#as sad as it is but those last months showed me too often what is to much for me

[myheartxmyman]

While I am losing time with writing of you, of us, you are adding once again new people. Feels like the never ending story. Meanwhile my mind is directly split between two possibilities. First 'oh wow seems like he was working late and met some new people/someone new' and the second is 'oh, we haven't seen each other in quite some time so now he's feeling the urge of getting what he wants from somewhere else. One way is going to work at a place where he could meet someone at that time of night, second is hes alone in his bed getting himself of to the women with high potential, girls he came to notice and somehow never seems to forget. Females who are living 'next door', but also the cheapest influencer bitches, oh and sometimes the best of both.. A combination of a wanna be hn influencer with more naked skin shown than fetish clothing on.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[neoarchipelago]

Cotton candy pacifier

A/N: Was this scheduled? No. Did I wrote it? Yes. I have a blank page problem right now and went out to an amusement park last weekend. My own hormones have made me fantasize and throw together this shit. Please have mercy on me at this point.

Warnings: (f! Reader x Simon) ADULT CONTENT. 18+ pregancy talk, breeding kink, cursing, p in v. Oral receiving. Slight blood, biting.

Simon never wanted to be a father. Too much baggage and trauma, too much fear of never having a good role model to be a good father. You had talked about it. You had long conversations. And even if you were understanding, accepted this fate, saying that he was all you could ever wish for, words hitting him like a mix of pain and pleasure, he saw the hint of sadness behind your eyes. 

He had tried to be extremely soft, and passionate for months after those discussions, trying to show you how much he loved you. 

So here he was. Black t-shirt tight around his torso, mask on and black cargo pants. Looking at the large group of recruits in front of him. Price Laswell and another higher up beside him as the last warnings were given. 

Soldiers and their families had been offered a full day at an amusement park the military had privatized for the occasion. 

As much as he tried to remain professional, his eyes often turned to you, pretty little excitement sprawled across your face, almost jumping in place. Jeans shorts and tank top with your little backpack, hair messily tied up. Soap was a menace next to you, already giving him a headache. But you were such a lovely sight. 

When finally, the briefing was over and everyone made their merry way into the park, Price, Laswell and Ghost walked towards the group. Laswell joined her wife and so did Price, the two little munchkins jumping at the sight of their dad. You immediately rushed to Ghost's side as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Soap was practically bursting at the seams with excitement, gaz not too far behind causing Price's kids to be overexcited. Ghost sent them a warning look before everyone headed for the first attraction. 

The morning went smoothly, Soap and Gaz betting on who would handle the worst roller coasters while Price and his wife indulged in some of them, as you accepted to look over the kids during the ride time. The kids were thrilled to simply spend time with their Uncle Ghost, sometimes joined by Soap and Gaz, for small carousels or mild roller coasters. The parents were thankful and indulged in some time without taking care of the kids too much. 

It was what first started bugging him. The way you were happily cleaning up Kyle's chin as ice cream had dripped down. The look in your eyes made something burn in him. Or the way the little Lily munched on a few fries in your arms while you made sure her little hat was secured and her skin hadn't been too touched by the sun. 

He didn't mind at all John's kids. He even liked spending time and taking care of them, feeling a sense of protectiveness over the small cute beings. He sometimes grumbled that Soap and Gaz were even harder to take care of than John's well behaved kids. 

Something else bothered him. Not the little heart strings being pulled when he saw you smiled at him when he won two plushies for the kids. He was almost sure you looked at him with something between happiness, adoration and pure fucking need. He was almost taken aback by it but also by the way he absolutely adored seeing that look on your face. That same look that seemed to show up more and more through the day, as he held Kyle on his shoulders, or held Lily as she fed on her bottle.

But it vanished quite quickly. When another recruit whispered to you that the lieutenant seemed to be the perfect dad and you two would be amazing parents. He had heard. Of course he did. He was a trained soldier with years of experience and trauma. 

After that, you had avoided eye contact when he held up the kid unless it was a polite smile or kind smile. You'd turn to the child in his hold for something but ignore his gaze on you. You weren't exactly sad. Something else was laced with your new avoidance. It was growing on his nerves. That and the new intrusive thoughts of you, holding a child. The image far in his mind, a high resemblance with you and a mix of him. 

He could feel his fists clench as the images rushed through his mind. You, glowing under the sun, swollen with his child. The idea mixed with his fear. He tried to pull you closer to him as you held the little girl, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as the little girl reached for his mask without an ounce of fear in her eyes. He could feel your breath hitch and the shiver that ran through you. His hand reached for the little girl's cheek, barely pinching, making the girl giggle. The soft skin against rough calloused one, hands that saw more horrors than the child would ever witness. 

"S..Simon?" You stuttered, turning your head to send a questioning look. 

He didn't answer, only dropping a kiss on your head through the mask. The idea crept in his mind, nesting there and haunting his mind. Price noticed. Of course he did. He knew Simon all too well, even through the mask. 

"Ghost. What's on your mind?" He asked, sitting on the bench next to him. 

Simon remained silent, eyes looking at you as you ate the soft cloudy pink thing in your hand. 

"If you keep looking at her like that she'll notice." He teased. 

"She wants kids." Simon blurted out. 

"And you don't.." Price deduced. Simon groaned, closing his eyes. "Simon. Talk to me." Price added. 

"I… shit." Simon felt the frustration grow. "I'll never be a good father. Fuck. I don't know what's a good father." 

"Now you're hurting my pride and feelings." Price added. 

Simon's head snapped towards the man who arbourded one of his signature smiles. 

"I didn't mean… Price, you're an amazing father." Simon caught himself. 

"I wouldn't say amazing. No one's perfect." He clarified, straightening himself. "But I try." He smirked. "Simon. It is your decision whether or not you want to have kids, and her decisions to accept it or not. But don't take that decision based on your past. You are not that man." He said, eyes locking into Simon's one. "I'd like to think, I raised you all to be better than that." He joked. 

He was right. Price was the closest thing to a father he ever had. The best role model he could think of. It didn't erase the fear of it all. But a tiny part of his brain was unlocked, one that might see himself with a baby later on. Price patted his back, smiling again before getting up to join his wife. Simon tried to look at you, falling into your pretty eyes. He frowned at the worried look on your features. He straightened himself, subtly patting his thigh. He cursed under his breath watching you obediently skip to him to sit on his lap. 

"Are you.. ok, Simon?" You asked, a low voice. 

"I'm ok baby. Are you ok love? " he asked as well. You looked away for a second, making him slightly squeeze your thigh. "Talk to me Y/N." He insisted. 

You bit your lip before looking up at him with your pretty soft eyes. 

"I'm sorry…" you whispered. 

"You're sorry baby?" He frowned. "Tell me why." 

"For.. I mean.. I've been with the kids all day so far.." you stumbled on your explanation. 

"Yes. You have, why are you apologizing about that?" He was confused. 

"I know… you don't want kids… we've talked about it. I don't want to annoy you by playing mama-" 

He groaned, eyes shutting closed. Images of you playing 'mama' making his cock twitch in his pants. Now where did this new attraction come from? 

"I'm sorry Simon!" You whined. His eyes snapped open.

"No baby. I'm not mad. I'm not annoyed.. don't think that." He reassured, his hand leaving your thigh to softly caress your cheek. 

"You're… not?" You asked, a slight hint of relief in your voice. 

"Of course not baby. Shit… you've been.. beautiful, playing mama.." he hissed. 

He watched you blink, with a little shocked expression on your face. You tilted your head slightly. 

"What..?" You asked. 

"So fucking pretty… with Lily at your hip.." Simon groaned again, face burying in your neck, his pants getting uncomfortable. You shivered slightly. 

"S-simon…" you whined a bit. "There's… people…" 

As if on cue with your words, his hand caressed your thighs, featherlight fingers up and down your skin, sometimes too close to the burning heat growing in between your legs. He was supposed to behave. Just like he had instructed the recruits this morning at the briefing. But you looked tempting. And the new images in his head, him fucking his seed deep in you, with the slight possibility of watching you later on with your own baby. He was a pleaser after all. Your hands squeezed slightly his shoulders, trying to squirm nearer to him. 

"Fuck.." he cursed against your neck. "Need you baby.." he growled against your ear. 

"We… the car.." you tried, making him grin at your already hazy mind, just from the thought of him fucking you. 

"No. Too long." He shook his head. He tapped your thigh lightly to make you stand, as you looked at him with a questioning look. He intertwined the tip of your fingers with his, barely pulling you forwards in front of him, your obvious compliance making him eager. He made you walk, sending a last glance to the group as Price caught his eye, shaking his head playfully at him. 

His hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the nearest 'staff only' door. 

"S..sir, you can't-" 

Simon threw a death glare to the poor employee who simply walked away, pretending not to have seen anything. You were softly pushed inside, the door closing behind the both of you.

"Simon-" 

He had already lifted his mask above his nose, hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed your lips softly. A sigh escaped him, as if he finally felt the tension release from his muscles. You stepped closer to him, hands on his chest, a burning touch that made him crave more. Perhaps you were the sun, burning brightly for him, and he was Icarus, with the only goal to fly to you, no matter if you burn down his wings. He made sure to wrap his arm around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he pushed you back against the wall. Once he was sure you were safely against the wall, his hands now caressed your body freely, pushing and pulling at your clothes, only aching to feel your skin against his. 

You were already whimpering, your hands slipping under his shirt, nails softly scratching his lower back giving him goosebumps. He ached for more. Needed to feel you. His hand pulled on your top with a rougher pull, freeing your perky breast. 

"Simon! Someone could… walk in-" your complaints turned into a moan as his mouth found your sensitive nipple. You pushed forward your chest, giving him more access. 

"So willing for me princess…" he groaned against your skin. You whined, hand at the back of his neck, trying your best to stifle your moan. His cock was painfully hard, images of you pregnant with his child only bringing him over the edge of control. He kneeled suddenly as you gasped, his hands undoing your short's button and zipper with expertise before pulling them down with your panties. He lifted one of your legs making you grab onto his shoulders to keep balance. 

"Need to taste you.." 

His hands hooked under your legs, wrapping around your ass before he planted a soft kiss on your naked lips. He could almost make such a sinful act look like the purest of them all. His eyes looked up at you, the sight of him down on his knees, mouth against your already soaked pussy made you whine pornographicly. His eyes were firmly planted into yours as his tongue slowly darted out, almost lazily, licking a stripe across your folds, not dipping in. You whimpered at the sight, your hands meeting the side of his face as you looked down at him lovingly, abandon written all over your gaze. 

He groaned, closing his eyes, feeling unworthy of such dedication. His tongue pushed past your lips, tasting you as he groaned, feeling the wetness of his boxers as his cock leaked precum. He swirled the tip of his tongue on your puffy clit a few times, delicately before losing once again all control. He ate you like his life depended on it, his hips thrusting forwards slightly at a higher moan from you. 

"Simon!" You hissed, scolding him from making you be so loud. 

You weren't truly mad. How could you when his tongue was dragging you to the pits of hell where he sat on his throne ready to fuck you just like you like it. He was your devil, your beast, the one you'd happily sin for, give in your soul and life to. You shut your eyes, feeling the familiar high approaching. You whined his name, but he knew. Of course he knew. One would say you were an open book to him. He'd say you were a holy scripture. You'd say that he was the only one able to decipher you. 

When you felt your body shake, stars behind your eyelids from pleasure and your hand hitting the wall behind, Simon's grip tightened on you, making sure to hold you up. You were panting when he pulled back, licking his lips greedily. He let his forehead fall against your stomach as his fingers traced down lazily to your still pulsating pussy. Two fingers at your entrance, toying with you before slowly pushing inside. 

"Simon… ah.. please.." you moaned, unable to keep your level down. 

He thrusted slowly, making sure to stretch you slightly, preparing your tightness to him. The impatience was killing him. Now was too much. His fingers left your heat, his tongue lapping at his fingers as he moaned against them. He got up, kissing you again, tongue demanding and dominating. His hand flew to his belt unbuckling it single handedly without breaking the kiss. Your breath hitched at the sound of it. 

"Need to have you now… need to fuck you.." he said, his voice deeper and tone darker. The heavy contrast with the screams and laughter from outside of the door. Yes. Your devil. 

But as he lifted you up, hands hooking underneath your knees, his tip at your entrance- when did he even?!- you snapped into reality. 

"Simon wait! We don't have any condoms!" You yelped. 

Condoms? Ah yes… you had stopped the pill two months ago for some hormonal problem. Shit… his mind went blank, neurons gone to play cards or something while the little naughty thoughts of his newly found kinks spurred his nerves. He bottomed out in one thrust, your wetness helping but the stretch and burn still present as you yelped. 

"Si.." you tried to shake him out of his trance. 

"Shh.. baby, let go… it's ok…" he shushed, hips thrusting up into slow movements, easing the burn and letting his fat cock rub against your walls the way he knows you like it. You were trying to keep a stern face, trying to scold him, but you'd lie if you'd say his behavior didn't truly turn you on. The position only helped him grind your clit, sending little electricity waves up your spine. When he finally had your brain into a cockdrunk mush, he grinned, picking up the pace. Your hands holding on to dear life around his shoulders as you whined and moaned loudly, eyes glossy and brows furrowed in a little pout. 

"That's it baby… good girl… god you look so pretty, fuck, look so pretty taking this fat cock…" he groaned, making you squeeze around him, second orgasm way too close already. How did he even get you there so fast? He was damned skilled but shit… the way he looked at you. Logic gone, pupils dilated, muscles flexing underneath your palms. He looked ready to devour you… or devote himself to you. At this point you were sure both were knotted into a messy curse. What had happened to have him completely lose himself? Risk it all for a wild fuck? 

A ping sadness coursed through you, probably flashing through your eyes as he thrusted deeper once to grab your attention. 

"What's wrong baby?" He panted, slowing down his pace to slow, longing thrusts. 

"You're… ah…Si… you're risking.. a lot…" you whined, trying to focus through the pleasure. He was. He definitely was. And he loved it. Loved the idea to fill you up with his seed and pump you full until he was sure to see you round with his- 

"God.. fuck." He cursed loudly, craving giving him goosebumps as he slammed roughly into you. His mind was dirty talking him into a mess. "Yes. Shit. I'm risking it. I want it. Fuck. I need it." He chanted. 

The heat rose to your cheeks, you didn't know if his words did something, but you came hard, unable to keep the loud moan echoing through the room. 

"Wh..what..? Simon!" You tried to gather your thoughts. 

A little tsk escaped him. Now that wouldn't do. He needed to up his game. You were thinking too much. His face was close to yours. Eyes boring into your very soul that you knew he had a chokehold on. 

"Did I fucking stutter? You've been so pretty today…" he growled. "Acting like a mama with the kids… shit… been trying to stop myself from bending you over the, fuuuck… nearest surface just to breed this pretty little cunt.." you were going to talk. Say something but he cut you off. "We'll talk… not now… focus on me. Let me make you feel good… enjoy the feeling… the idea of me stuffing you full of my cum.." he rasped against the skin of your neck. 

A curse, a jinx. Perhaps a devil but also some old god that came to ensnare you. You obeyed. Willingly give in. Entrusting him. The idea blooming in your mind, his eyes trapping you in that familiar feeling of no one else in the world but the two of you. No more laughs and screaming from outside. Nothing more but the two of you, the feeling of his length splitting you open at a reckless pace. 

"Good girl… there you go.." he praised, feeling you relax in his arms, finally unable to think of anything else but him. Your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, the grinding of your clit making you jolt slightly, tears overwhelming you. 

"S'good.. so… good…" you whined, tears running down your cheeks now. 

"Yes baby… shit, so fucking good… you're doing good." His thrusts were sloppier, the sound of skin slapping and the sound of wetness filled the air. You were going to cum again, that one would wreck you. But wasn't this Simon's favorite pastime? Wreck you. Ruin you until the only thing on your mind is him. 

"Si-" you moaned hiding in his neck. 

"I know baby… I know… me too… s'close.." he moaned as he let his head back, giving you access to his neck. You nudged the fabric of the mask with your nose, just enough to show skin you could sink your teeth into as he made you bounce on his cock like you weighed nothing. 

"You gonna cum for me? Milk my cock deep in you?" You moaned pitifully as an answer. "Yes you are mama… make me so proud of how well you're taking me…" 

His new found nickname he found for you made something in you snap. You sank your teeth into his neck, the pain making him groan and jolt his hips up, hitting that sweet spot of yours. Now he was focused. Had a goal. His hips slamming into you at the perfect angle to make you crumble. And you were going to. He could feel it. His own high dangerously close. 

"Cum with me mama… milk daddy and keep it all inside baby…" he cooed with a hiss as you bit another spot on his neck. 

You shuddered around him, hips trembling trying to meet his thrusts, not that you needed it. The next wave of pleasure was blinding, your whines lost in sobs, nails digging into his back through the shirt, teeth drawing tiny droplets of blood on his neck. The loud curse, followed by moans as his sticky warm cum filled you up so deeply made your mind dizzy, your hearing gone for a few seconds. 

He remained like this as you both tried to breathe the same air. His cock deep in you, plugging you full.

"Simon.." you sobbed. 

He shushed you, lulled you in his arms, rocking left and right. 

"Did so good baby… proud of you." He kissed your hair, slipping out of you before quickly putting you down on your feet, helping you stand before kneeling to help you slip back your panties and shorts back on. He zipped them up and buttoned the jean fabric. 

"Darling… I'm still dripping with your cum…" you whined through a hiccup. 

He let you slowly back against the wall just enough to shove his cock back in his briefs, closing his cargo pants. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He looked around the room, now taking in your surroundings, some kind of storage rooms for props. An old couch in a fairy tale against a wall. He picked you up bridal style, walking to the piece of furniture before sitting down, cradling you in his lap. He hugged you tight, praises kissing your skin. 

"Simon… where did that come from…" you tried making him look at you. 

"I…" he tried, clearing his voice. The reality of what he did hit him. "I've been watching you with the kids all day… don't know, what came over me…" he said, in some sort of apology. 

"It's.. I'll get a plan B…" you mumbled. 

"No-" he hurried. You looked at him in shock. "Listen… we'll talk about this… I, need to talk about this again. I don't know if I changed my mind, but I definitely… like, the idea of you bearing my child." He spoke, voice strained, unsure of his own words, feelings running across his mind at full speed. 

"We'll talk about it then… but.. this" you blushed, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the way your panties were soaked with a mix of the both of you. "It happened…" 

"Yeah… it did. I think… we still have a bit of time to think about it… doesn't have to be now. We'll talk at home. Just.. sorry I lost my shit." He apologized. 

"I like it…" you whispered. His heart jumped. 

"Oh mama… don't make me bend you over the couch…" he warned. 

You giggled. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, nuzzled against your neck. Yes. You'd talk about it. You had to. He had to face every possible consequence of his actions. And make up his mind. He kept you in his arms for a long half an hour, making you giggle and cuddling you close to him. When he finally stood up with you, watching close your eyes and bite your lip, probably at the sensation of his seed dripping into your panties, he fought the need to simply fuck you again, or put you in his car and drive home to keep you in bed for the rest of the weekend. 

"Simon! No!" You scolded. 

You had seen his gaze. You knew that burning gaze. He smirked before pulling down his mask, walking to the door with you. The sun was blinding, the noise of the park bringing you back to the real world. Simon glared again at the poor employee who immediately looked away. He held your hand as you both walked through the park, looking for the rest of the group. Soap was the first one to notice you, loudly calling you, bringing your attention to the group. 

"Hey! Where have you guys been?! Ghost you gotta ride that roller coaster with me!" He excitedly blurted out. Ghost sighed, making Soap roll his eyes with an overdramatic groan. 

"Come on Y/N! You're coming then! You splash in the water after" He smirked at you. 

Ghost tightened his hold on you, hand swiftly wrapping around your waist. 

"I think Y/N needs a moment of rest. I think she's wet enough…" John's wife said, a teasing look towards you, making you blush madly. 

"What are you talking about? She's totally dry…" Soap argued with a frown, looking at her and then at you and your blushing face. His eyes widened when his mind snapped things together. He stepped back, widening his stance to point a finger at Ghost. 

"You naughty rascal! In an amusement park?! After telling us to behave?!" He almost yelled. 

You hid your face in your hands. Little Kyle turned his attention to Soap while Lily giggled in her mom's arms. 

"Soap…" Ghost warned. 

"You're an animal." Soap shook his head, emphasizing the last word. 

Ghost smirked underneath his mask. Lily leaned forward, grabby hands towards Ghost. His eyes softened picking up the girl in his arms, slowly rocking her. Soap had gone from his rant to being scolded by Price for being so loud as Gaz laughed and John's wife tended to her son. Simon looked down at you, freezing on the spot. The look of lust, craving and desire in your eyes. Perhaps… This was getting interesting. 

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Well... at lease we have Wandee & Stand-in?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 4 of 12 - The geept is strong with this one AKA Yak CAN flirt. Wandee now knows he isn’t the only one with a crush on someone else. AND YET they are SO DAMN CUTE together. I do wonder sometime if Yak is running a counter con with Dee pretending to have a crush on Taem. Meanwhile, mad props on the HPV vax public service! Good for them!!! Now that's my kind of product placement. I do have a feeling the sad bit with these two is gonna be VERY sad and last longer than we like. 

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 eps - It’s a riveting show. Pleasant? No. Riveting? Yes. Tiny crumbs for Ming’s assistant. Joe is best boy. That is all. I LOVE this show.

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 8 of 16 - TOO MANY SOUND EFFECTS. Omg get your fingers off those buttons you computer wanking sound dude (you know it’s a dude) what tf do you think this is? Lovely Writer? Also, they left ALL their drinks! Can you not walk and drink at the same time in a BL? Meanwhile not much happened that hadn’t already happened AKA bit of a filler ep. That said, the friendship group stuff is glorious!!! Also this brand of super gentle flirting suits PondPhuwin better than any of their prior rolls. It reminds me of how much I think they suit a historical. There is a gentle dignity to these two. 

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I love how kindly the turn down was. But most of the dancing stuff was dull. I don’t know I just find the actor playing Kang pretty vacant of appeal I guess. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - As is not uncommon with JBL I’m being to get frustrated with Yuki the Uke. Sigh. I’m probably gonna stay that way for several episodes given the pacing of this show. 

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Also frustrating. Willful misunderstanding. We got us some running of the gays but boy is this drawn out. 

Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 6 - The puppy is a bit too much sunshine innocent for me. And the professor is a bit creepy. I don't know, I'm not loving this one like I want to.

It's airing but...

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS. How?

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 2 of 10 - yeah I can't find it.

In case you missed it

Crossing my fandoms moment, major Kpop blog ran the following: OMEGA X Hangyeom Talks Jazz For Two, Brotherhood, And More With KpopStarz

Tis the season of remakes? Both Addicted Heroin (August, my love!) and My Love Mix-Up (G4!) are coming from Thailand. I am very excited to see both. I love a Thai remake, often more than the original.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/30 Knock Knock Boys (Thai Thurs WeTV & Gaga) - I do love Best and I'm interested in seeing him in a new pairing. That said, I'm not wild about Seng. Still, this looks like a chaotic pulpy mess, I'm looking forward to wallowing in it one way or another.

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

All Wandee Gooday.

Icky no longer allows screen shots or there would have been a bunch from Stand-in.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity

@rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinate wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember:

[gavisuntiedboot]

Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

~

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 15

In the following weeks, you saw Marshall often. You made a point not to avoid him, even though you were still a bit heartbroken over the fact that he was dating someone else. However, you tried not to let it show, and he probably didn’t notice anyway. You didn’t have too much information on Nicole or that date. To be honest, he didn’t seem too keen on sharing those details, and you weren’t really in the mood to ask either. Of course, if he decided to share, you’d be a good friend, but you didn’t really see the point in putting yourself in a position of being sad. You were only thankful that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to him. That would have been awkward to say the least. You got to spend time with him whenever you hung out at the studio (which was rather frequent) , when he visited Jamal and Talia or when you were invited to anything anyone from the group organized. The only thing that had really changed was that you were never alone and that you made a point of not being too close to him physically, but he didn’t seem to mind. You weren’t even sure he noticed any difference anyway… You thought it would be best not to be all over each other all the time. Once again, there was no point in setting yourself up for heartbreak. If he had asked that woman on a date, it clearly meant he didn’t like you as much as you thought he did, or as you hoped he would. On a Sunday afternoon, you joined everyone at Marshall’s to watch the latest Lions’ game on TV. Initially, you weren’t too keen on going, but Marshall had convinced you to come. For some reason, he was really intent on turning you into a football fan. You weren’t the sporty type and couldn’t really care less, but everyone would be there, so you figured that even though you may not really enjoy the game, you would enjoy the company. 

When you arrived at his place with Talia and Jamal, you were greeted by Hailie, who you recognized from pictures Marshall had shown you. 

Hi Hailie ! Talia said before giving her a quick hug. 

Hey guys come in ! The game is about to start, she said. 

She looked really good and, as you quickly looked at her, you could see she had inherited some of Marshall’s features. They looked a lot alike. 

Hi, I’m Hailie, she introduced herself. I’m the daughter. 

I’m Y/N, you replied politely. I’m Talia and Jamal’s roommate, you explained.  

You entered the house and greeted everyone. Marshall was dressed casually, with black sweatpants and a Lions hoodie that brought out the blue in his eyes. He was painfully attractive and you tried not to stare too much. Everyone was sort of matching his outfit, as they were all wearing some Detroit Lions merch. You were the only one who didn’t. You were actually dressed in leggings, UGG boots and your hoodie from University. 

You went to uni here ? Hailie asked as she saw the logo. I actually have the same hoodie !

Yeah. I’m a PhD student here, actually, you explained. 

What are you studying ? 

Communications. It’s my last year ! 

Are you kidding me ? She asked. One of my best friends is a PhD student in communications too ! His name is Josh. Do you know him ? 

I do ! You said with a smile. We worked together on a paper last year. He is amazing ! 

The guy she talked about was very nice. He started his PhD work in the same year as you did and you had a blast working with him. He was by far one of the smartest persons you had ever met. And it didn’t hurt that he was really attractive as well. You and Hailie spent some time talking in the kitchen. As it turned out, you were the same age, born six months apart and had graduated the same year. You actually knew some of her friends and had attended a few of the same events and venues on campus, though you had never talked or noticed each other. 

I can’t believe we never actually met before today, she said. We have probably crossed paths hundreds of times without knowing. 

I know right ? That is so weird. 

So, how come I have never seen you around here if you hang out with Dad and the whole team ? She asked with curiosity. 

Well, I only started hanging out with Marshall and the studio crew recently, you explained. I moved in with Talia and Jamal a few months ago, after I broke up with my boyfriend. 

It’s crazy, everyone seems to be breaking up, these days, she said. Josh broke up with his girlfriend of six months a couple weeks ago. 

Oh ? I hope he’s ok, you said with a smile. Although I wouldn’t be too worried for him. He probably won’t be single for too long… 

I know, right ? Do you guys get along ? She asked. 

Yes, you said. I mean, we don’t really hang out too often, but we’ve worked together in the past and it was great. He is really nice too. I really like him. I think he might actually be the person I talk to the most, on campus. 

We’re going for drinks to cheer him up tonight. You should come ! She offered. 

Oh, I don’t want to intrude, you said with a giggle. 

You won’t ! You guys know each other and… I’m not going to lie, you are totally his type, she added. 

Good to know, you said as you blushed a bit. 

I could gladly set you guys up on a date, she offered. If you’re single, that is. 

Uh… sure, I guess that could be fun, you said. I think drinks tonight might be a good start. 

The two of you kept on chatting for a while, and you couldn’t help but think that, if you had met earlier, you would have been the best of friends. After all, it wasn’t too surprising. She was a lot like her dad, only more cheerful. He entered the kitchen and smiled at you. 

Glad to see the two of you are getting along, Marshall said with a smile as he grabbed a couple of drinks in the fridge. 

We’re actually going for drinks tonight, Hailie said. 

So now you’re stealing my friends, uh ?  He asked his daughter. 

Well Y/N and I do have friends in common, Dad. And I’m sure she’d rather hang out with people our age instead of old crones like you, she joked. 

You have no idea, you said jokingly.

Very funny, Y/N, he said as he rolled his eyes. You girls better get to the living room, the game is about to start. 

You sat down next to him as you watched the game. He tried to explain the rules of football to you and you tried your best to understand, but it was all a bit blurry to you. You understood what a touchdown was, but there was something about the yards that didn’t make sense to you. You silently cursed the Americans for their misunderstanding of the metric system. Still, you had to admit that the game was entertaining, as well as everyone’s passion for it. They seemed excited about every move the players made, and they were so involved you could have sworn they were part of the team, especially Marshall. He promised to take you to see an actual game, in person, so that you would finally get the hype. You agreed but didn’t really count on it. In a matter of weeks, he probably would take Nicole instead… 

After the game, everyone hung out for a while. You were talking to Talia when he came to get you. You went for a walk in the garden. 

So, you finally met Hailie, he said with a smile. 

Yes, you said happily. Your daughter is really cool. 

I knew you’d get along, he chuckled. Are you sure about going for drinks with her, though? 

Do you have a problem with me hanging out with her ? You asked. 

No, not at all, he said. It’s great you’re getting along. But, you know, you’re sober and she and her friends… they’re not. They’re responsible but still, I want to make sure you’ll be ok. 

Worried much ? You said jokingly. 

Well, yeah, he admitted. I know this shit can be hard. Plus, you know… I’ve been worried about your sobriety when we weren’t talking. 

Really ? You asked surprised. 

Of course. I mean, me talking about you overdosing… that was a shitty move, he said sheepishly. Especially a week after a relapse. 

Well I think I did pretty well, you said with a smile. I don’t want you to worry. I think I’ll be ok. Plus, I’m often around alcohol, you know ? When there are events at university, stuff like that. So, really, I’m good. 

Good then, he said before kissing your cheek. I’m proud of you, Y/N. 

That evening, you joined Hailie and her friends for drinks. Josh was happy to see you and reconnect. The two of you talked a lot about your respective research and the struggles of being PhD students. The conversation was easy going and you really enjoyed the moment. Hailie and her friends were so nice too. For the first time in weeks, you found yourself forgetting about Marshall, even though it was ironic since you were hanging out with his daughter. 

The night came to an end and you said goodbye to everybody, especially thanking Hailie for the invite. Josh walked you out of the restaurant to get a cab. 

We should hang out more. I had a great night. Can I see you again ? He asked. 

Sure. Feel free to come by my office on campus, you said with a smile. 

I meant, like, on a date, he added. 

We can grab coffee on Thursday if you want, you said before kissing him on the cheek and getting in the cab. 

It’s a date, then.

He closed the door for you with a charming smile and you stared at him as the car started. You couldn’t contain your smile, on the way home. 

From M :  Having fun tonight ? 

Reply to M : Yes. Made new friends and drank mocktails :) you ? 

From M : Good. Hanging out in the studio with Dre. Working on a couple of songs. He flew in tonight, he’s going back to LA on wednesday. 

You smiled as you read Marshall’s texts. Even on a weekend night, he was working. You couldn’t help but admire his work ethic and dedication. 

Reply to M : Can’t wait to hear them. 

From M : You can come to the studio on Thursday if you want. I’ll play them for you. 

Reply to M : Can’t. I have a date :) Friday ? 

Josh took you out for coffee and a walk for your first date and it was as if you were in a movie. The conversation, the hand-holding, the flirting and the kissing… it was perfect. You were giddy as you got home and told your friends everything. Talia was nothing but supportive. If anything, she was just as giddy as you. Jamal, on the other hand… he seemed unimpressed. 

What about Marshall ? He asked. 

What about him ? You and Talia asked at the same time. 

You know damn well what I mean, Y/N, he said. There’s something between the two of you. You like him.

Yeah, I do, you said. I mean, he is amazing. But we’re good friends. That’s it.

Bullshit, Jamal said as he rolled his eyes. You aren’t fooling anyone.

I don’t know, Babe, Talia said. I mean, I thought there was something there too but don’t you think Em would have made a move by now ? 

Right, you said. 

Obviously, you hadn’t said anything about what happened between Marshall and yourself. Talia only knew what had happened during the first movie night, but that was it. The only things your friends knew, they got from watching your interactions. 

I’ve known him for a while and he’s never cared for anyone like that, Jamal said as he shrugged. And you, Y/N… I’ve seen you around him. All… cuddly, and flirty and shit. Everybody can see it. 

I think we’re missing the important question here : what do you want, Y/N ? Talia asked. 

Look… maybe I was a little flirty, you admitted. But there’s NOTHING between Marshall and I. He doesn’t like me like that and that’s fine by me. On the other hand, Josh IS interested in me and is taking me on a dinner date on Saturday night. 

It was true. As soon as your first date had ended, Josh had booked the next one. He seemed interested in you and not afraid to show it. It was something you liked, as it left no ambiguity as to whether or not he liked you. And you could definitely use some of that, instead of dwelling on Marshall...

On the next day, you visited Marshall at the studio after you were done with uni work, as planned. He was alone in the room when you arrived. Everyone else had already gone home. 

Am I too late ? You asked after you greeted him. 

It was unusual for you to see him alone in the studio. 

All good. I wanted to stay a bit longer to listen to all of the tracks anyways, Marshall said. We have produced about thirty so far and I’m not sure about some of them. 

You sat on the huge leather couch and listened as he played some of the tracks for you. You closed your eyes as you tried to focus. 

Thoughts ? He asked after he had played about ten tracks. 

I don’t have any, you said. 

Well that’s not good, he mumbled. 

He rolled his eyes and put his head back as he sighed. 

What do you mean ? You asked. 

I mean I played you about a third of what I have and it doesn’t even make you think of… anything ? Like, are they that bad ? 

No, you said with a laugh. What I meant to say is that I know nothing about music. I wouldn’t know how to differentiate a good song from a bad one. That’s kind of your job, you know ? 

Mmmh, he sighed, still not satisfied with the answer. 

There are some tracks I like more than others, you said. But that doesn’t mean anything. What matters is your own opinion. 

Which ones do you like ? He asked. 

Do you really want my input ? You asked in disbelief. 

It can’t hurt, he shrugged. 

You went over the songs together, as you gave him your opinion on the beats or the lyrics. It was kind of haphazard, as you didn’t know the right words to use. He sometimes proceeded to correct you with a chuckle. 

No, that’s not what « reverb » is. 

No ? You asked in disbelief. You know… that kind of … sound and the way it goes ? 

Yeah, no, I see, he said as he laughed lightly. 

It’s crazy. It seems so easy for you, you said. 

As you said… it’s my job, he replied with a smile. Like I probably wouldn’t know shit about your work. 

Maybe, you said with a chuckle. I think you’d find it a bit boring. 

Probably a bit, he admitted. But I know you’re crazy smart. 

Believe me, as I’m writing, it feels like I’m unable to string two sentences together, you replied. 

Maybe Jack could help you with that. 

Who ? 

You know… your date, Marshall said. You guys do the same thing, right ? 

Ah. Josh, you corrected. I take it that you talked to Hailie ? 

Josh, he repeated. Right. Yeah, Hailie might have told me a few things. You guys work in the same field, so maybe he would be able to help you ? 

I don’t know about that. I have worked on a paper with him before but showing him my own work and for him to critique ? It’s kind of… 

Intimate ? 

Yeah. 

He smiled in agreement. 

So. Are you going to tell me how it went ? He finally asked.

I didn’t realize you were interested in my date, you replied with a smile. 

I care about you, Y/N. You know that, Marshall said with a serious voice. 

Well it went great. We went for coffee and a walk. We had a great talk. He held my hand. And he kissed me, once. 

Once ? He asked in surprise. Just once ? 

Yeah. It was a goodbye kiss. 

He nodded in understanding. It was a bit weird for you to talk to him about your date. He looked in your eyes as he waited for you to say more. 

What ? You asked with an awkward laugh. Want me to describe the kissing for you ? 

I’m good, thanks, he said with a grin. 

He’s taking me out tomorrow. 

So soon ? Damn, he must really like you, Marshall commented with a chuckle. 

Well, I am kind of a catch, you said jokingly. 

Of course you are, he said with a smile. 

He looked in your eyes and he got closer to you. It seemed as if he was about to add something when his phone rang. He looked away as he answered it. 

Hey… thanks for calling. yeah, tomorrow is great for me… 7:00 ? … good. Me too. Bye. 

He looked back at you. 

Sorry, he said. 

All good ? You asked. 

Yeah. It was Nicole, he simply said, with a casual tone. 

You stared at him and tried to prevent your emotions from showing. 

I told you about my date. Do you want to tell me about yours ? You asked carefully. 

I’m not sure there’s too much to say, he explained. Hailie set it up. 

You let out an involuntary laugh. 

Your daughter should really start matchmaking business. 

You have no idea, he replied as he rolled his eyes. Ever since her mother and I got divorced for the second time, she has been meddling. I can’t count the number of times she tried to set me up with her friends’ single moms. I usually don’t let her but well… who knows ? 

He laughed at the memory. 

So… want to tell me more Nicole ? You asked. 

Actually, I know her from… way back. Her daughters used to go to the same primary school as mine. I hadn’t seen her in years when we ran into her at the hospital. We ran into each other again a few days later when I was out with the girls and somehow Hailie got her to call me. She’s nice. 

She’s really hot, you said. 

I’m not commenting on that, he said as he rolled his eyes. Is Jack hot ? 

Josh, you corrected. 

Right. Is he ? 

I’m not answering that, you replied with a grin. 

You stared at each other and burst out in laughter. Somehow, it felt good to be able to talk to him about it. 

So… you like this Nicole ? 

She’s nice, he said. 

I mean… she must be kind of cool if your own daughter thinks she’s good enough for you right ? You asked. 

I guess. We’ll see how it goes. How about Ja- Josh, sorry. You like him ? 

I do, you nodded. He is really smart. Kind, too. And… he is really hot, you added with a wink. 

Oh yeah ? 

Yup. 

That’s cool, he said with a smile. 

The both of you chuckled. 

For real though, how do you feel about dating ? He asked. 

What do you mean ? You asked back, puzzled. 

Recovery isn’t an easy time. Are you sure you should be dating ? I mean, I don’t mean to be an ass, or tell you what not to do, he said. But maybe you should focus on yourself a bit ? 

You stared at him and said nothing for a second. It seemed pretty ironic for him to say that when he had asked you out a while ago, shortly after your relapse, no less. 

I like him, you know ? He’s really nice, and, at least, it keeps my mind busy, you said. I think I’m ready to date. 

He nodded and smiled softly. 

You know… this son of a bitch better be nice to you, Marshall said.

And what if he isn’t ? You wondered. 

I’ll make sure he regrets being born, if he ever hurts you. 

He’s a gentleman, you reassured him. And Hailie likes him. 

Right. Must be a nice dude, then. 

You looked at each other, smiling. 

You know, if Nicole ever breaks your heart, I can make sure some hair removal cream ends up in her shampoo, you said with a smirk. 

What if I’m the one who fucks it up ? He wondered. 

I’m sure you won’t, you said. Though if you do end up being an ass… I’ll probably have to dye your beard green in your sleep. Or shave it. 

I’ll remember the warning, he said with a chuckle. And I hope it doesn’t happen… It took forever to grow this thing. 

You laughed as you gently scratched his beard. He pulled you in for a long hug. 

It’s good, he said under his breath. 

Yeah. It really is, you confirmed.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 3

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic asshole. After their moment at the wrap party, Tom shows up at Parker's bookstore. How is it possible someone can be such an asshole when asking for a favor?

read the story here: prev / next

Two weeks later finds the weather outside shifting with the first hint of autumn; cooler temperatures in the morning greet Parker when she walks to work, and the coffee shop next door has started advertising their new fall drinks of pumpkin spice and cinnamon tea. She's seen her brother every day since the wrap party—partly because he always makes a point of taking some down time after finishing a movie to recover from his stunts, and partly because her and Jody have become fast friends—but she hasn't seen Tom since their moment in the bathroom.

She suspects that's for the best. The internet is flooded with paparazzi photos of him flouncing around town with models every other day, and she's still trying to forget how natural it felt to laugh with him.

But despite her brother's newly open schedule, and Jody's constant pestering to go spend a day at the beach, Parker finds her bookstore just as empty as always.

There are a few stragglers here and there throughout the day. Sometimes she gets lucky when a tour bus stops for gas and snacks, allowing an ensemble of tacky dressed tourists to flood her street for twenty minutes. On unlucky days, Mr. Chamberlain will stop in to peruse her historical section; but he doesn't have any sort of schedule or income, and those visits consist entirely of him describing last night's CSI episode to Parker before trying to set her up with his grandson. Once he bought a book from her dollar bin. He attempted to return it three days later.

On days like today, Parker is visited by a sixteen-year-old named Melissa who hangs out every so often while her mom attends overpriced Pilates in the studio down the block.

"...and then Peter was all 'no, sorry Mandy, I'm not interested". Like, hello! My name is Melissa and we've lived in the same neighborhood since we were four," said teenager was droning on from her spot atop the upcycled reading chair in the corner. She never failed to impress Parker with how much she could talk—the stories quite literally never stopped coming—while at the same time she managed to read about four books a week. Parker suspected that Melissa's brain represented something like the Rainbow Road in Mario Kart, when the music got a little too fast and the turns were a little too hard to keep up with. "Now, I have no idea what I'm going to do. There's no one else for me to ask since it's three weeks away."

Parker, only half-listening to the story, hummed from her spot two rows back. She had won several boxes of books at a local auction about a month ago and had done a pretty good job at pretending they didn't exist.

Ignoring the problem only lasted so long, however, and this morning she had ended up spilling coffee all over herself when her sneaker caught the edge of the box. Pride—and knees—damaged, she decided to tackle the issue first thing in the morning.

It was now four in the afternoon, and the books were mocking her.

"Can't you just go alone?" she asked.

"Go alone? Are you crazy! That's, like, really sad, Park," Melissa explained. She couldn't see her, but Parker could feel the judgmental look the teen girl was giving her. "Only losers go alone to dances."

"Baby did it."

"Who?"

"Baby. You know? You don't put Baby in a corner? That one."

A tut. "You should really update your references."

"Jesus. Since when did Dirty Dancing become an outdated reference?" she muttered while inspecting the spine of a mystery novel from the 70s. It had definitely seen better days, and when she shifted it, three pages fell out. Parker tossed it into the TRASH box with a sigh. "Is going to a dance with your friends considered outdated too?"

"That's the same thing as going alone," Melissa groaned.

"How? You're literally not alone."

"Because if I go with my friends, that means that I couldn't get anyone that wasn't a friend to agree to go with me. I don't need the whole school thinking that I'm a total loser."

"I went with my friends and had a blast. And I'm not a loser."

There was no response other than silence, and after a few moments Parker realized that if Melissa had nothing to say about the subject, she likely had nothing nice to say.

She cleared her throat before moving onto the next, and final, box hoping that there would be better books in it. So far, her KEEP pile was looking pathetically small compared to what was about to be binned. With a forced change of conversation, she asked, "hey, you grew up here, right?"

"Sure."

"Did you know the Sawyers?"

"Like, Miss Sawyer? Down on Oakcrest?"

"The fancy old house with the bushes shaped like dogs. I bought a bunch of books at her estate sale, and so far, they all suck. I thought she was supposed to be a big collector or something."

The sound of Melissa humming echoed throughout the empty store, and Parker peeked around the bookshelves to spot the girl lying upside down on the chair; Doc Martens stuck up in the air, long ponytail hanging to the ground as she played on her phone.

Parker rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, totally. But she collected those kid's books. Original copies or whatever. Mom said she paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for some rabbit book."

"...Peter Rabbit?"

"I guess," Melissa shrugged. There was a loud smack of gum popping before her voice rang out, "she did a bunch of donations to local art musuems and galleries and stuff. A phila-something—"

"Philanthropist?"

"—and there was some big deal about her donating everything to some charity. Mom was talking about it. Which, like, good for them or whatever but I don't understand how donating an old book is helping solve world hunger."

Parker let her head drop against the beat-up cardboard box in front of her, something despondent and miserable sitting on her chest at the realization that she had wasted time and money on nothing but crap. "Well, I wish I knew that before I went into a bidding war over this garbage. Are the Hardy Boys still cool or is that dated too?"

A judgmental laugh floated back. "Um, their name is pronounced Hemsworth, Park."

"I meant—" she started, before realizing that this was a battle she was never going to win, and even if she wanted to try the musty smell resonating from these boxes of crap had burned through her daily allowance of braincells. Something Melissa didn't seem to worry about as she puffed from her vape pen. "Forget it."

Not so shockingly, Melissa did not, in fact, forget it. Instead, she spent the next ten minutes describing in scary detail each Hemsworth brother, their looks on a scale of one to ten, their best movies, and why Chris was the dreamiest of them all. His hair and eyes were a big selling point, apparently, and as Parker listened to the teenager drone on, she couldn't help but wonder if Chris Hemsworth used box dye too.

So wrapped up in her own world of book sorting, Parker didn't notice when the front door opened with a tinkle of the bell until the shop went eerily quiet. Melissa, it seemed, had finally found a reason to shut up.

"I never liked Chris all that much," Parker said as she slowly gathered the KEEP bin and hefted it off the floor. Her lower back ached at the strain. Jesus, maybe I am old. Moving towards the front counter, she continued musing, "There's something about him in the first Thor movie, when his eyebrows were all bleached, that kind of turned me off. I think there's a word for that, right? The ew or something...."

She spots Melissa first.

The girl is sitting upright in the chair now, face flushed a deep scarlet red with a book held tightly in her lap as she pretends to read through it. Her phone and vape are nowhere to be seen, and she doesn't so much as glance up when Parker strides by.

"What happened to you?" she asks with an amused quirk of the brow. Melissa doesn't respond, and Parker turns to set the heavy box of books on the front counter when she spots the other person in the room. "Oh, sorry. I was in the back. Can I help—?"

It shouldn't surprise her as much as it does, but Parker blinks to find Tom Ryder standing on the other side of the counter staring at her with raised brows.

Tom fucking Ryder.

He looks better than the last time she ran into him. He has a nice tan going underneath a funky pair of yellow sunglasses that are, in her opinion, too big for his face. They look a little absurd with the whitewashed denim jacket he's wearing, but the yellow matches the bedazzled t-shirt he has on underneath, so she suspects it's some sort of fashion statement. Paired with an expensive pair of well-polished boots, it all looks quite absurd standing in the middle of her dilapidated bookstore.

Even more so when Parker realizes she's wearing nothing but a pair of cheap cargo shorts and an oversized Twilight sweatshirt that was covering the coffee-stained shirt underneath. (Team Jacob, always).

"Tom. Um... are you looking for Colt or something?"

In typical Ryder fashion, he ignores her question entirely to do a slow spin; blue eyes tinted by his glasses trailing over everything in sight. She can feel the judgement from across the counter, and when he finally fixes his sights back on her, his smirk is rage inducing. "This is your store. Seriously?"

Parker promptly plants her hands onto her hips with a scathing glare.

"Ok, what do you want?"

"Jesus, no wonder this place is empty," he drawls, a pointed smile tossed towards Melissa's prone form as he leans an elbow onto the counter. At being noticed, the teenager ducks her head behind the spine of her book as if she had just been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "Do you talk to all your customers like that?"

"Just the assholes," she retorts. Over Tom's shoulder she catches Melissa's book dropping down two inches, and the girl's face is completely aghast.

What are you doing! she mouths, that's Tom Ryder!

Parker rolls her eyes. As if she didn't know who the blinged-out asshole standing in her store was. Speaking of—he's still standing there smirking at her. "That's you, if I wasn't clear. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Tom snorts. "I think I got that after the fifth time you said it."

"And yet..." she gestures vaguely to him, then to her store.

Because he's never behaved like a normal person, however, Tom doesn't seem to mind the insult or the offhand comment that she didn't want to deal with him. Instead, he smiles while his gaze drifts from judging the bookstore to judging Parker. He gives her a glance over—up, down, lingering on her oversized sweatshirt, before going back up—and finishes with a snort. "If the door hits me, I'm suing for damages, and I doubt you could afford the lawsuit. Let alone a lawyer."

God! What. a. fucking. asshole!

Parker bites back the insult knowing that it won't do any good. They've played this game before, and clearly being called an asshole seemed to have lost some of its bite over the weeks. So instead, she forcefully returns her attention to the cardboard box and slowly starts sorting the books into categories. "Fine. Can you just tell me what you want so I can get back to my life?"

He shifts against the counter and over the mustiness she catches a waft of his cologne when he grabs a book at random from her pile. "Why else do people come to a bookstore? I want a book."

Parker snorts. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Seriously, what do you want?"

There's a moment of silence. She glances up to find him pointedly ignoring her as he flips through the book at random.

"You're... serious?"

He shrugs. "You said you have a bunch of sci-fi books."

"I'm surprised you even remember that given the whole," she sticks a finger into her mouth and mimes throwing up. He doesn't find it funny or cute and responds with a disgusted glare. Parker rolls her eyes with a shake of the head. "It was a—never mind. Why not order off of Amazon? I thought you said you've never even been to a bookstore before?"

This time, it's his turn to roll his eyes. He drops the book with a thwack before turning his attention to the overstuffed bookshelves at her left. At random, he starts ambling towards one. "You should be flattered that I picked your little store to start. Most people would kill to say that you know. Tom Ryder explores rundown bookstore in the shitty side of LA. If you had a picture, the paps would run it in every paper by tomorrow morning," he huffs.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to document this monumental occasion forever," she snarks, but follows after him anyway. His pattern is half-hearted; poking books here and there, glancing for hardly a second, before moving on. "And my store isn't rundown. It just has some... character."

He snorts over his shoulder. "That's what a Mom says when her daughter is ugly."

"Don't you go through PR training or something?" she scoffs as he diverts to a different aisle. "I can't imagine Gail would like to hear that particular opinion if I sold it to TMZ."

"Gail would sue you for everything you own," he laughed while flipping through an old copy of Gone with the Wind. Parker crosses her arms at him with a glare, and in response Tom flashes a too-white smile at her. "She freaked out about the mink rug, by the way. Was screaming and everything. It was hilarious."

Parker's heart stopped in her chest, but when there was no continuation of the joke—haha I can't wait to see you served with papers!—she furrowed her brows at him. "You didn't tell her it was my fault?"

A shrug as he shoved the book against her chest.

She huffed, turning the book over to check for damages, but when he turned his back... well, a part of her did wonder why he would keep that a secret if it was such a big deal. Was it to be nice? Or so he could hold it over her head indefinitely? Then again, if this was his attempt at blackmail, letting it go for two weeks seemed like the wrong way to go about it.

Deciding not to linger on unsolvable riddles, Parker returned the book to the end cap he had found it on and asked, "so, does this mean you've decided to audition for that sci-fi part after all?"

Her question went unanswered as Tom paused in front of the SEX & SEXUALITY section. He pulled a wrinkled copy of Fifty Shades of Grey off the shelf and waggled his brows at her pointedly. "Keeping the good stuff for yourself, huh?"

Parker responded by snagging the book out of his hand and stuffing it back into place. "You break it, you buy it applies here too, Ryder."

"Half this place is broken," he said with a pointed glance at the flickering overhead light. "I still can't believe you own this shithole."

"I happen to love this bookstore—"

"Oh, trust me, I can believe that you would own a bookstore," he said, and while there was nothing insulting about owning a bookstore on its own, the way that Tom spoke made it clear that owning a bookstore was not something he held in high regard. Then again, he spent all his time reading shitty scripts, so what would he know? "I just can't believe that you would own this bookstore. Like, you actually paid money for this place?"

"If you have to know, I used to be friends with the owner, and got a good deal on the property," she started to explain. He raised his brows at her while slowly perusing the RELIGION section, and Parker shook herself. She didn't need to explain anything to him of all people. The reminder helped her find some confidence, and she fluttered her hands at him irritably. "You know what—I don't need to explain myself to you. You've never even been to a bookstore before. What would you know about making sacrifices for something you believed in?"

Tom paused in his search. She saw his jaw clench, and eyes droop towards the creaky wooden floor beneath his shiny boots, and his comment from the other day drifted back to mind.

"You can be a real asshole sometimes, too, he had said.

And while guilt did block her throat up a bit—fucking asshole couldn't even let her defend herself without feeling bad about it—this time he didn't make any such reprimands. Instead, he just shrugged, before diving deeper into the store.

He cleared his throat. "I just expected it be nicer coming from you."

"Does something about me secretly scream rich girl to you?"

Tom harrumphed. "Trust me, no one is mistaking you for rich. Uptight, however..."

"Oh, ha, hilarious, Tom. God! You're such an asshole," she laughed, but it was a mean sound, paired with a mean insult. It failed to have the desired effect, however. In fact, Tom seemed to have shifted from hating the insult to owning it and looked far too amused for her liking. Frustrated, Parker decided the best plan of extermination was a straightforward shot. Through gritted teeth, she asked, "...what kind of sci-fi book do you want?"

The rhinestones on his shoulders sparkled as he shrugged. "I don't know. I need to understand what gets nerds so fucking excited about this shit. Not too nerdy, though. Alright? I'm not trying to be a Trekkie or whatever."

There were so many things wrong with that statement that Parker wasn't sure what to pick first. So, she pinched the bridge of her nose to point out, "I have a feeling the so-called nerds making up your potential fanbase aren't going to appreciate being talked about like that."

"Who's gonna tell them—you?" he asked with a derisive glance over.

It was definitely true what they said about Tom Ryder; his effect on women was instantaneous. Parker just doubted the tabloids were talking about migraines.

"The sci-fi section is on the right," she sighed while pushing past him. It was one of the larger sections she had; it hadn't been a lie to say the books weren't selling all that well despite being her favorite. "What have you read before?"

The blank look he gave her was response enough.

"Ah, right, maybe... Altered Carbon?"

"Isn't that a tv show?"

"Well, yeah, but it was a book first."

He glanced at the book in her hand, but clearly wasn't impressed. Leaning on the shelf, he said, "why the hell would I read that if I could just watch it?"

"Sound logic," she tutted with a narrow eyed look. Parker returned the book with an eyeroll. "Fahrenheit 451?"

"Read it in high school. Not impressed."

She trailed the shelf while muttering, listing books in her head before subconsciously crossing them off the list of something he was likely to read and enjoy. "I guess that means you wouldn't like The Illustrated Man or The Martian Chronicles," she said to herself.

His arm brushed her aside to pluck out a familiar novel. "Nerds love this," he said while already flipping through the pages. She was surprised the size didn't scare him off immediately.

"Nu-uh. No way," she shook her head.

"What?"

"Dune is not a starter book."

He furrowed his brows crossly. "You don't think I'm smart enough to read this shit or something?"

You shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answers to, her mother's voice echoed in the back of her head.

"Reading Dune as your first sci-fi book is like jumping straight into the deep end," she told him in a much more diplomatic approach. "If a sixteen year old wants to start drinking, you don't give him scotch, you give him a fruity cocktail."

Tom huffed; first through his nose and then through his mouth but stuffed the book back onto the shelf anyway. To which Parker then had to put it back on the correct shelf with a huff of her own.

"Don't be a baby and just trust me that Dune isn't a starter book. Okay?"

"Well—what is? You're supposed to be the expert here."

"If you weren't so picky it would be a lot easier..." she deadpanned but returned to her search anyway. Tom didn't seem to like waiting, and scowled at her as she shifted past him. She ignored him as best she could while squatting down to the lower shelves. "Arthur C. Clarke is one of the best sci-fi writers. He established a lot of rules that still exist in writing today. And films."

Parker pulled one of his novels, before moving towards Asimov, and then finally to Sagan. They were all slimmer novels than Dune, but no less complicated.

"Contact is my favorite," she said, shoving the books into Tom's arms. His denim was rough on her hands, and she tried not to think about how feverishly warm his skin had been the last time she had been this close to him. Swallowing, Parker remained on task. "But any of these should be good starter books for you to get into sci-fi with."

He glanced at the choices warily. "My audition is next week."

"Then I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to finish these if you're really serious about wanting to get that role," she chirped.

Together, they wound back towards the front counter. The TRASH boxes sat in the middle of the aisle, and she carefully toed them to the side before trailing past. While she was pretty sure he had been joking about suing her, a workplace hazard was the last thing she needed.

"How do you remember all of this?"

"Where stuff is? I spend almost all of my time arranging books. I'm uptight, remember?"

She felt more than saw his eyeroll. "These books, the authors. You, like, know everything about them."

Parker paused. It definitely wasn't a compliment, but it definitely felt like it could have been. Then again, this was Tom Ryder. When she glanced up from the counter, she found that he already has his nose back in his phone, and the conundrum of compliment versus not was thrown out the window. Parker shot him an unimpressed look to say, "please tell me that you're not on SparkNotes right now."

It was his turn to pause. "I'm just... reading the descriptions."

"Maybe that's why you can't understand why nerds like these books," she argued, hands planted firmly on her hips now. "Why would I go to watch one of your movies if I already looked the plot up on Wikipedia?"

He ignored her point entirely to smirk. "So, you do see my movies?"

"Goodbye, Tom."

"Relax. I'm not going to spoil them, alright? What's the fun in that when I could read them instead, and then leave you a bad review when the books end up being awful?"

"You mean have your assistants leave me a bad review."

He didn't seem impressed at the jab but didn't defend himself either. Most likely because they both knew she was right. Parker shot him a smug smile that he promptly rolled his eyes at. "Hilarious. Just tell me how much the books cost so I can leave before stepping on a rusty nail or something."

"Didn't you see the sign out front? Can't come in without a tetanus shot due to liability reasons."

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but when she glanced up at him, Tom was wiping a hand down his face. "How much for the books, smartass?"

Parker was pretty sure she could upsell him. There was no way that he knew those three books, decades old with ripped pages, were only worth fifteen bucks together. And with all the Gucci name brand bullshit that he wore, she was pretty sure she could get away with telling him the price was a hundred dollars and he wouldn't even blink an eye.

But he was also a customer, a somewhat work acquaintance, and someone she really didn't want to hang around any longer than necessary. Not to mention her brother's pseudo boss, and someone that knew she was guilty of wrecking a far more expensive rug than she could ever pay to fix.

"Just consider them a loan," she said before she could second guess herself. When Tom raised his eyebrows so high they disappeared into his hairline, she waved a hand at him while half-heartedly returning to her job of book sorting. "If you're that put-off by it you can always pay me an agent's fee if you get the part."

He stared at her for a long moment, not necessarily computing, definitely hearing static, before Tom spared her an over-the-top eyeroll that surely had to have hurt to perform.

From his pocket he pulled out a couple of crumpled bills and slapped them onto the counter. He didn't even look at how much money it was. Just shook his head at her, glasses bobbing on his nose, before he was on his way out the door.

"Hey! Don't you want your change—?"

The door shut with a ting.

On the counter sat seventy-three dollars. Parker wasn't sure if she should be offended or complimented.

From outside there was the sound of an obnoxiously loud car engine revving, alongside the thrum of music, before it tore off down the street.

"What a fucking asshole," she grumbled with the shake of her head.

But it wasn't exactly an asshole thing to do, when she thought about it. And she would know; every exchange they had since being introduced had Tom acting like an asshole to her.

Or, well, not every exchange. Not when he had been, almost, nice to her at Gail's party, if only for a few moments when no one else was around.

"OH. MY. GOD!" a shrill voice shrieked across the store, bouncing off of bookshelves, as two boots went crashing towards the window. Parker was reminded in no gentle terms that they had not, in fact, been alone when Melissa smudged her face against the glass to peer out onto the street. "Holy shit! That was Tom Ryder! Tom Ryder! Are you kidding me right now? TOM. RYDER."

"Yeah, Jesus, I know who that was," she winced, pinching her ear when she thought the girl's high pitch yelp may have burst an eardrum. There was definitely a ringing as Melissa tromped around.

"You—he—I can't believe after all of this time you never once mentioned that you're friends with Tom freaking Ryder!" she squeaked.

"Well, hang on, we're not—"

"How long have you known him? How do you know him? Do you have his phone number? Ohmygod everyone is going to flip when I tell them that you know him. Tom Ryder!" Melissa shouted, phone already in hand as she started typing. "My friend, my dear friend and favorite bookstore owner, is best friends with Tom Ryder! Did you see his latest movie, Good Cop, Bad Dog? Ugh! He's so hot!"

"We're not friends," she said immediately, not even bothering to dispute the fact that Good Cop, Bad Dog was a puff piece in an attempt to market him for younger fans. "He's actually kind of an asshole."

The teenager shot Parker a scandalized look, mouth popped open into an O as her brows lifted to her hairline. "What? Are you kidding me right now? He just drove all the way out here to ask for your recommendation for a sci-fi book! His house is, like, fifty minutes from here with traffic. Don't call him that when you just became so cool."

Parker frowned. "How do you know where he lives?" she asked, before adding with much more intensity, "hang on a second, am I not cool?"

But Melissa was already moving on, the sound of facetime dialing on her phone as she darted back outside in hopes of catching another glimpse of the celebrity. Parker, in response, caught her head between her hands with a low groan.

And yet, she couldn't help but think about what Melissa said.

Tom Ryder was a total, grade-A asshole... right?

She cast a despondant glance towards the crumpled bills on the counter, then the box of books at her side, before fishing her phone out of her back pocket, and pressing the second number on speed dial.

"Hey," she said, "do you want to get, like, really drunk tonight?"

Colt didn't bother to ask why before he was checking what ingredients he had in his fridge and offering to invite Jody and Dan over for dinner. Sometimes, she really loved her brother.

[barrenclan]

I think overarching plot is relatively easy to come up with, but how do you come up with smaller more filler-like events for your stories, like the plum-bee spats and corm training with egret? I’m having some trouble filling in the flesh of my own story, and was wondering if you had any insight.

Oh boy, real softball questions! Haha, but I can try to give you an answer for these.

I think the best way I can explain the first question is how I wrote PATFW, since it was much more heavily structured than my other comic (and more recent).

So, I started with the premise, the characters, and the general arcs I wanted each of them to go through. The premise helped me to establish the guidelines of this world, what kind of tone I would have for the story - moody and mysterious, so I knew that comedy would not be as frequent and characters might often take a turn towards more realistic drama.

The arcs of each character came with understanding what I wanted to do with them - do I want this person to get better, or get worse? Will they be a force of antagonism, or a side character, will they live or die? What point am I trying to get across with this character? Those kind of questions helped me know how they would interact with each other as well, so for instance a character like Daffodilpaw being friendly and cheerful, with her arc, would interact a specific way with dramatic and egotistical Beeface, for her arc. (Sorry I can't be more specific, but the comic's not done yet.)

Once you have a strong understanding these things - tone and characters - it's not too hard to let the story percolate in your mind. There's nothing wrong with just letting ideas float around in the back of your brain, instead of trying to force them all out right away. I actually wrote the ending of PATFW a couple months after I had started the comic, because the characters naturally led me to that conclusion. Here's an example of what I'm talking about with tone and characters leading to a small interaction that I hadn't previously planned like you asked about:

I have Rainhaze, and Ranger. Rainhaze is kind and brave, but currently very lost. Ranger is sadistic and enjoys feeling in control. So, I need a plot reason for Ranger to have not found BarrenClan. Well, Rainhaze being self-sacrificial, told him that BarrenClan all died and he's the last survivor. When Ranger finds out, it makes him feel tricked - he doesn't like that, so he threatens to kill Rainhaze. Rainhaze is self-sacrificial, as previously mentioned, and is now showing some suicidal tendencies, so he doesn't care if Ranger kills him. But Ranger then refuses to do so, having regained control, and twists the knife by letting him live while feeling suicidal. That's a pretty grim scene, which fits with the tone of the story well.

There you go - that's an interaction I hadn't plotted out the story with, but I was able to come to naturally by understanding the characters, the way their arcs are moving, and the tone of the story.

For this question, it's a little more tricky. The sad, honest answer is that there is no reliable way to do this. That's kind of how the Internet works. Unless you pay money to advertise, I suppose, you can't push a button that says "popularity points" and have it spit out readers. And sadly, sometimes movement only comes after you grind away, day after day, and don't give up. Here's a few things that might help, though.

Use multiple platforms. It's simple, but the more places you post, the more eyes you'll catch. Different websites/apps have different readerbases, too - Webtoons, ComicFury, Instagram, DeviantArt, Tumblr, Hiveworks, and others all have varying levels of attention and algorithims, and work that you have to do to keep up with an audience. Find whatever feels right for you and focus on one or two, but keep the others in your periphery.

Be consistent. People are more likely to actually keep up with a comic that updates every single week, rather than that posts a page or two and then ghosts for a month. Cough, cough, maybe you'll say - but I always set out with this comic to be a side project, and posting asks like this helps me continue to engage with an audience even when I'm not completing issues.

DON'T CARE! I know that seems like counterproductive advice, but seriously; you have to be okay with the fact that you might not get any attention. If you make a comic with the set goal of being popular, or even just worry about having readers, you're going to make yourself miserable. Obviously having attention is more fun, and more motivating, I won't deny that. But you need to be just as happy making a comic for 3 people than 3000 to make something you're proud of and not burn out in the process. If you're making something earnest, fun, interesting, passionate - people will come eventually.

[peacheesex]

♥️Lyney with a reader who is tired and showing signs of depression♥️

Angst/Comfort♥️

Self Indulgent♥️

It'll be one that you'll wanna read before you go to sleep so you have good dreams and end the night with positive thoughts:)

TW: Depressing in the beginning, anxiety, just lack of a will to really be a person anymore really. Reader is sick too. Possible eating disorder eluded to?

Written before I went to bed! I'll proofread in the morning♥️♥️♥️

Everything has felt so heavy lately. Your arms, you legs, your head, your brain- everything feels so dense. It feels like you are melting and not in a good way. Everyone looks at you weird and you can hear the judging whispers behind your back. Your nose was stuffed and your hands were sweaty. But you couldn't take off your layers. You can't stand to be exposed.

It was such a struggle to keep your eyelids open and sit up straight whenever you sat down. How long had you slept today?? Somewhere from twelve to fourteen hours you think but you weren't sure. No matter how much you slept it never got any better. That sleepy sluggishness never went away. You weren't sure when this started or why it started, it just sorta did.

You started noticing little petty, sad things more often. Those depressing articles on the newspaper were suddenly ldrawing your eyes in more often- the whispers of passerbys were suddenly louder. Your dear fiance, Lyney's late arrivals home lately suddenly left you feeling lonelier for some reason. You knew he wasn't cheating on you, although you know he has his own secrets of which he is entitled, he would never stoop to something as low as that. He was just working overtime again which stressed you out like it would any respectable future wife/husband. Maybe that's what gotten to you.

You shifted in the cotton covers of your bed to your other side, sniffing. This sickness had stuck with you for an entire month. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but you did struggle to eat sometimes. You hadn't actually thrown up, but sometimes you just couldn't stomach the thought of food and after eating you felt like you would.

You had only left the bed once today to go to the market and purchase something for Lyney. You can't even remember what it is you bought or why you felt the sudden urge to go get him something but you do remember you left it on his night stand. He hadn't really done anything super spectacular lately but he was always so sweet and kind to you so you suppose the guilt and need to do something just built up over time. You had always been pretty bad about that, feeling guilty. Like you weren't doing enough or that you weren't good enough. Especially for Lyney. You still can't believe he asked you to marry him.

(("Hello? My love are you awake?"))

You must have been thinking too loudly and your thoughts summoned him because his voice and the creaking of the door pierced the once silent room.

(("Oh my, at least tell me you've left bed to feed yourself today!"))

Lyney said as he stepped in the room to opened the curtains much to your dismay after setting his magician's hat on your nightstand,

(("Don't open the curtains the sun is my worst enemy."))

You mutter as you grab a pillow and hide you head under it.

(("Well good afternoon to you too (N/N)!"))

He chuckled as he headed over to your shared closet, changing into a much more comfortable outfit.

(("Got you something at the market, s' on your nightstand Lyn."))

You lazily pointed to the nightstand, head still hidden under the pillow.

(("Oh? What could I have done recently that was so superb that my dear (Y/N) got out of bed and left the house to fetch me a reward?"))

Lyney teased as he pulled a white oxford over his head, buttoning the last couple buttons up.

(("Just love you."))

You muttered while shifting sides again. You felt the weight of the bed shift and the pillow raise from your head. A pair of cheeky lavender eyes gleaned at you paired with a wide, Cheshire smile, Lyney's smile.

(("There's that gorgeous face~!"))

You felt yourself growing more tired by the second, almost like Lyney was sucking your energy away or something. Either way you were too tired to even verbally respond so you just lazily blinked at him and hoped he could read your mind.

(("My, did you use up all your energy going out? Love, as much as I am proud of you for leaving the house and grateful for you generosity, you simply cannot wear yourself out!"))

Lyney chided as he caressed your cheek which you gladly accepted,

(("It's just as bad for you to use up all your energy at once as it is for you to sit in bed all day and do nothing! Oh my, this is probably my fault for coming home so late recently..."))

The blonde fretted and frowned,

(("I know! I haven't any shows for the next 2 weeks seeing as they are repairing our usual stage, so I shall spend the whole of those 2 weeks with you helping you back to your feet!"))

He beamed so radiantly it was almost annoying. Keyword, almost. Lyney could never actually be annoying to you. You still groaned and hid your face under the pillow again to hide yourself from his bright attitude much to his amusement though.

Lyney kicked off his shoes and stretched himself, yawning.

(("Well I suppose I am tired too so a nap can't hurt, right? But when I wake up I expect you to get up with me for some dinner love! Think you can do that for me?"))

His amethyst eyes stared into your lazy (e/c) ones, how could you deny him any request when he looks at you like that? You lazily shook your head yes and he smiled brightly before pulling you in for some cuddles.

It was gonna take some time, but Lyney was determined to pull you out of this funk you've gotten yourself into no matter how long it takes. After all, he does loves you.

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Goodbye Don't Last Forever

Javey. Kind of funny ngl. Enjoy.

David Jacobs was eighteen and newly graduated when his girlfriend, Francis Sullivan, left for Santa Fe, leaving no goodbye and no way to contact her.

David went crazy when she left. He loved her and she left without a word to him. He made some stupid (but not too regrettable) decisions in the time after. Dyed his dirty blonde hair a dark shade of brown. Started wearing his glasses again. Went outside only when required (as in almost never). Stopped talking to many of his friends.

Only two of the habits died, and fortunately it was those last two. He found himself to be pretty fine within a few months of her being gone.

Six years later, David Jacobs was 24 years old and getting a new roommate.

"Hi, are you David?" A confident voice came from behind him.

He turned to face- woah he's hot- the person asking the question.

"Yeah, yes, that's me. David Jacobs. Hi."

The man smiled and held out a hand to shake.

"Jack Kelly."

Those eyes... that handshake. So familiar. But the familiarity was out of reach in David's mind.

So he stood up a little straighter, smiled back, and said, "Nice to meet you in person finally. I mean I trusted Albert enough to not find me a serial killer roommate but... I feel very assured now, haha..."

"I won't kill ya, Davey."

Davey...

"Good to know. Same here. Do you need help taking anything up?"

Jack shook his head. "All I's got is this." He nodded to a moderately sized suitcase that he was gripping.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't-"

"It's nothing, Dave. I just had to leave kinda quickly and didn't have much anyways."

"Well, uh. Let me uh... I guess, follow me?"

...

David was down bad for his roommate. And, down bad as in like, Taylor Swift "if I can't have him/I might just die it would make no difference."

Something about him, Jack, felt so familiar in all the most wonderful ways. His smile was a smile David felt like he had seen dozens of times.

David wanted to know why. He wanted to know why this boy felt so natural in the environment. Why he seemed to be the missing piece in David's life.

He was going to find out.

Not today though, he decided, when Jack entered the apartment looking like he was about to burst into tears.

"Hey, are you okay?" David asked slowly.

Jack nodded stiffly, putting his head down and throwing his bag and coat to the floor.

"Jack, you look sad."

"I'm fine."

"Jack."

"I ain't- you don't gotta be all in my business." Jack was heading to his tiny bedroom, so David grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You can tell me, you know?"

Jack leaned forward, hugging David, beginning to cry.

"Woah, hey. Hey, it's alright, let it out..." David wished Jack would hug him more often, and not while crying.

Jack continued to cry for maybe three minutes, David didn't know exactly. What David did know is that when Jack made eye contact with him, he looked like he had done something horrible.

"I ain't a real boy, Dave."

David's heart could have shattered just then, hearing Jack sound so broken.

"What do you mean, you aren't a real boy?"

"I wasn't- I'm not- I am a boy. I know and promise that I am but I just- wasn't born that way and I feel like a fraud and I get sad sometimes."

"That's okay to be sad, Jack. But you're a boy, I know you are. If you say you're a boy, you're a boy. No, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Okay, Jack Kelly, you are no boy, you're a freakin' man."

Jack smiled a little, wiping his eyes dry.

"Thank ya, Davey."

...

David was having none of this "stay up until 3 AM painting" bullshit.

"Jack Kelly, you will start going to bed at a decent time or so help me-"

"I'm fine, Dave!" Jack defended himself.

"You drank four coffees today and three energy drinks. I don't even know how you're still alive!"

"Fine, fine. I will be in bed no later than midnight."

"Is that the best I'm gonna get?"

"Yup."

David sighed, deciding to give in.

"At least show me what you've been working on into the ungodly hours of the night?"

"Maybe someday." Jack smiled mysteriously and disappeared once again into his room.

David was not staring at his fine ass as he retreated. He wasn't.

...

"Davey, do you got any food?"

David was regretting getting a roommate but also enjoyed having someone around. He didn't appreciate having to buy random shit every other week because Jack had a craving and pretty much no money. (He spent his money on rent and art supplies, which David didn't mind because his apartment was cheaper and Jack's art was amazing.)

"We have fruit snacks and spaghetti-o's if that qualifies as food. We might also have a banana."

Jack strolled into the kitchen area after David's previous statement and pulled out a packet of fruit snacks, a can of spaghetti-o's, and the blender.

"What the fuck are you doing?" David asked, shocked and amused all at once.

"I'm making me some dinner, you want some?"

"Jack, there is no way in Hell you are going to eat- drink spaghetti-o's and fruit snacks put through the blender. It's gonna be terrible."

"Actually, no it isn't. My old friend dared me to do it and it actually tastes good."

David had a brief memory flash through his mind.

"Francis! I dare you to put the two most different things you can think of in the blender and then drink it." Race shouted.

"Okay, I'll do it." Francis smiled that daredevil smile of hers and got started. Spaghetti-o's and fruit snacks.

When it was complete, Francis took a long drink.

"Wow. That's actually not terrible."

"Davey, you good?"

David nodded. "Sorry, just. You just reminded me of something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Ex-girlfriend."

"Thought you said you're gay?"

"She kind of helped me out on discovering that."

"Well. That's nice of her. How so?"

"Uh. It's a long story."

"I bet I can handle it. Besides, I have an abomination to drink. I'll listen."

"Oh. Okay. Well. Basically, she decided she was going to Santa Fe and wasn't going to, you know, say goodbye to me or anyone. And I spent a long time angry and then realized I didn't really miss her romantically at all and just was pissed, and then me and my friend Albert accidentally fucked when we were drunk and I was like 'wow that's allowed?' and anyways uh Al and I aren't and weren't interested in each other at all, we were just drunk like I said, but then it all made sense why I wasn't like, sad over the 'love of my life' leaving because it was just a high school girlfriend and I'm not even into girls. So I'm not even mad at her anymore really I'm just gay and confused and I've talked a lot now sorry."

David looked up at Jack for a reaction. He was wearing this face... David could not name the emotion.

"What was her name?"

Huh. Weird question.

"Why?"

"Well, I was just wonderin' if maybe I met her, since I's come here from Santa Fe and all."

"Oh. Yeah, uh. Her name's Francis Sullivan."

"Have a picture?"

"Yeah, one sec." David scrolled through his phone's camera roll until he found her. "Here."

The picture made Jack frown, and David kind of would have done anything to make him smile again.

"You know her?" David asked.

"Yeah, uh. I knew her."

David's heart sped up.

"Really? Is she doing okay? Is she alright? Do you know where she lives, cause I might need to go-"

"Davey. Stop."

"What?"

"You can't exactly go visit her."

"Why not?"

Jack seemed to be looking inside himself instead of at David when he spoke.

"She was... the real depressed type, Dave. Always sad. She never smiled, I don't think. She was in a real bad state of mind."

"What're you-"

"She ain't alive no more."

Everything stopped in David's head.

"What?"

"I'm real sorry, Dave. She just ain't... But I'm here."

"What's that supposed to mean? 'You're here?'"

Jack hesitated before opening his mouth. "She didn't exactly... die the way you're thinking. She, uh. She just... more... changed? She ain't Francis anymore. She cut her hair and went on T and got top surgery and goes by a boy's name now, and he/him. So, uh, tellin' ya she died was probably not the brightest idea but that was an in-the-moment decision."

"Good for him. What does that have to do with you being here?"

Jack made absolute eye contact with David, wondering how he could be so fucking stupid, and held it. Held it as he crossed the room and held it up until the moment he pulled David into a hug.

"I'm sorry for leavin' you. I just had ta get away."

David jerked away from Jack in a quick movement.

"You? You're... You- I can't-" David's brain was moving too quickly and all he could think to do was punch Jack in the face as hard as humanly possible.

Which he did.

"Son of a bitch- Dave! I only told ya cause I thought you said ya weren't mad anymore!"

"Yeah, well. Now I am, asshole. You... You deep friend burnt-ass dino nugget dickhead. You absolute.... I can't even. How dare you? I fucking loved you, yes even if I'm gay now, and you, you just ran the fuck off and never bothered contacting me for six years. I would have understood if you needed to leave, needed to leave me, needed... whatever. I would have given you your space. I hate you."

Jack looked hurt. It made David feel good. All that pain he went through and it was being passed on.

"Davey-"

"David."

"Right, sorry. David. I'm really sorry. I don't- I never meant ta hurt you. To be honest, I thought you'd be glad if I left and never came back."

David felt less good.

"I just- I wanted to feel like I could be free. It didn't really... go as planned. Because I just realized I wanted to come back. Mostly for you."

David didn't stop to think. David just kissed Jack like he was hungry for it.

"I fucking hate you." He said, pulling away.

"No you don't."

"Don't test your luck."

A small moment of touching silence passed.

"So..." Jack started. "You slept with Al?"

"Now I actually do hate you. Get out, I'm calling him. Maybe he'll be nice to me."

"Davey... I love you. I always did."

"I'm... good to know. I can't- I'm still mad, bitch."

Jack just laughed, and he knew right then that it would all be fine.

A/N: hope y'all liked it :) It'll be on ao3 asap

[azurlily]

Hello, how are you? I hope you're alright (:

Is it possible to request an Azula x gn reader with an arranged marriage trope (both reader and Azula are aged up of course)? Both of them have feelings for eachother, but since Azula doesn't want to accept that they were married against her will and reader values morals like honesty and sincerity very much (those morals are of course humiliated by Azula on a daily basis lol) they need a bit of time to really find together.

I hope you like the request, please have a great day (:

Ooooo I like this!! I'm doing well! Better than before! I'd like to point put that this is the last month I'll do a specific reader type(shy reader, trans reader, mean reader, you get the idea).

ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA THIS SOUNDS SO INTERESTING TO ME!! Sorry if I didn't get it exactly right!

"I haven't done anything wrong! If you didn't want that old man to get hurt- oh- and you're crying...sorry?"

Azula doesn't know what too rough means. She also doesn't know what mean means. She assumes you cry because you're sad or angry, not because...of her. Okay, maybe she knows, she just doesn't want to admit it.

Azula sees your sincerity and honesty, she sees it as weakness at first. Slowly it becomes one of the things she loves about you the most. How lying is wrong, and hoe you want people to be happy. She sees it as something to protect. You don't see this type of thing often.

Azulas feelings blossom when you start bringing her things. It's your way of showing your love and interest in her. You bring her things she likes, or things you've been told she likes. There has been an occasion where she lied about liking something and you learned about it. You chided and scolded her for a few days.

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm listening. What we're you saying, uh-"

She finds herself falling in love with you. Wanting to watch you more and more often, seeing all the nice things you do. It's a complete contrast for her, and she knows it. That's why she likes it so much. Azula likes knowing something so different is more than willing to be by her side.

She does mention you and your family to her father. Wether you're an important figurehead or not, she wants to see you higher up. Azula wants a reason to be closer to you; her father acknowledging your family. Well- that's just an amazing reason. She does try and help your status, she wants people know you. Know how amazing and beautiful/handsome you are.

When her father and your parents have a meeting. They talk about Azula and your common interest in eachother. They talk and come to an "obvious" conclusion. The two of you should marry. Your family could help influence, and maybe a lifetime partner will help Azula be a bit more interested in in the things her father wants.

(Not like she isn't already)

They finalize everything before either of you know. They have everything signed and agreed upon, then wait some time. The closer the two of you are, the easier this will be.

Anyway this marriage is definitely not one that anyone else would have seen coming. Azula, on the other hand, knew. That's why she's been pulling away recently. She doesn't want to be married to you forcefully, even if you are cute.

Even though Azula has strong feelings about you, it takes a damn while for her to admit it. When the two of you are hidden in the darkness of her room. Her hands holding your own, her face much too close to yours. The warmth of it all, the love and kindness she'd rarely ever show.

It was all ruined when the marriage was announced. At first you were both dumbfounded. How could this have happened? Right under your noses?

Azula, instead of feeling a sort of happiness, being happy that her relationship with you is secure. Instead she's angry, how dare she be forced to marry you. Marry someone so kind, so truthful, so sweet. It felt like she was drowning in her own angry fire.

She goes from watching you talka bout something you were interested in, to glaring when you even mention love. Azula hates how weak your tears make her, she tries to avoid them. Her being a bitch all the time doesn't help.

Azula, during the wedding planning was nothing short of rude. You tries talking to her, giving her idea on how to make things more her style. She refused to listen. Why would she listen when her father wouldn't care in the slightest!?

"Mhm, yeah. Listen [Name], I understand you're sweet and you want this wedding to be about me, but I dont care."

Over time she's gone from being a bitch, to teasing you. While she doesn't like that she was forced into a relationship, she does like you. So it, in a way, evens out.

About three or four months into the marriage shes back to herself. She's back to pulling you into rooms with a cold glare...only to kiss your lips and walk away. She teases you when you see a hurt animal and run to help it.

Secretly though, she adores seeing you. She adores your truths, she adores how you value the real her. She adores every bit of you, especially when you give her a sweet smile and hold her hand. She makes fun and pushes you around(hopefully you know she doesn't always mean to be rude) but in reality, seeing you just makes her day.

Of course there is the darker side of things.

"Stop crying. I'm not apologizing, you know I'm right. So what if I lied!? I haven't hurt you."

That's what she doesn't understand. Why would you feel empathy for others? She could understand her, yourself, family(barely), even friends. She doesn't get why you'd feel back about someone that doesn't matter. These ideals of her strain your relationship. You fight, and she refuses to admit her wrongdoings. Anymore at least.

She needs time to understand she's done something wrong. You need time to calm down and see things from her eyes. She was forced into a relationship, no matter how close you two were. It was still against her will. Taking away her freedom, taking away her ability to choose you as her forever.

The two of your fight a lot, and you're both hurtful sometimes. That doesn't mean either of you loslve the other any less. It just means you don't agree. She takes time to learn you, see what to and not to tease you about. You take time to see what she sees, to see her fears and anger.

Your relationship does mend, it take a year or two, but it mends. And you two come out stronger than ever. I mean, it's not like either of you have the choice to leave the other.

Sorry if you didn't like it. I tried, but I didn't fully understand what you meant. Also sorry it's short. I have a lot of Azula requests and I didn't realise how much yall like her.

[lizzie-is-here]

bucky barnes oneshot

the white cat

bucky barnes x fem!reader

a late night stop at the animal shelter, a truck, and a dinner date

a/n: not bucky’s cat being named after the place he died 💀 anyway sorry i’ve disappeared i got busy lmao. BUT. i have an idea for a new series based entirely off a winterguard show i was told ab this year by dupont manual so we’ll see if it goes anywhere 👀

the white cat pt. 2

Working at an animal shelter had its benefits.

For all the sad stories you often had, you also got to save pets, watch them get healthier, and most of the time, go to a loving home.

Plus, every so often, a very attractive customer would come in, and, seeing as you are the only employee constantly in the so-called “meeting room” for potential adoptees, you would help them.

Today was one of those days. Or, rather, nights.

Technically, you were closed. Everyone else had left earlier and you’d stayed to clean up. You were sweeping up fur and treats, listening to the radio as you worked.

The man outside the window showed up around 8:56.

Normally, you’d be creeped out. A woman, alone, while a man stared at her through a window? It’s the plot of, like, every Scream movie.

But you recognized this man. He’d been showing up the past few days, not to ogle you, but to ask questions about the cats you had, what he’d need to buy, what kind of care they needed.

You’ve only seen him, never actually talked to him, but he seems sweet. A bit shy, very nervous.

“Hi.” You wave and the man looks behind him before pointing at himself. Laughing, you nod. “Yes, you.”

Setting down a cup of pens, you unlock and open the door for him.

“Sorry about coming in so late. Are you guys even open?” He fiddles with his glove-covered hands, turned a bit awkwardly so his left side is further away.

You shrug, not wanting to scare him off. “We can be. What can I help you with?”

He scratches at the back of his neck before pointing towards the back. “Can I get a cat?” He pauses before barreling on. “I’ve done all the research, got all the stuff set up back at my apartment, and honestly…”

He trails off a bit. “I think it’d help with some… stuff.”

You understand. Plenty of people need company, and you could confidently say that animals provided plenty of that.

“No problem,” you smile. “Come with me.”

Leading him back, you don’t comment on the fact that he makes no noise when he walks, or how a soft, pleasant whirring like quiet machinery has reached your ears.

The meeting room has a few beanbag chairs, a table, and cat and dog toys scattered around. The mystery man sits cross-legged on the floor, looking up at you with eyes that make you think he might be the puppy.

He looks around, a little lost. “So, what do I…”

You pick up where he leaves off. “Are you looking for anything particular?”

He shakes his head, and some of that shyness seems to shake away too.

“No, I trust your judgment.” He smiles. You ignore the warmth in your cheeks and whisk away to the back, looking into the kennels until you find what you’re looking for.

A young cat, only a few months old. Just came in last week. Every time that man has come in, she’s been excited.

“Alpine, sweetie, c’mere.” You gently coax her into your waiting arms, cradling the white fluff as you head back to the room.

It’s impossible to miss how his eyes light up when he sees you, even more so when he spies the cat.

You sit across from him, so close your knees touch, and pass off Alpine.

“She’s so small,” he whispers, almost reverently. You chuckle, watching her climb unceremoniously into his lap.

“She likes you. Been trying to see you all week.” His eyes are still fixated on the little white blob that contrasts his jacket. “Her name’s Alpine, unless you wanna change it?”

He pauses, laughs a bit like there’s some inside joke there, and shakes his head. “No- no, Alpine’s perfect.”

A few minutes later, he’s filling out the paperwork and making small talk when you finally notice his name and age.

James Buchanan Barnes, age 106.

The ex-Winter Soldier. The Howling Commando. The Fallen Sergeant.

He notices you mentally smacking yourself and holds out his right hand.

“Hi, I’m Bucky. Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he chuckles.

You wave a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry if I made you feel weird.”

Bucky shakes his head and readjusts Alpine. Steeling his nerves, he gives you his best smile and finally does the second thing he was hoping to achieve tonight.

“No, no, you didn’t make me feel weird at all. In fact-“ He meets your curious gaze. “-I was wondering if you like to go out sometime?”

You can feel the blush you know he can see, but manage to respond anyway.

“Yeah, I’d really like that, actually.”

Apparently, he isn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly, and pauses for a bit.

“I- Uh, what’s a good time?”

You gesture around. “I get off work tomorrow at 7:30?”

“I’ll be here.”

The two of you enjoy the moment, Alpine purring softly in Bucky’s arms. It’s perfect.

Until a car horn honks from outside. Heading out, you see a truck with three other people in it.

Three other Avengers, to be exact.

“Thought you’d never be done!” Sam Wilson jokes from the driver’s seat. From the passenger’s, Natasha Romanoff waves while Steve Rogers opens the back door for the soldier next to you.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry, they’re being stupid,” he grumbles. “But, I’ve only got a motorcycle, so I needed some help.”

“It’s cute that they came along,” you say. “Still on for tomorrow?”

He laughs and gestures to the truck. “If those heathens haven’t scared you away, then yes. Absolutely.”

“I’ll see you then?”

“See you then, doll.”

[megu-meow]

kiss it better - Gojo Satoru

gojo x fem. reader

Summary: Gojo is sad after your break-up.

TW: angst, some swear words, heartbroken Gojo (I feel like he's out of character too, sorry)

There are not many instances Gojo Satoru remembers where his feelings got the best of him. Growing up he developed an attitude through which he didn't get too involved with anything, however, he had a strong sense of what's worth fighting for and what is not. When he met Megumi after killing his father, Gojo couldn't let the boy go through his childhood alone, without a parental figure around, so he took the raven-haired boy in.

When his best friend went rogue, he made a pact to not let anyone feel alone again. At that time, he voiced this to Shoko as well, but the young healer misunderstood him. You see, Gojo Satoru never felt truly alone in his life. He was surrounded by people throughout his life, some were closer to him and some were mere acquaintances, but he never felt lonely, contrary to Geto. Of course, the possessor of the six eyes thought that Suguru was weak for dealing with his feelings by developing insane beliefs, but he couldn't blame him for one second, not even on the day of his death.

Gojo Satoru has strong opinions and an unshakeable sense of self, he doesn't really need anyone to rely on or to be by his side. He just wants to keep the people around him safe, he wants to ensure a brighter future for all of his students, and all in all, he wants the world to be a better place.

So why is it so hard for him to get out of bed lately? Why is it hard to do his job? When did his favorite desserts stop making him feel better?

He knows the answers to all of those questions, but he doesn't want to admit it. He lost a lot of people in his life, and the sorcerer world is full of grief, but you walking out of his life is on a very different level.

The two of you met a couple of months back, you were a new addition to the sorcerer squad in Kyoto, but you requested a transfer to Tokyo after an incident with Principal Gakuganji, you nearly killed the old geezer after you found out that he wanted to have some cursed kid executed. Gojo thought the whole situation was hilarious and he waited curiously for your arrival. He didn't expect you to be so perfect. You were stunning, with a lovely personality. You were passionate, a strong-willed woman with insane abilities and a strong desire to reshape the jujutsu world. You and Gojo quickly became good friends, the two of you fit together like two puzzle pieces. He loved the way you acted with his students, you were easy-going and fun to be around, and you often radiated crackhead energy like Yuji did, the two of you were always up to no good. You often lent books to Megumi, and the raven-haired boy enjoyed talking to you about philosophy and other serious topics, Gojo noticed how the boy often decided to seek your advice in different situations. You also took Nobara shopping a lot and the two of you would often indulge in girly nights where you did your nails or hair and talked about makeup.

It didn't take long for Gojo Satoru to develop feelings for you. How could he not? You were everything the didn't know he needed. You were easy to talk to, you remembered everything he shared, and you kept checking up on him. The last person to ask him about his well-being was Geto and Satoru sometimes felt guilty for comparing you to his best friend, but he couldn't help it.

He asked you out after a few months of meeting you and for some reason, you accepted his advances. He was a great guy, caring and goofy, but he could also give amazing advice due to his many life experiences. It wasn't hard to fall for him and you didn't mind becoming his girlfriend.

"Pretty girl, you are the love of my life, you belong to me. The next time Sukuna makes an appearance and asks you to sit on his throne just tell me and I'll show him the ways of the Honored One." he said playfully one time after Yuji mentioned how the King of Curses had a crush on you.

"Satoru, sweetheart, jealousy is not your color."

"You wound me, my kikufuku. Just say you love me back, pleaseeeee." he whined, embracing you a bit too harshly and you rolled your eyes, amused by the white-haired sorcerer's antics.

"I love you, Satoru. You don't have to worry about anyone else, I'm here to stay."

So what went wrong?

Gojo knew he fucked up. He knew he was an open book and an enigma at the same time. There were things he willingly shared with you and there were some he kept a secret with all he had. He witnessed as the two of you started drifting apart slowly, his own secrets forcing you to start building a wall around yourself so that you could keep yourself safe, away from heartbreak. You could read people easily, especially when it came to Satoru. You didn't need to snoop around to know he wasn't completely honest with you, he kept his missions and anything related to them a secret, you never knew if you were gonna see him the next day or if he would be gone for a few days. It killed you to watch the person you loved the most keeping such important aspects of his life from you. In his defense, everything he did was to protect you from the horrifying truth of what his life actually was and the gloominess and grief he had to carry on his shoulders. He wanted to give you everything that was good and bright in this world, he didn't want you to feel bad ever again. He didn't realize how bad he was hurting you with his attitude.

When you broke things off with him your eyes were full of tears, the salty drops of water were racing down your cheeks and your voice was scratchy and broken. He never wanted to feel the way he did that day. He never felt so heartbroken, not even on the day of Suguru's death. He knew his best friend was a liability and that there was no way to save him, but your breakup was avoidable. He could have changed, he had many opportunities to be honest with you, but he kept his secrets. He could have spared your fragile heart from all the misery he brought upon you.

"Gojo, you have to wake up. I can't take on any more of your missions, they're getting out of hand." Nanami implored, as he stood at the foot of the white-haired sorcerer's bed. Satoru was hiding under a pile of blankets, one with cute Dalmatian puppies sitting on top. It was one he bought on a mission knowing that the animated movie 101 Dalmatians was your childhood favorite. You left it there on accident and for some reason, Gojo failed to put it away after your breakup.

"Okay, I'm up." he groaned, getting out of bed and walking into his closet to put on his uniform. Nanami observed his senpai, he looked... rough. The bounce was missing from his steps, his hair was messy, tangled into his blindfold and he didn't make any silly remarks towards the blonde since he arrived. The Strongest was truly heartbroken, no-one knew how to make him feel better.

"Fucking breakup." Satoru muttered as he kept punching the special-grade cursed spirit that he was ordered to exorcise upon his return to Jujutsu Tech. Apparently, beating the living shit out of ugly creatures was a great coping mechanism. "Fuck feelings! It doesn't matter how ugly you are, you'll never be as twisted of a curse as love." he said to his opponent, delivering the final blow. He observed as the curse disappeared, heavy breaths were leaving his chest and the bruises on his knuckles healed up in an instant.

"You told me love wasn't a curse after all." he instantly turned around upon hearing your soothing voice. He took in your appearance, you didn't look your best either. Your uniform was hanging looser from your body than before, your skin got paler and your eyes were red and puffy.

"Well, I don't know what to think anymore, because it sure as hell feels like you cursed me when you broke things off." he confesses sadly, his covered eyes glued to his shoes. He feels your energy getting closer to him and he contemplates whether he should stop you or not.

"Toru..."

"Please don't! You're gonna break my heart even more..."

You don't listen, stepping closer to him, touching his cheeks gently. He leans into your touch on instinct, enjoying the close proximity. He knows he'll hate himself later for letting it happen, but he needs this. He needs your touch, he needs to hear your voice, he needs to hear your heartbeat. He needs you.

You slowly lift his blindfold, the soft material feels damp and you instantly notice the salty tears running down his face. You pull him down a bit and you start kissing away the droplets racing down his cheeks. He can't help it, he embraces you, soft and silent sobs wreck through his lanky but muscular body.

"I'm so sorry, my kikufuku. I promise I will never keep anything hidden from you, not again. Just please, come back to me. I can't live without you. I love you, you're my sunshine, my source of happiness, the one that keeps me grounded. Please..."

"I love you too, 'Toru."

"You do?" he asks with hopeful eyes.

"Of course. This breakup was the most horrible thing I had to do, it was torture. I don't want to spend more time away from you…please forgive me, lover boy."

He slightly steps away, but he doesn't hesitate to cup your cheeks, pressing his soft, pink lips on yours. You feel his tears mixing with yours, but you longed for this feeling for weeks now, ever since you two broke up. Suddenly, it feels like a curse has been lifted, everything falls back into place, and Satoru thanks every single god there is that you're back in his arms.

[purelyfiction]

the name of someone i no longer know

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,406 words

Summary: it's stick season what can i say? also maybe this is whump-tober coded who knows

Content Warning:  alcohol use/abuse, maybe alcoholism, dui mention, police interaction, drunk jake, a little aggression, heartbreak and all around sad

Author Note: what the summary said

Jake had loved California for the reasons that it never seemed to rain. It was flooded with lots of sunshine, beaches and bars. Good music, good friends, good girls and bad decisions to be made.

Until he was sent back to the thick of it - sent to Annapolis to be shipped off for some form of deployment, only to be delayed due to concerns for the ship. Instead of sending him back to California, they'd kept him in Maryland.

Maryland was his personal Hell on Earth.

Flooded with memories of the cooler months, pumpkin patches filled with your laugh, dive bars he'd lost himself in like corn mazes he'd held onto you in. This place haunted him. Especially when it rained and God, did it rain in this damned state.

Another Friday of work slips away from him, until he's at the old bar whose name had been a weapon in the fallout. Jake sits peeling labels of a local beer - they were out of Bud. The jukebox plays a song he doesn't recognize and a couple laughs in the corner of the bar top.

That corner had housed the two of you all those years ago. Conversations about drunken college nights, holidays spent with friends instead of family while deployed, promises made that he'd broken only months later.

His collection of beer bottle caps is turning into a small mountain in front of him. Until the bartender is tapping the wood in front of him. "Last one, pal."

Green eyes groggily flip up to meet his, brows furrowing. "Huh?"

"You've had enough for the night, man." The bartender slides his receipt toward him, the pen alongside it rolling off and onto the floor. The blonde sits up with annoyance.

"I'm fine, first off," Jake slides from the barstool to retrieve the pen off the floor - only to crack his head on the underside of the bar when he stands up, "fuck!"

The man from the corner comes to his side, "Are you alright? That looked like it hurt." When the stranger grabs his arm, Jake rights himself and shoves him back into a barstool.

"Don't touch me." He spits. The stranger holds up his hands to show he's backing off.

"You need a ride." The bartender is pulling his phone from his pocket, Jake shakes his head.

"No, no I'm-" a hiccup breaks his train of thought. The sum of the bill catches his eye and he groans, dropping his initials onto the paper.

"I'll just order you an Uber, where you going?"

"I said no, I can drive." The barkeep nearly gives Jake the stink eye now. As the blonde fumbles his way to the front door, he nearly eats it at the front stoop. He manages to find his way to his truck - a rental no less - he pauses at the sight of an old Jeep Liberty.

The last time he was in Annapolis, he'd bought a cheap one exactly like it off of Facebook Marketplace. He'd needed a way to get around, and considering how often he bounced around, there was no need to buy anything worthwhile.

That same Jeep that you'd refused to get into the passenger seat of one night. You were leaving a friend's Thanksgiving. He'd had too much to drink. You begged him to let you drive, seeing that you were sober - he wouldn't have any of it.

He'd left you in the driveway of your friend's place along the water, snow and all. Annapolis police had him in their custody not even twenty minutes later. Jake had friends in the navy ranks in Maryland, that had helped him avoid a dishonorable discharge at the time - he no longer had those friends.

He also no longer had you.

Jake makes sure his rental is locked before he starts down the road in the direction of the naval base.

His steps are uneasy, a bit sporadic as he walks aimlessly in one direction. A film reel serves as his entertainment for his walk back. Scenes from two years of love, a whole six months of downward spiral toward heartbreak. Total, gut-wrenching and life wrecking heartache. Self-inflicted he now realizes.

The breakup was sharp. His things were packed up. Put into the Liberty. You'd taken your key back, deleted your number from his phone and told him to forget you even lived on the same continent. He'd promised you'd never hear from him.

Jake looks up after a cold round drop plops onto his head. Followed by another. His feet stop walking as he stares up at the rain beginning to fall, the street lamps serving as a backdrop as the downpour begins. He stands there. Watching the rain. His head drops to meet the river running under him, the bridge he stands on giving a viewing point as the speed picks up.

A car slows to a stop just behind him. The headlights make him squint, slowly moving a hand up to block the LEDs that blind him.

"It's a bit wet out here, don't you think?" A voice calls from the side of the vehicle, the door shutting in tandem to another on the symmetrical side of the car.

"Rain'll do that." He snidely retorts, leaning into the jersey barrier along the bridge.

"You think you might wanna find a dry place to settle in? It's getting late, afterall." A second voice consoles him, and Jake realizes why the lights are so damn bright. He'd recognize the striping of the Anapolis police anywhere.

"Ah, I'm-" Another hiccup, "I'm trying to." An older male comes in the rain, graying facial hair, a well trimmed beard as he approaches.

"You look a little lost there, boy."

If only this damn officer knew the half of it.

Neither of them mention his slow reaction times. Or reveal that they'd received a tip from a rather concerned bartender. Instead, they carefully guide him to the backseat of the cruiser. No handcuffs are involved, no harsh words spoken, not a single arrest made.

That doesn't stop Jake from reciting your name, your address and phone number.

Anapolis' police station is dated. The linoleum is scuffed and worn - a creamier brown than he remembers.

"You.. wanna call somebody to come get you, son?"

"I've got- I'll just call her. She'll come." When he pulls his phone from his pocket it's either too cold, too wet, or too dead - or some combination of the three.

The officer with the mustache that matched that of an old friend's hands him two dollars in change, pointing him in the direction of the payphones.

Nine digits. He's got them memorized, though he swore he would forget them.

One ring. Two rings. Four.

Finally- "Hello?"

Your name leaves his lips like a prayer.

The end tone sounds like a gunshot.

Another pair of quarters.

Dial tone. Ring three. Ring four. Voicemail.

Two dollars gone.

"Alright, kid, lets get you sat down for a minute." Jake firms up like an oak tree when the officer grabs his shoulder.

"Hold on, just- I need a charger. Something- she'll call. You've got more change? Just a quarter-" He turns to a nearby woman, desperately leaning toward her, his balance wavering enough that the cop comes to his shoulder again to keep him upright.

"Have you had much to drink tonight, son?"

"I- Didn't- she's gonna call." He mumbles as the officer slowly guides him to a seat. Green eyes look up at the older man and then to the tinted window at the end of the corridor.

"Hate to tell you this... but I don't think she will."

Jake shoots up again, almost falling on his ass.

"She will- I- let me call her again- just one more time-"

The officer resists Jake and his sluggish effort to move back to the phones, finally gripping onto the pilot.

"Sit. I'm gonna get you some water and we-"

"Fuck that. Sir. I just need to get her on the phone- she's not far she-" His words begin on a carousel. Coming back again and again, repeating in the same pattern.

The plastic cup of water in his hands grows warm as he sits in the station. Two officers talk among themselves as they keep an eye on him, mentioning your name. Your address.

The phone number you refuse to use if he is on the other end of the line.

And he waits.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee *BONUS* Scene part 10

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, aftermath of being a weapon/semi-retired weapon, lost family, fractured memories, rejection, fluffy heart-to-heart conversation

"Yet we choose to love, again and again, open ourselves up to being hurt... because it is worth it for the reward. To steal those small moments of light in the darkness."

"You speak like someone who knows this invisible pain well," Whumpee cautiously ventured.

Flint's expression faltered, a hint of distant sadness crossing his features "I do," he whispered. "I know it far too well..." He paused for so long Whumpee wondered if he even planned on elaborating at all, or leaving him wondering.

"Have you... ever lost someone?" he pressed.

"Many times," Flint admitted sorrowfully. "It never gets easier to see those around you fall. I'm around it more than others are as leader of the army, fighting on the frontlines. I've seen a lot of death in my lifetime, mostly strangers, but... far too often people I knew personally. People I cared about too deeply." His voice hitched subtly, a trace of thick emotion in it, but he schooled his expression to be carefully neutral, with visible effort.

"Myra's mother -- my wife -- was one of those losses. You never truly get over stuff like that, no matter how hard brave men try to pretend otherwise. June was her name, and she died during a raid performed by Leader, a few months before he started showing up on the battlefield with you as his weapon to wield. As far as Myra knows, her mother died of natural causes, got cancer and passed away peacefully. But it was so terrible I couldn't bring myself to tell Myra the truth."

Flint took a deep, shaky breath to calm himself. "I had been traveling to the town my wife lived in to update her on the status of the war like I often did to reassure her, but I arrived to find the place torn apart and doors of houses busted down. And I will never forget the moment I found June lying in a pool of blood with a dozen bullet holes in her, never forget seeing her lifeless eyes. That memory will haunt me to the day I breathe my last breath, and I will carry a shard of that pain with me wherever I go. But it is by that pain that I know it was real."

Whumpee nodded thoughtfully, eyes softening slightly with a newfound understanding of Flint. Now he knew why the leader was so protective of his daughter and even his closest soldiers like Max and Jake, because they were like family to him. He was choosing to care about them and risk being hurt.

"How do you live with it?" Whumpee asked. "With the pain?"

"I surround myself with people who support me and my decisions, who are there when I need them. I cherish those who stay by my side through both the good times and hard. I never take them for granted. They are the main reason I'm able to carry my pain so well, even though the burden is heavy."

"...I don't know what to do about Miranda," Whumpee confessed. "Your wife died, and mine's still alive... but doesn't even remember me. How am I supposed to be at peace with that? At least if she were dead, I could have closure, but... her being alive yet fearing me almost feels a worse agony to suffer through."

Flint gave him a sympathetic glance. "It might just take time for Miranda to settle in," he suggested. "She was rescued alongside other prisoners -- I imagine that was rough for her. And then seeing you right after -- I think she might come around, once she realizes she's safe and free. And even if she doesn't... I, uh, I hope you know you've always got a place among my team or under the roof of my headquarters. You... don't have to struggle through this on your own."

Whumpee blinked at him in genuine surprise at the offer. It was like inviting him to be part of the family, though he knew there were plenty of men in Flint's headquarters who would have a problem with him.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@dragongodryss @theforeverdyingperson

[kiwi2229]

The way I see you

(James Potter / Regulus Black | 691 words)

For @jegulus-microfic prompt: Camera

CW: negative thoughts about own body

James is not paying much attention to his surroundings at the moment. He is more fixated on shuffling the cards in his hands. Regulus and he are spending their day in the park. It’s a beautiful sunny day. It’s not too hot but it’s warm enough to wear only shorts and a shirt. His parents taught him a lot of card games and he always loved them, so now he is teaching them to Regulus.

He watches the repetitive motion of his hands. It calms him. He lets his mind wander anywhere it wants in several different directions but for once he lets it go as much as it pleases concentrating on the cards. He is snaped from it by the familiar sound of a camera click. He looks up to see Regulus lowering a camera with a satisfied smile. His boyfriend loves taking photos and he always has this kompakt camera with him.

“Why are you always taking photos of me?” He asks because it’s true. Regulus indeed takes photos of James more often than anything else.

“Because you are beautiful,” Regulus answers without hesitation. James just shrugs because he never knows what to say to this. He’s not good at receiving compliments.

He shoots Regulus his practised smirk as he declares nonchalantly. “Well, make sure you capture my good side.” He swirls his head around to mess with his curls.

Regulus watches him for a moment with those searching eyes that leave James feeling bare. It’s like Regulus could see inside his soul. “I mean it, Jamie. You are beautiful.”

Now, why would he say that? Because the thing is, James doesn’t believe him. He knows he is not bad-looking meaning there is nothing particularly wrong with his appearance. But he could be a few inches taller, and maybe work a little bit harder on his body. His hair is always a mess no matter how much he tries. He has to wear glasses and there are several scars from his acne on his face. His arms sometimes feel too long and other times too short, but he definitely knows he has chubby fingers. The list could go on and on. There is nothing particularly wrong with his body but when he focuses enough on each part it could always be better. Because there isn’t anything outstanding about him. He is just an average-looking boy and nobody like average.

He shrugs and starts to place cards on the blanket. “Let’s play this game…” And he starts to explain the rules to the other boy who is once again looking at him with a searching look. For a moment James is afraid he will say something but, in the end, Regulus decides not to.

~.~.~.~.~

It’s probably a month after the picnic at the park. James is sitting in their living room trying to decide what movie they're gonna watch when Regulus sits beside him, but instead of popcorn in his hands, he has an envelope.

“I want to show you something, Jamie,” Regulus says softly and hands him the envelope. Inside there are several developed photos. And every single one has James in it. On some he is completely alone, on others, he is with his friends. James doesn’t know when Regulus took most of them. There are ones that he is smiling, some when he is focused with furrowed eyebrows, or with a faraway look suggesting he is not paying attention to his surroundings, on few of them he looks sad. The last one is the one Regulus took at the park with the word beautiful neatly written on the bottom. And well James never saw himself like this. Is this how he appears to the others? Because the images are different from what he usually sees in the mirror.

“This is how I see you,” Regulus whispers. “And at least for me, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

When James looks up, he sees Regulus smiling softly at him with nothing but sincerity on his face and he has to fight hard not to let the tears spill from the corners of his eyes.