whiskey. . .she also told me not to say that part. . .oops."

"Hi, so, this is Robin, I'm Chrissy, I've heard so much - OW!" Chrissy exclaimed as Vickie accidentally elbowed her. "I mean, I've heard nothing about you. Nothing at all."

El came rushing into the room from the kitchen and into the room to greet Chrissy with a hug.

"Do you guys need any help in the kitchen?" Vickie asked.

"I think Jonathan does, but he does not want to admit it," El giggled.

"We're happy to help," Chrissy beamed.

Steve followed the girls where Jonathan and Will were panicking around the kitchen, trying to make sure nothing burned.

"What are you doing here? I told you to sit," Jonathan said.

"Yeah, well, you need help," Steve said. "I'm fine."

"Maybe, but I would feel better if I knew you were resting," Jonathan said. "You got shot. It's not something you just brush off."

"You got shot?" Chrissy asked.

"It was just a graze from a drunk hunter. Nancy, Jonathan, and I went on a walk last night," Steve said. "I'm fine."

"At least sit at the table," Jonathan said.

"Fine," Steve said.

Jonathan did it out of habit, Steve figured. He slapped Steve’s ass as Steve turned around.

"Good boy," Jonathan said.

Will and El froze while Jonathan looked at Steve with guilt.

"Did Jonathan just slap your butt?" Vickie asked. "I thought that it was a thing that jocks did to other jocks?"

"Oh. Well. . .uh," Jonathan said.

Steve smirked at Jonathan and winked, letting him know that it was okay with Chrissy and Vickie.

"It's fine, Chrissy knows about me," Steve reassured him.

"You finally found yourself a fella, Steve?" Chrissy asked.

"And a gal," Steve replied.

"Nancy and Jonathan?" Chrissy asked. "And you're all okay with the arrangement?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve and Jonathan said.

"I mean, I wasn't. At first," Jonathan said. "Before we got together, I was pretty much an asshole about it. . .especially towards Nancy. I mean, there's no denying that I said a lot of misogynistic things towards her for sleeping with Steve. I shamed her for it even though I didn't even know either one of them back then. I did and said a lot of things because of my shame towards my attraction to men and to men like Steve. I was arrogant back then, thought I was better than everyone because I all I could see was the bad in people. Steve and Nancy, though, they see the good in people and for whatever reason, they see it in me and they've decided that they want to be with me. Honestly, I don't know how I got so lucky."

"Because you're a good person who's made mistakes," Steve said. "You're a good brother. We love you."

Steve kissed him and sat down at the kitchen table. Jonathan stared at him, smiling, and almost burned the food if it hadn't been for Vickie stepping in. It wasn't long before Eddie showed up as well.

"It's a full house in here!" Steve heard his voice yell. "Here you go, Mrs. Byers."

"Are these flowers from the neighbor's yard?" Joyce asked.

"Nah, they just look like the same ones. . .okay, so they might be the same flowers," Eddie said. "Sorry."

"It's the thought that counts," they heard Joyce laugh. "Thank you for looking after our boy. I heard what you did for him."

"It wasn't a problem," Eddie replied. "Henderson!"

After a while, they brought together a bunch of tables into the kitchen when the food was finally done with a bunch of mismatched chairs to pull it together. Steve noticed that Chrissy ended up sitting next to Eddie, and he also noticed that it might have been a happy accident for the both of them. Although, much to Dustin's chagrin, Eddie ended up ignoring him in favor of Chrissy. Robin was happily sitting next to Vickie, while Mike talked with both El and Will, making them giggle. Steve sat in between in his two loves, rubbing Jonathan's back gently while he ate with his free hand. Everyone was smiling.

"Mom, you okay?" Jonathan asked Joyce.

"Yeah, I'm really glad that I decided not to move," she beamed.

"Me too," Jonathan said.

By the time the dessert was served, the Sinclairs had arrived just in time to hear the story of how Eddie got conned by his own father into robbing a truck full of drugs from a supply line driving through Hawkins.

- and I just got blackmailed out of school, I thought it would be better for Gareth, Ronnie, and Jeff if I got out Hawkins. That's what I thought, what I believed, because everyone looked at me, and all they could see was my father. All I was doing by running away was proving them right. It wasn't until the guys who came after my father tried to come after me, burned down my house, and shot Officer Moore, that I realized that no matter where I go the ghost of my father would always follow me. . .people were going to hate people like me. I couldn't run away like my father always ran away from me, so my father stole my van and left me with his mess, with my hand on Officer Moore to stop the bleeding. Because I stayed, Officer Moore lived, and I was grateful for that even though he had hated me. Later, I also realized that no matter where I went, those bullying and abusive assholes would always go after my friends, and I couldn't just leave them. Besides, all I really wanted to do was play music, and I think I so badly wanted to get out of there, I forgot that the most important thing. . .why I loved music. Because of my mom and that no matter where I was, that it was the music that could take me anywhere if just believed enough in it," Eddie finished. "If I believed enough in myself. . ."

"Wow," Chrissy breathed, staring at him. "I'm so sorry about Jason and his friends, I swear I keep telling him - ,"

"Why are you with him?" Eddie asked bluntly.

"My mother," Chrissy said and then she whispered in his ear.

Eddie frowned before leaning over and whispering back. Chrissy let out a gasp of delight and pressed a hand to her mouth. Whatever it was, it wasn't for their ears. Steve figured that Jason wasn't going to last long in Chrissy's life after this.

"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world," Eddie said, quoting the Hobbit and Steve couldn't help but agree, smiling at his pack. . .current members, new ones, and future ones alike.

Part Two coming as soon as possible. . .

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 30 - tennis player

pairing: tennis pro!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which he's surprisingly good at tennis and you're surprisingly terrible

word count: 1724

warnings: tennis, fluff, flirting

spence-tober masterlist

“Ugh!” You groan as you once again have to exit the closed in tennis court to retrieve another yellow tennis ball that you’ve managed to hit outside of the barriers surrounding the court.

With how much fetching you’ve been doing, you’re starting to feel like a golden retriever.

It was, however, entirely your fault as you are the one who keeps hitting the damn yellow bouncy tennis balls way out from their intended target within the kitchen of the tennis court and instead sailing high and wide and far over near the grassy area outside of the closed in tennis court.

Between your continued failings at hitting the ball correctly and the hot sun in which you are practicing in, you are completely regretting your previous decision to agree to the charity tournament proposed to you earlier in the month.

It was supposed to be a lighthearted tournament with the intention to raise money for charity through concessions, tickets, and the sponsoring on the players for the tournament. 

However, you doubt that anyone will want to sponsor you when you can’t even hit the ball inside of the court. 

Wii Tennis was not this hard, that’s all you have to say.

“Are you okay?” A voice is heard from behind you, where you’re crouching on the ground searching for the bright neon yellow tennis ball. With it’s vivid color, it really shouldn’t be this hard to find.

You stop your search and turn your head to see the person behind the voice.

Like you, he’s also dressed for what you assume to be a round or game of tennis. Sporting white shoes that are glazed in light green from grass over time and a matching white polo set with a tennis visor on his head, the man is dressed for the game. 

His chocolate brown hair sizzles under the heat of the sun and squinting from your own visor covered eyes, he has the matching brown eyes that gleam even though they aren’t exposed to the sun.

“Uh, yeah,” You answer, slightly caught off guard. This is the man the tournament organizers should have contacted to play. Even if he wasn’t very good at tennis, he certainly looked the part. And handsome too.

If you weren’t already slightly flushed from your time outside in the sun, you suspect a slight flush would brighten your cheeks just from the handsome individual.

“Just, um, struggling.” You say, finally spotting the yellow tennis ball just behind your own foot that dons similar white tennis sneakers. Only yours aren’t marked with the time and experience of green from the turf the same way his are.

You hold the tennis ball up to show him, for some reason, “I keep hitting it out of the court.” A sheepish smile makes its way onto your face as you explain shortly.

“Hitting a home run, you could say.” The man replies back, a friendly smile on his lips. “I’m Spencer.”

You return the smile and give him your name, “Not exactly the sport I was going for, but thank you.” If your hair wasn’t tucked out of the way of your face, you knew you would have touched it in some manner. Your friends always say it’s your flirt tell, playing or touching your hair.

“I could help you if you’d like.” Spencer offers kindly, “I was just about to hit the court myself.” His hand stretches outwards towards his back and pulls across his chest a strap revealing a tennis racket bag.

“Sure!” You accept happily, getting yourself out of the grass and properly standing up now. You dust off the itchy grass from your bottoms. “That’d be really helpful.” You say honestly as the two of you walk back to the tennis court and you gather your own racket in hand.

Otherwise, you’d usually be more cautious about accepting help from strangers, but you suppose Spencer couldn’t be worse at tennis than you and you really should receive any help you can get. You don’t want to necessarily embarrass yourself in front of the community during the tournament.

Comparing your racket and Spencer’s, the most obvious difference is the size difference. His hand is much larger than your’s and so the handle and overall racket is larger in size. There’s also the minute differences. The bandages around his handle is much more worn and even indented in time with a handprint. Your’s is brand new and without flaw. The only thing that could make it more glaringly obvious that your’s was newer is if the tag was still on it.

Thank god you remembered to cut it off before heading out the door this morning.

“Alright, so what seems to be the problem you’re having? Other than hitting it out.” Spencer says, standing a few paces away from you to watch your stance and motions.

You don’t say anything in response and instead just show him. You throw the ball up in the air and hit unreasonably hard, making it soar through the air. This time it didn’t go over the gate of the court and instead just hit the top of the fence before bouncing back down.

“You didn’t hit it out! Good job!” Spencer cheers genuinely with a large grin on his face from where he stands. You almost snort at the sight. 

“I’m terrible.” You proclaim, chuckling at Spencer’s sugar coating of the situation.

He laughs with you and saunters over, putting his racket down and drawing out a tennis ball of his own, handing it to you.

“No, you’re not. I’ve seen worse.” Spencer claims. You don’t believe him.

“Here, start by just bouncing it onto the ground and hit it that way.” He instructs you, “I think you’re not thinking about how hard you’re hitting the ball because you think you’re gonna miss it mid-air. You just need to get used to how much power you really need to hit it with and the rest will come to you.”

You nod, comprehending his words and doing what he says. When you hit it this time, you don’t have to worry about missing the ball and gently hit it. It still goes flying and doesn’t land within the kitchen where you need it to be, but it’s only a foot or so past the lines so you count it as a win.

“You did it!” Spencer cheers again.

“I did it!” You cheer along with him, both of you laughing in what is for you, surprise, and for him, genuine happiness.

You practice this motion more times under Spencer’s watchful eye and get better, just like he said you would. Eventually, you’re able to hit it within the kitchen and even once or twice hit it in air from a toss into the lines. Spencer also shows you a proper backhand and forehand. 

Before you know it, you and Spencer have practiced together for close to an hour before you decide to call for a break to get some water. The sun has moved from it’s position high in the sky and has disappeared behind some clouds, much to your pleasure. 

“Thank you for taking the time to help me. Really, it means a lot to me.” You say to him. The both of your backs are leaning against the fence of the tennis court, sipping on water from your brought bottles.

“I’m playing in a charity tournament.” You inform him for the first time. You hadn’t had much time for small talk when actively playing on the court. “You’ve just improved my odds of not embarrassing myself in front of everybody.” You laugh at the end of your sentence.

Instead of laughing with you, he looks at you with an amused expression with a hint of wonder.

“The charity tournament? The one being hosted in two weeks at the community center?” Spencer asks.

You nod and wonder as his eyes search your face if they catch your sweat licked face or your overly flushed colored cheeks. “One and a half weeks, actually.”

“I’m a judge in the tournament.”

Your eyes go wide and you search his face now for any sign of him lying. His eyes and expressions on his face say he’s telling the truth. It’s also hilariously funny that Spencer doesn’t have any impression that he was sweating.

“Not a judge exactly.” Spencer corrects, “More like a ref and face for the event?” He offers up instead.

“What do you mean face for the event?” You say, even more confused now.

A smile creeps up on his face and he ruffles around in his tennis gym bag before bringing out his phone. After a moment, he turns it around to you to see.

“Now, don’t think I’m narcissistic for googling my own name. I swear I’m only doing it to show you.” He says playfully.

Your eyes clock onto the screen and your gaze is fixated as you see what he shows you. It’s a standard google search with the bar displayed ‘spencer reid’. What you don’t expect is the literal Wikipedia page on him and the hundreds of thousands of search results that come up. 

“You’re a professional tennis player?” You blurt out, scanning the screen shown to you.

“Sort of professional.” Spencer corrects humbly. “I’ve never won the Grand Slam or the US Open or anything like that.”

You look at him deadpan, “This one article literally says you’re one of the top up and coming tennis stars.”

“Well,” Spencer starts to respond, but fails to come up with something this time, “I wouldn’t exactly use the term ‘star’.”

The both of you laugh together for a moment or two.

“I suppose you’re not allowed to coach players in the tournament, are you?” You ask him, an amused smile on your face which matches your joking tone.

He shrugs and doesn’t look the least bit worried, “I think it’d only be a problem if I were to try and, like, date you or something.”

You choke on the sip of water you were taking at his words and he gently pats your back as you cough through the mouthful of water that came back up. Only to not so gracefully snort some water out of your nose at his next words.

“Guess I’ll have to wait until after the tournament.”

a/n: once again, i am writing this the night before i need to post but i wouldn't have it any other way. i like feeling accomplished before i go to bed i guess? lol i might post a behind the scenes of this past month to explain my process, announce upcoming plans of my writing, and some bonus au's that just didn't work out.

[toxicanonymity]

I know your name is literally anonymity but I sometimes wonder what you look like or what you like or hate etc. I just would love to learn something personal about you 😭🫶🏼 but I respect you being absolutely anonymous here. It's actually a very big privilege!

And: do you have anything planned in writing/posting, something we can be excited for? I'm such a big fan of your work

Tysm nonnie! 🖤🖤 I'm happy to share some things about myself (below). Sometimes I wanna be less anonymous, but sadly it's served me well with how obsessive haters can get. You can always ask stuff though, I'd answer what i can and ignore what I'm hesitant about.

Thinking of posting some Narcos next ... Perhaps in the raid AU, perhaps not, I have nearly finished fics or drabbles in both. But i also started a kinda unhinged thighs out Joel scenario lol.

Likes & Dislikes without being a perfectionist...

Beverages

Like: water, grape juice, apple juice, chocolate milk, hot chocolate, matcha, ginger tea, caffeine free diet coke (fountain only) with cherry syrup

Dislike: alcohol, regular coffee, orange juice

Breakfast

Like: biscuits and gravy, egg white veggie omelets, green smoothies, croissants, waffles, yogurt parfait

Dislike: pancakes, jelly and jam, donuts

Comfort foods: egg in a hole, coconut soup

Fave condiments/spices/sauce/toppings: vinegar, mayo, mustard, sour cream, steak seasoning (like it on potatoes), apple pie spice, alabama white & North Carolina BBQ sauces, pesto, goat cheese, pizza sauce (w/ a spoon if good enough lol), Parmesan, sundried tomatos

Pasta: angel hair, capellini, tortellini, linguini

Crayola crayons (idk if they're all current). Colors go by the crayon when you draw with it.

Like: pacific blue, cerulean blue, brick red, burnt sienna, dandelion, hot magenta, earthworm scented

Dislike: cornflower blue, green-yellow

Smells/scents

Currently wearing: Nette La Forêt. I'm in an exploration phase and trying a variety but this is my fave rn.

Like: Woody, clean, fresh, eucalyptus, lavender, rose, burning wax / snuffed out candle, new shoes, leather, new tires, new car, tennis balls. Notes: amber, sandalwood, cetalox, vanilla

Dislike: Heavy citrus, anise/liquoriche

Sweets

Like: ice cream, froyo, brownies (no nuts), paletas (🥥 is a fave), lucky charms marshmallows

Dislike: Cake, cupcakes, caramel, oatmeal raisin cookies, anything with nuts or raisins really. I will pick them out of arroz con leche...

Actors

Make me more likely to watch something: Boyd Holbrook, Pedro Pascal, Kyle gallner, Bill and Alexander Skarsgård, Denzel Washington, Kate Winslet, Nicholas Cage, Adam Driver

Dislike: John krasinski, Adam Sandler, Meg Ryan

Appearance - heart shaped face, eyes on the larger side, dark circles, upturned nose, smaller lips. Sometimes glasses (favoring larger lenses)

I'm up for answering other categories or Qs if you're curious about random stuff. No-gos are work, family/partner, location, zodiac.

If I skip a tag game I prob overthought it or drew a blank.

[bedforddanes75]

my gf george. This is the hardlaunch or whatever its called

im gonna fight u. tshts literally MY WIFE. he is so awkward im gonna start crying please the neon yellow green tennis ball hat i love him so much im gonna puke his EYES he is literally a little puppy look at him he is a staffy if a staffy was a person im gonna bawl

[igathas]

i was today years old when i realised ITF call the colour of the tennis ball: optic yellow. optic yellow. the obvious insinuation is that it refers to the optical and the eye. but then is it due to its size and shape? funnily enough, on the online colour encyclopedia ColourHexa the optic yellow colour code is ccff00 and is described as 'fluorescent yellow or electric lime' which i find to be amusingly teetering the line between yellow and green again lmao

[heresmandie4u]

You Were Always There - 2

Warnings/Explicit 18+: none

Word Count: 2037

A/N: I actually love this story so much actually. I also was listening to Jack Black's band Tenacious D the whole time while writing this so excuse any mistakes.

You Were Always There Materlist

A week later, Gabe and Jennifer sat in two rolling chairs on the opposite sides of the room from each other in her office. They sat, throwing a yellow tennis ball back and forth. Jennifer sighed when she missed the ball and it bounced off into the corner of the room. Gabe smirked as she stood and walked over to grab it.

“Jennifer, there are two men here who want to see the body from yesterday.” Jennifer looked to where Gabe was quickly, worried that her coworker had seen him, but saw that he was already gone. “They say they are with the FBI.” Jannifer nodded.

“Ok, let them in.” Her coworker, a lady named Stacy waved to people she could not see and opened the door wide enough for them, closing it once they were inside. The two men were young, one significantly taller than the other. The shorter had spiked brown hair and green eyes that she could have stared at for days. The taller also had brown hair, though it was longer, going down to at least the middle of his neck. Both wore suits, the taller’s noticeably straighter. The shorter of the two spoke first, holding out a hand for her to shake.

“Hi, I’m Agent Vedder and this is my partner Agent Cornell,” Jennifer made a face at the names. Agent Cornell quickly flashed his ID and then shook her hand as well, smiling sweetly.

“So, you want to see yesterday’s body?” she asked and both men nodded. She grabbed gloves from a box beside her and walked to the refrigerators, opening one of the doors and pulling out the slide. This one was male, age 24 with black hair and brown eyes. He showed to be completely healthy except for the missing heart. The men examined the body, glancing at each other every couple of seconds. Jennifer watched them carefully.

“Can I ask,” Agent Cornell started, pointing to the chest. “Where is the heart?” She shrugged.

“They all have been coming in like this.” The shorter mumbled to himself softly.

“And do you have any idea what this could have been?” She pierced her lips, thinking.

“It had to be a person. I know that. The chest was stitched back up here,” she pointed to where she had cut the insition back open. “And the heart was ripped out. You can see here. The only reason I can think anyone would do that is sacrifice. But that was mainly Aztecs who did that.” Agent Vedder walked around the body next to her.

“What about something non-human? Something supernatural?” She scoffed.

“Heaven knows we have enough of that here. Are you trying to tell me this was aliens? You didn’t tell me you worked for the X-Files,” The shorter shook his head.

“Of course not. Not aliens. What kind of stories are in this area?” She stared.

“Other than the aliens? Not a whole ton. Some believe that the mountain is some world vertex. I don’t know about that though. Umm…” she walked to the pictures above her desk. “There are the Lumeriens,”

“Lumeriens?” She made her way back to the men.

“Yeah, they are just these giant people who have tunnels under the mountain. I guess that used to come from Lumeria. I don’t know where that is.” She started to slide the body back in. “They are these druid-like things, I think. But I’ve never heard of them sacrificing anything.” All three turned to the sound of the door opening.

“Dr. Winchester, there is another one,”

“Shit,” She pushed the body fully into the fridge and locked the door, hurrying around the room while getting things ready. She did not see the shocked look that the two men who called themselves Agent Vedder and Agent Cornell shared. “Bring it in” she called. “Thank you, Agents. I don’t know if you want to stay. It’s just going to be the same as the others. No heart and completely healthy.” The taller shook his head.

“No, that’s ok. Thank you… Dr. Winchester,” he waved at the shorter, who was staring at her, to follow.

Jennifer jerked the car door open roughly and fell inside. She sat without turning it on, thinking. Whatever this was made no sense. There was no pattern of time, place, or person except for all of the hearts missing. She could not work it out. The two agents asking if it could have been something supernatural did not help control her thoughts. Her phone rang suddenly, making her jump before she picked it up.

“Hey Jenny, I have to be in Sacramento tomorrow so I’m not going to be home tonight,” She nodded to herself.

“Ok. What time will you be back tomorrow?” She turned on the heater and started the car.

“I don’t know. I think late,” She could hear him sigh from the other side. “I’ve got to go. Bye,”

“Bye,” she hung up and began to drive.

Pulling into the driveway, Gabe sits on the steps, standing once he sees her. She climbs out and grabs her bags from the back, Gabe reaching over her to help. They walked inside together, falling onto the couch. A couple hours later, it was dark and Gabe was asleep beside her. She stood and went to the hallway closet.

She walked outside holding a blanket close to her chest. Flinging it out, she laid it out on the grass. She crawled to the ground and stretched out on her back, looking at the stars. She thought of all the things from when she was younger, back in high school with her closest friends. She remembered the feeling of loneliness. All of her friends had their boyfriends there. Her's couldn't go that night, so she sat alone. She eventually texted that one friend that she promised herself that she would not speak to again. She didn't forgive her, yet she did talk to her. Though it hurt, it felt almost normal. She missed those days. The days when she didn't feel like there was something missing. Some days, one of her friends would drive two or three of them home. She would sit in the back most often; often silent when the other two sat in the front, one yelling the heavy rap music out the window and the other giggling about how unhinged the other was. They would sometimes see one of their exes, the bad ones, and yell out the window at them. Most of the time it was simple things like “earthquake” or “I’m only 185, honey you put the decimal point in the wrong place”. Jennifer laughed softly to herself thinking about them.

“What’s got you giggling?” She looked over to where Gabe had spoken. He strolled over to her and laid down on the blanket, one arm behind his head.

“Just old memories,” She returned her eyes to the stars, watching as they twinkled brightly above.

“Tell me a memory. One of your favorites,” She glanced at him, smiling at the smirk on his face. She let out a breathy laugh.

“Ok. Umm…” she rustled through her memories, trying to find a perfect one to tell as a story. “Ok, so this was back in high school. I think it was the end of my sophomore year. I used to go over to one of my best friends’ house every day; her name was Micky. So, one Friday, I was spending the night because we were going to this school event later that night,” She sighed as she watched a shooting star pass overhead. “Micky’s younger sister and older sister’s friend were with us. Micky’s dad asked us what we wanted for dinner and they all said In-N-Out,”

“Are we going to get to an exciting part?”

“Will you be quiet?” Jennifer threw some grass at Gabe playfully. “Anyway… we all got in the car and they all had their shoes off. Don’t look at me like that. It was funny in the moment.” She went to pull up more grass and Gabe put his hand up defensively. “Lily, who is Micky’s younger sister, kept downing the thing where you put your hand up and say ‘hey’ in that voice but with her toes.” She demonstrated but with her hands, pulling one forward with her finger opening up as she said ‘hey’ that made Gabe laugh. “Anyway, all the way there, with four girls and one man, we listened to the girliest music. Like ‘Party in the USA’ and ‘Breaking Dishes’,” Gabe rolled over onto his stomach, laying his head on his arms while looking at her. “There was this old lady behind us in the drive-thru and Lily, Trin, and I kept turning around and looking at her and then Lily waved at her. There was this guy we knew from school working the window and when we pulled up Trin said ‘You forgot our shake’. He looked so confused and asked what shake,” Jennifer’s smile grew. “All Trin said was ‘shake that bootie’ and sunk down in her seat so fast,” Gabe chuckled at that. “See, it was funny. Nothing else really happened but we drove home all singing the songs and Micky’s dad made fun of a whole bunch of people. It was nothing really special; I just felt in the moment, you know?” Gabe nodded.

He opened his mouth to say something when a loud banging at the door interrupted him. Jennifer looked back to see the back door sitting open. She rolled her eyes at Gabe as she stood and headed to answer it. Standing outside were two tall men… the very men from earlier.

“Agents, what are you doing here? It’s,” She looked back at the clock hanging on the wall. “It’s 12. A little late to be out,”

“Sorry, Miss Winchester. We have reason to believe that you are in danger,” Jennifer raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“What?” She looked around to find Gabe to ask what he thought, but could not find him anywhere.

“Could we come in, please?” asked Agent Vedder. Jennifer nodded, opening the door wide enough for both to enter. Agent Cornell smiled politely as he passed her. She returned the smile, closing the door behind him and following them into the living room. “So, do you live here alone?” Agent Vedder asked, picking up a Las Vegas snow globe off the shelf.

“No, I live with my fiancee. He isn’t home tonight,” He nodded, continuing to pick things off the shelves and examine them. “I really don’t understand what is happening. What do you mean I am in danger?”

“It’s hard to explain Miss Winchester,” he paused a moment before saying her last name. “Can I ask you what happened to your parents?” Agent Vedder glared at his partner.

“I don’t know. I lived in an orphanage all my life.” She sat in the large blue armchair near the window. “Please try to explain whatever it is to me. Please. I deserve to know.” Agent Cornell looked to the other agent and shrugged. The other sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking.

“What do you know about demons?” Jennifer scrunched her nose.

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m in danger because of…demons?” Both men nodded. “I need a drink” she sighed. She stood and went to the kitchen grabbing three beers from the fridge. She walked back out to the men, handing them each one. “If you really think it’s demons, you definitely need a drink,” they sat in silence as they opened the beers and took their first drink. Jennifer looked into the bottle, trying to bring her thoughts together. “What I would like to know first, are your actual names,” Both men looked shocked at her words and looked at each other for a response.

“What do you me-”

“I know your names are not actually Vedder and Cornell. Are you guys on hunger strike or something? Do you have a black hole sun somewhere? Are you even flowing?” She knew what she had said made no sense, but she knew that the men would be caught with it. “I can’t trust you if I don’t even know your real names.” The tall let a breath out.

“I’m Sam. And he is my brother, Dean.” She nodded.

“Last names?”

“Winchester,”

[ciaossu-imagines]

So, for the aesthetics day of the event, I used one of the prompts for Riku from Eyeshield 21! I hope you all enjoy :)

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal.silver.gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold.steam. frost. lightning. sunlight.moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck.shoulders. legs. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison.guns.axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies.sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool.fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.ribbon.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals.seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef.beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes.turtles.ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves.unicorns. pegasus.dragons.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka.beer. coffee. sake. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. bird. Mangoes.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching.fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing.martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. drums. flute. bells. exploring.playing cards. poker chips. chess.dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. ankle boots. heels. leggings.trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets.doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sun glasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. hoodie. sweater. converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top. cuffed pants.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money.power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. alcohol. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer.autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village.

[silverior968]

Concept: An artist whose OCs from different eras of their life have to band together to save them (this is a story concept I actually plan to develop further)

[Image ID: A character line-up with 6 characters. The first character on the right is a young white woman with the text "The Artist, 20s, she/they. Lost in life (literally and metaphorically). She has green eyes and a sorrowful expression. Her hair is dyed blonde and pink, with dark brown roots. Her outfit consists of a black-and-white striped shirt, an ochre coat, a dark red skirt, black tights and black boots. She also has dark red lipstick. Next to her is a black sparklecat with white splotches. The text above the cat reads "Eclipse, 3 question marks in place of age, she/her. Cringe but free era. Cool and awesome, naive, fear of imperfection". She has one white angel wing with rainbow-colored feather tips, and a black-and-red demon wing. She has several scars and a small bottle of opalescent fluid worn as a necklace. There are white lilies on her tail and behind her ear. She has fangs and red horns, one of which is cracked, and a halo. She also has rainbow hair, and eyes with yellow whites, red irises and cross-shaped pupils. To her right is a young black girl with a magical girl outfit, drawn in a 2000s anime style. The text above her reads "Marina, 14 she/her. Magical girl era. Based on Artist's friend. Wants to see the best in everyone. Fear of being alone. She has dark brown eyes and her coily hair is tied in two ponytails with pink ribbons. Her outfit has white gloves and socks, pink shoes with bows on them, and a pink dress with puffy sleeves and a ruffled collar. There's a large pink bow on the back of the dress. To her right is a white guy with blue eyes and dark brown hair, half in a ponytail with an undercut. The text above him reads "Xavier, 19, he/him. Boring anti-cringe era. Sarcastic but hard to trick. Fear of ridicule. He has gold earrings, a white t-shirt, a blue flannel and dark blue skinny jeans, along with black-and-white tennis shoes. There are black headphones on his shoulders. To his right is a humanoid robot with a purple, white and yellow color scheme. Above them is the text "Victory, 18, he/they. Robot era, enthusiastic, fear of inadequacy". He's grinning and winking, with one arm raised in a bicep-flex. He has dark scleras with glowing yellow pupils. There are plates resembling a popped collar on his torso, along with a glowing yellow core. On his head there are golden plates resembling a laurel wreath, and on his ankles he has gold plates that resemble Hermes' sandals. Similar gold plates make up his kneecaps. To their right is a character with a ball of green fire with glowing white eyes for a head. The text above them reads "Wormwood, 38, they/them. Amnesiac due to story being unfinished." They are wearing a white cravat, and a long black coat with green linings and a popped collar. They seem very muscular, and have black gloves. Their legs are entirely black, seemingly having the silhouette of high-heeled boots. Their coat is double-breasted with six white buttons. Overlayed over the whole image is the artist's signature "Silverior968" in opaque black. / End ID]

[freetobezii]

We love tennis ball yellow. It's almost green, but it's not! Lol human eyes are so funny when we all have different brains to enjoy colours through.

First look I thought yellow, yellow, orange. But it was not an option. So I settled for yellow all round 8D. I forget caution tape is normally yellow but against the bright contrast of the other two it shifts orange to me.

green, green, yellow. on god. this isn't a clickbait "obvious answer" poll i am sincerely losing my mind people have been making fun of me for a year at this point. please. im gonna move to antarctica

[jonquildove]

starkmatriarch:

You will be a far better queen than Cersei Baratheon, Catelyn thought, wishing that her daughter did not place such weight upon the lioness. Cersei moved with grace and carried a remarkable beauty, but she was cold and her eyes appeared to hold nothing but secrets and darkness. She moved lithely, with her green eyes glowing in the darkness, her yellow mane of hair in a southron braid. Catelyn did not trust Cersei, as she trusted no Lannister, and she wished that her daughter would be as cautious. Yet since Robert and Ned were good friends, she met with the Lannisters more oft than she had wished, they hanging out in dates like tennis playing. Robert was strong and handsome, hitting the green soft tennis ball with its green hair shining in the morning, very well with the racquet, to where Ned was, on the other side of the net. She wishing her daughter did not braid her hair, as now she may haunt her dreams. Ned was more traumatised ever since he came back from the war, despite him winning and trying to see what he had won. He sometimes scared her, as he experiences nightmares of the cries of the Targaryens and his men alike, thinking it terrible Jaime would slay Aerys like that, as he was the King's Hand. He had walked to the throne room, going inside, as Aerys huddled in the darkness, frightened and scared, he ordering guards at the door which he said to built strong iron on. Jaime, having sided with Robert now, had gotten a battering ram with a sharp steel hook, to bang down the door. He then killed Aerys, where he sat on the throne. I just want to do well and support you, Cat, he had said when sitting at the mountain side with her, she brushing the hair from his face. She knew he felt guilt for abandoning her at her time of need, abandoning her when she fell pregnant, yet he had not known nor she him, otherwise he would not have gone off to war. Once, when Sansa was typing on her fashion blog on her laptop, someone had commented something mean to her, saying she looked ugly in her dress, and he had seen her cry -- he angry, as he sees her screen to where her blog was open of the computer through the black rune stones with golden letterings. She was to marry into the family, of that she knew there was but little choice, Ned saying Robert had merely asked him if Sansa and Joffrey to marry when down in the crypts of Winterfell, but she did not desire Sansa to enter such a union blind to the Lannisters’ true nature. “They will love you, my girl,” Catelyn assured Sansa, never more certain of anything in her life. Sansa was kind and gentle, a pure soul who anyone would warm to. As Queen, she would be loved, she would be admired. “Of that I have no doubt, but you must look to your Father as example. How to lead, how to be fair and just” Ned always treated those who worked for him well, he now working as the Hand for the King, and there was honour in all that he did, including once being a taxi driver, he driving people to where they would like to travel. He did not make any decision lightly, yet with far more tremor since the war which had broken him in all his strain to be honourable, for every decision had a direct effect upon someone and thus must be taken with heavy consideration and deliberation. Ned was who Sansa should turn to in her aspirations to be a good Queen, not Cersei. Ned would show her how to be just and true, Cersei would only show her power. She was an ambitious queen.

“Thank you, Mother…” Sansa smiled radiantly, at how certain her lady mother seemed about that. She nodded. “Yes, Father is very honourable and just…” She recalled all the deeds he did, and also remembered that he had to chop a man’s head off, for the punishment of deserting the Wall. It had been a white walker, a wight, the man had clamoured in breath, she not believing his words, for weren't white walkers gone? Just a story Old Nan spoke of, along with the elves and children whom wandered the forest in the age before the men. She hadn’t been there at the time, but she’d heard about it from her brothers. She remembered him saying once to Robb something similar to the lines of; the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. The man had not felt safe around her father, she knew, as he had not believed him. Father was a bit crazy at times, he wanting to meet the boy who said a cruel word about her fashion pose, saying he had an annoying voice. She admired Cersei so, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to learn more from her father as well. “I would like that very much…is Father busy, at the moment?”

[lovethewayyoudoso]

Hobbies

Fun little blurb about the boys fairly early in their relationship.

~1200 words (2 pages)

-

“What do you do for fun? You know, those days you’re not either across the world at a tradeshow or at some fancy party.” Toshiya rolled his basketball on the ground between his feet. He was taking a break, sitting on the pavement with his arms behind him to prop himself up. Yellow sleeveless gymshirt over mid-thigh red shorts, both red socks recently tugged back up over his ankles before they were lost in his tried-and-true sneakers. His hair was pushed back off his sweaty forehead, a recently emptied water bottle nearby. He looked over Rosaire with contented eyes, happy to visit with his man if only for a short while.

Rosaire found himself kneeling nearby, his briefcase fallen over and sunglasses tucked on his shirt collar. He was in a fine charcoal suit, his shirt and tie both different shades of blue. It was a particularly masculine look that was completely betrayed by his designer boots and the fine, custom jewelery adorning his neck and ears. Even the little speck of a piercing on his nose had been swapped from the usual gold for a small blue gemstone. “Other than go out with you?” Full lips smirked, eyebrows rising.

“Well, that’s a full time hobby for sure… but…” He tilted his chin up with a smug little smile, as if beckoning for a little peck of a kiss that never came. Instead Rosaire grabbed hold of one of Toshiya’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze before letting his hand trail down to rest on a delightfully swollen bicep.

“I don’t have much time these days… I guess I mostly just hang out on social media.” He paused and looked over the other man. “I suppose I’ve never really had any hobbies that weren’t some form of socializing.”

“Really? No art or sports--”

“Do I look like I play sports?”

“Well,” Toshiya reached up with his opposite hand and laid thick fingers on the fine ones that held his arm. “You’d probably make a good tennis player, golfer… gymnast? I’ve seen the way you can bend…”

“Toshiya…”

Another cheeky smile. “Video games?”

“When would I have the time?”

“Card games or board games or-- ooh, what about tabletop games?”

“No, no, and definitely no.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe we need to try something new together? Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to try? I could show you how to play ball! I’m not very good at shooting though, more of a defense player…”

Rosaire chuckled as he checked his watch, “Can you imagine me trying to throw a ball all the way up there?” He nodded toward the half-court’s hoop. “I think I’d dislocated a shoulder in the process of aiming.”

“Oh, come on…”

“And I don’t have much of an eye for the arts, to answer your earlier question. I tried writing and painting at various points in my life on the advice of my therapist and I kind of feel like it made things worse.”

“Isn’t art supposed to be subjective? Or an outlet for your emotions? It’s not supposed to be perfect afterall!”

“Toshiya, I went to mix the blue and the green to make teal and I somehow ended up with brown. Pretty sure the canvas was going to catch fire if I kept at it long enough…”

A small chuckle and Toshiya propped an ankle on his basketball to prevent it from escaping. He leaned over and far more directly gestured for a small kiss. “I can teach you calligraphy. I do that, you know?”

“Do you now?” The hint was taken and the pair joined briefly at the lips.

“Oh yeah! Takes a steady hand but it’s… you know, meditation.”

“Hmm,” he looked down at his watch one more time. “You know, I … actually do have one hobby.” Blue eyes looked back up to catch black-brown eyes watched him with a small blush on his cheeks. “But…”

“But..?”

Sigh. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I would never. As long as it’s not stamp collecting.”

“... It’s philately.”

“… what?”

"Stamp collecting."

A light chuckle but Toshiya realized the other was being serious. “Really?”

“Really. It’s quite the impressive collection, I must say.”

“I… you’re going to have to show me this collection next time I’m over.”

“So you can laugh at it?” Rosaire stood up and tidied his suit, finding his briefcase once more and dusting it off. Right behind him was Toshiya rising to his feet. He looked far more serious now, definitely trying his best not to chuckle in disbelief.

“No, I want to see it! I mean, you know, I was joking when I said that, but if that’s really your hobby then I want to check it out!” He pushed his hair back over his head once more, adjusting himself before putting both hands on his man’s shoulders, sliding down his arms to coax his hands into a loving grasp. “Do you really have to go already?”

“I do; I’m sure Louissant is getting antsy to leave for the airport.”

Toshiya sighed and leaned down to provide a kiss, and another. They had already said their formal goodbye the night before but the men just had to visit once more before yet another multi-day business trip took Rosaire away. “I’m serious, Ros. Show me your collection when you get home, and I’ll bring over my portfolio of calligraphy!”

“You have a portfolio? For what purpose?” Long brown braids hung over one shoulder as Rosaire tilted his head with a smirk, receiving another small kiss.

“I wanted to start a video channel about it. You know, on YouTube! But you know me, I don't know how any of those things work online… I gave up before I started.”

“Mmm, well, when I get back we can share those, hmm?”

“After we share a little something else…” Another kiss, pulled into an embrace for a final farewell. Rosare looked up at his man with a little smirk, which was given the reply of playfully raised eyebrows. “I’ll miss the way you look at me when I’m being embarassing.”

“Let me know when I need to send a selfie with that exact expression.”

“You’ll use up all your data!”

Rosaire chuckled and offered one last kiss and, “I’ll see you in a few days, Toshiya,” before he slipped on his sunglasses and departed for where his gleaming white car was waiting. A little wave, and blown kiss from the court up to the car, and once the shorter man was gone Toshiya turned around and retrieved his basketball.

A few dribbles and he shook his head, “Stamp collecting?” He shot at the hoop and completely missed.

-