#before they get a fish . even if it’s on short notice they are probably aware they’re abt to own a fish

[frogatz]

i love being a fish owner bc i actually don’t like being a fish owner . but i do love my single fish that has to live alone bc he’s a weird little freak that i did not plan on owning

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Dishonorably Discharged and Detained

Alpha Shark Man x Gender Neutral Omega Reader (CW: Dubcon, a/b/o, omega reader, DILF, size difference, shark man, merman, biting, marking, claiming, heat cycles, breeding, kidnapping, force fed reader, reader is briefly shocked by an electric fence, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 4.7k (18 minutes into March and already a fic is posted! This was written as a birthday gift for a friend, happy birthday, you know who you are, my longest friendship and trusted confidant. I hope you all enjoy this. Also I tagged this as a merman because I think it qualifies, even without a fish tail a person who is part fish counts. I will die on this hill.)

The dreadnought you were on sailed at a fair pace, ever forward, back to your base. It had been deployed to the front but the battle was over before you even had a chance to arrive, enemy presence in the area had been way overestimated and your unit had not been needed. The sea ahead of you lie calm and serene, the sun scintillating off the surface of the water and the salty breeze kissed your skin, feeling pleasant in your stuffy uniform. You were second in command of the ship directly behind Admiral Reeves, you were an omega but with hard work and perseverance you had managed to defy all expectations of what an omega could be, ranking higher than many alphas your age. This caused some issues when you had first achieved your current rank, but over time you had gained the respect and obedience of those under you as well as the respect of your superiors. You had become invaluable to Admiral Reeves both as a hard worker, a motivator of the troops, and even a strategist he could always call upon for a second opinion when planning on how to engage an enemy force or escape a harrowing situation. That wasn’t to say things were completely easy for you, whenever you were docked or dealing with other service members that were not in your unit you always had to stand strong against harassment and catcalls. And being constantly surrounded by so many alphas, and the pheromones that accompanied them, could sometimes make you more than a bit dizzy. Admiral Reeves’ pheromones were among the most potent, he was not a regular human like most of your peers. He was a shark man. A hybrid species that had been genetically engineered decades ago to help humans explore the seas and get an advantage in maritime combat. Reeves’ heritage was obvious. His sharp teeth, the fin on his back, webbed fingers, gills at the base of his neck, and pale blue skin giving him away to any who saw him. He was likely in his early fifties, it was slightly hard to tell though given he wasn’t completely human, but his short hair had an attractive peppering of grey. As mentioned previously his pheromones were much stronger than an average alpha’s. Probably because he was significantly larger than a normal human. It made being an omega near him all the time slightly difficult, but the main difficulty was that sometimes his cool headed handle on his instincts slipped a bit and he could be just a slight bit overprotective of you. He never disrespected you or questioned your ability to carry out your duties though. After enjoying a few minutes of sunlight and salty sea air you began to make your way back below deck to the dorsal side of the bow where the bridge was contained, you had to make contact with the mainland and give them your coordinates and estimated time of arrival. But before you could even leave the deck a sudden explosion sent you flying. You remained conscious just long enough to notice your right arm and leg were bleeding. You tried to get up but within seconds you collapsed. The next few weeks were a blur that you were almost entirely unconscious for, with only brief fragments of confused awareness. You remembered seeing medics above you, you remember a moment of being in the ship’s medical bay as the ship weaponry fired, and you remembered being awake several times briefly in a hospital bed. When you finally, REALLY, woke up you were in significant pain. Your arm and leg that you had seen bleeding were both in a cast with your leg suspended, your vision was a bit blurry, and your head was throbbing. You had great trouble concentrating, it took great effort to collect yourself and assess your situation. You were no longer in the ship’s medical bay and there were no windows in your room, it seemed very minimalist. Probably a military hospital on base. There was nothing really much you could do other than just try to relax and let yourself heal, eventually a nurse walked in and immediately rushed over to you to check your vitals and ask you a few questions to make sure you were fully aware and awake. After doing so she hurriedly rushed out, staff was under strict orders to notify Reeves the second that you were awake. Since the ship you had been stationed on, The Sentinel, was docked for repairs Reeves was currently at the naval base that you were receiving treatment from and it did not take long for him to be notified about your updated condition and come speeding to your side. You could tell immediately by his scent he had not been getting much sleep and he had been more than a bit anxious. Not surprising, probably lost some good soldiers in that battle and then having to wait as the ship was repaired or for him to get a new assignment was probably pretty stressful. You could have never imagined that the reason for his recent distress had actually been your hospitalization. But it had affected him in ways he would not have thought previously possible. He stood beside you with a huge grin on his face. On anyone and to anyone else it may have been frightful, given the sharp nature of his teeth, but you knew it was a good sign. “Nice to see you awake after you’ve been lazing about in bed for a few weeks, haha,” he joked with his typical sense of humor before his face got grim and he took on a more solemn tone, “But... in all seriousness… It’s good to see you’re okay. We lost some good ones in that attack. Sunk the bastards that did it though.” You took a moment of silence before breaking the tension. “Don’t worry, fish breath, after a short recovery I will be their worst nightmare. I will sink their entire navy myself.” Reeves hastily hid a worried expression at the thought of you returning to duty, you didn’t know what the expression was for but it was probably just a bit of stress piercing through that rough exterior of his. “Heh, yeah. I’m sure. The little pipsqueak is gonna have them all on the ropes. They’ll piss themselves,” he chuckled heartily, though it sounded just a wee bit forced. After some small talk and him telling you about the casualties and general condition of everything he reluctantly left, after the nurse shooed him away to let you rest. For the next 5 to 6 weeks it seemed like resting was all you could really do and by the time you were ready to be released and begin physical therapy to get back to tip top shape you were really ready to get out of bed. Over the course of your recovery Reeves continued to visit you, really just about everyday that he could, to see how you were progressing and he seemed to be increasingly anxious about you returning to duty. Now that you were out of bed that anxiety seemed too palpable for you to ignore and finally, after he had given you a nervous look when you mentioned your excitement to be seaworthy right as The Sentinel was nearly ready to depart, you decided to just ask him about it. “It may just be me but… it seems like you don’t really want me back on duty…” “What that’s crazy!” he said in a manner that had you wholly unconvinced. You crossed your arms, tilted your head slightly, and stared at him with an expression that said “really?” He sighed deeply before finally admitting outright what he had been thinking since the moment you had been taken to the ship’s med bay. “Look… I know you are a talented sailor but… are you sure you should keep doing this?” You were stunned, mouth agape in shock, but he took your silence as an opportunity to press forward with his line of logic. “I mean… you have a smaller frame than anyone else. The doctors did not know if you would survive at first and the doctors said that even a beta, let alone an alpha, with a larger body would not have been so damaged by the blast or so endangered by the blood loss,” once he started saying all this the words just seemed to spill out of his mouth, like he had been damming them up and it had finally burst allowing him to unleash a torrent of his thoughts on the matter. There was of course much more to it than that, he was in love with you, but even if he had been honest about not wanting you back in combat he could not be completely honest with you or with himself on why exactly he was so adamant. You were speechless a moment more before becoming absolutely indignant. “SEVERAL people passed away in that battle, and all of them were all alphas, war doesn’t spare anyone!” Normally someone speaking to their direct superior in such a manner would be reprimanded but you were beyond caring at this point. “That may be true, but being smaller and more fragile doesn’t help your chances. And you have always been a bit accident prone…” Not an entirely unwarranted criticism, you did tend to be a bit accident prone, though all of those were minor injuries, nothing serious until now, but having enemy ammunition go off near you was hardly your fault and anyone, regardless of body or constitution, would have been injured by such a situation. Incredulous at his comments you stormed off, he called out behind you but you kept going on. That night you didn’t get much rest and you were irritable the next morning. But that did not compare you to the anger you had when you reported in the next morning and had Reeves tell you that he did not want you working with him anymore, he wanted you off the ship working in a safer non-combat capacity. You just stormed off once again to get reassigned to another combat ship. It didn’t have to be glamorous, it could be a fucking submarine for all you cared. It hurt, and it hurt bad, that you would not be with your former crew, or with the leader you had grown to consider a friend, but in battle was where you were meant to be. You put in for reassignment and vacillated between anger, grief, and feelings of betrayal for the remainder of the day. As at the end of everyday you made your way to the omega barracks. You were the only one using them currently, unlike on the ships there were fresh recruits trained on site so separate sleeping arrangements were made. It was hard but eventually you managed to push your raging emotions aside and go to sleep. Reeves had heard about your reassignment, he figured you might be difficult. Instead of asking for a non-combative position you had of course just let them reassign you to another dreadnought. He couldn’t just tank your career to get you out of the front lines, you had too impeccable of a record for anyone to believe that and too many sailors that would vouch for you, no, he would have to instead use his ties to have you erased completely. The shark was a very high ranking admiral with ties to the intelligence agencies and it was within his power to do such a thing, considering you had no civilian friends or family to poke around, and anyone in the navy who might poke around could easily be brushed off or told that you had passed away in the line of duty. So in the dead of night you were disappeared. Operatives quickly snuck in and made their way to your sleeping form, quickly injecting you with a serum that would keep you completely unconscious for many hours and then shoving you into a black sack. You woke up from probably what could be described as the deepest and most fulfilling sleep you had ever known, and then you looked around and realized that you were most certainly not where you had gone to sleep. Gone were the rows of bunk beds that had filled the small omega barracks room, replaced by a small room without any windows, blank walls, and harsh lights. It all seemed very… antiseptic. Too clean. Too empty. You went to the door, which had a small barred hole window, and tried to open it, but it was completely sealed with no way to open it without the key. But you were stubborn and shouted a few curses while trying to force it open anyway. This proved to be a mistake, as it summoned your captor. Reeves. “Admiral!? What the fuck!?! Where are we? Why am I being detained?” He looked at you and with a regretful sigh said, “You just… wouldn’t listen to reason. And I couldn’t lose you.” “My god… You’re absolutely insane! You can’t just cage me up like I am some sort of animal just because I don’t want to live my life how you want me to!” “I AM NOT INSANE!! You refused to see reason! I love you and couldn’t have you in danger anymore and you just wanted to charge in and get hurt. Your injury was a sign that it needed to stop. YOU NEED TO BE SAFE!” You flinched back, unaccustomed to him being so loud and angry. At seeing you recoil his face softened and his tone became much more quiet. “Look, you’ll get used to it here okay? I know the room is a bit bare but we can put whatever you want in here, okay? The war will be over soon and I will be able to be home and then you can move in with me.” You looked down, angry and depressed and betrayed, unable to meet his gaze. Finally he sighed heavily and mumbled that he would have someone bring you some food but he had to go. That’s largely how life went for you there for roughly a year. Facility staff would take care of your day to day needs and every few months, or sometimes weeks, you would get a visit from Reeves. Each time he would offer you some gift or trinket, repeating his confessions of love and care for you. He gave you sweets, blankets, plushies, flowers, and various other things. The blankets and plushies were scented by him, in typical courting fashion, but no matter what the item was you shoved it in the farthest corner of the room. Except the sweets, they would have expired, so instead you would immediately throw them at him. Reeves was more than distraught, not only were his attempts to advance a relationship with you not succeeding, but the friendship you had before was totally eroded. Till, the most important thing above all else was that you remained safe, and once the war ended, which would be any day now, he would be able to move you to his house and take care of you daily himself. When the war was finally over and the time had come for you to be transported to your new happy home with your captor and the destroyer of your life you fought the personnel that were trying to put you in the transport van that had been loaded with all of your things tooth and claw. Literally. You clawed and bit everyone who got near you, you would rather live in a boring glorified cage for the rest of your life than be in a house with Reeves. Finally they had you held down by multiple men and once again injected with a sedative. And, just like a somewhat uncertain amount of months previously, you woke up in a strange room. This time on a couch though. A blanket had been lovingly put on top of you and a soft pillow placed behind your head. This was obviously Reeves’ house. Unlike last time you had been informed of your destination before being abducted. It appeared you were in a modified basement, you looked around, searching for anything that may be useful as a weapon. Sadly, it seemed the room had been left clear of anything you could use to fight Reeves with. There were tiny windows, but they were not only really high up but also really small. Even if you could somehow manage to eat them you would never manage to squeeze through them. There was really only one course of action left for you. You took the blanket that had been left down here for you and waited at the door for Reeves to come down and check on you. When he finally opened it you hid behind it until he took a few steps down. You then threw the blanket over his head and kicked his legs as hard as you could making him stumble, you took the opening to push him down the steps and flee out of the basement. You came up into a hallway that connected to the living room and rushed out the door. You were more than a bit shaky, you had no shoes, and your body was weak but pushed on by a potent mix of sheer force of will and a strong dose of adrenaline allowed you to propel yourself forward. You ran down the driveway and came to a fence that was entirely locked up. No problem. You could scale this with ease, flee into the woods that seemed to surround this area, and eventually find help on the other side. But the second you touched the fence and electric current ran through your body, causing you to twitch and fall down stunned. It was electrified. Because of course it was. For someone he was worried about dying in battle he sure as shit did not seem to underestimate you when it came to you trying to escape. It didn’t take long for him to come running, you had hoped you may have been lucky enough to at least have broken a leg or ankle as he fell, but it seems he was unperturbed by his recent push. You were too shaky at this point to do anything other than let him pick you up and hold you close. “It’s okay, I know you’re scared, I forgive you for pushing me. And sorry about the fence, can’t take any chances.” He carried you back down to the basement and sat you down gently on the couch, laying the blanket that you had formerly used as a weapon on top of you before kissing your forehead, which made you flinch away in disgust. “Now that we are living together I will be able to give you the non-stop attention you deserve. I am sure you will love it here eventually, okay?” “Not okay you absolute fucking idiot, there is no way in the world I will ever love you or even remotely tolerate your presence! Just let me go! The war is already over anyway.” “There is always another war eventually and I must keep you safe from yourself. I just can't risk losing you, can’t you understand that?” You just scoffed in response and pulled the cover over your face so you didn’t have to look at him. Reeves tried rubbing your arm comfortingly through the blanket, and you could do nothing to stop given how shaken up you still were, but he could smell in your scent that you were growing increasingly angry and even a bit anxious at his touch so he finally retreated upstairs to make you a nice dinner. He remembered from years of service with you that you got pretty cranky when you were hungry. When he came back he brought with him a bowl of delicious smelling crab bisque, something he thought was fairly light and easily digestible, but not too light and still full of nutrients. He sat the bowls down on the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of the couch from you. “Sorry about the furniture accommodations. I will move a table and bed down here for you eventually. At some point you will share my bed but I felt like an adjustment period might be good for you first.” “Yeah, so I don’t murder you in your sleep,” you said dryly and without any hint of it being a joke. “Y-you don’t mean that, you’re just a bit cranky because you need some foo-” **CRASH** He was interrupted by you using your hand to smack the bowl of bisque right the fuck off the table and into the hard concrete wall, not unlike a cat that had taken offense to a cup on a table. “It’s… okay… I made more than enough. I know this has been hard on you.” All you did was blankly stare at him as he went and procured another bowl. It smelled great and you were well and truly hungry, but you refused to give in. If you made sure not to eat too much your body would not trigger a heat because it would take too much energy. You also just wanted to piss him off, maybe get him so pissed off that he either lets you go or at least makes some mistakes that you can exploit. When he handed you the second bowl he had gotten for you it immediately met the same fate as its predecessor. He stared at you for a long moment that seemed to span an eternity before he angrily grabbed his bowl of food and pulled you close to him by his arm. He pinched your nose closed so you had to open your mouth and then he shoved a spoonful of food into your mouth, then he held his hand over your mouth so you had to swallow. Reeves continued this a couple times until you got the memo and ate the rest of the bowl willingly. Well… you had wanted him to be pissed. Over the course of weeks you had to accept that you just had to eat what you were given, but by no means did you just give up on making life inconvenient for him. Every gift tossed, any furniture he brought down here destroyed, blankets shredded, anytime he scented something it would be immediately quarantined to the closet after its destruction. The only thing you kept was clothing you deemed acceptable and without his smell on it, you needed clothes but would not accept any with his pheromones. That could be misconstrued as you accepting courtship. You were perfectly content with denying him any ounce of love, affection, or friendship and you were right in the middle of giving a nice silent treatment when finally the proper nutrition and your omega nature convened to ruin everything. You were in heat. Heats were very strong on a normal day, but this was not a normal heat, this was the first heat in a very long time. You had prevented them for a long time in the black site and when you were in the navy of course you took prescribed suppressants. You hadn’t had one in years. Tremors shook your body, you couldn’t stand and your body temperature was heightened. They didn’t call it a heat for nothing. Your brain was addled, you were dizzy and almost delirious, you could barely remember why you were here. You tossed off the covers and stripped down to your slick soaked underwear. Reeves was awoken by an amazing scent and knew immediately what it was, your pheromones beckoning him even from his bedroom, his darling needed him desperately. The smell demanded he come immediately to you and comfort you and take care of you in every way imaginable. Reeves saw you there before him, writhing in carnal need and so small and helpless in front of him. The couch wouldn’t do, he needed a bigger and more familiar space, he took you up to his room where he had actually made and maintained a nest made of things that smelled of the both of you. Despite a vague notion in the back of your mind telling you to avoid him, scratch him, and leave this situation, your instincts and the powerful consequences of having denied yourself your natural cycle DEMANDED that you bury your nose into the scent gland of his neck. So strong, such a strong mate. Reeves was elated, his brain was very much fogged too with lust and instinct but he didn’t have it as badly as you did. He was very much aware that his darling mate was finally accepting and even actively seeking out comfort from him. The shark man peeled off your slick saturated underwear, sniffing at your hole, breathing in the heavenly aroma you made, before your cries of desperation and something inside of him told him to slide his tongue right inside. Finally you began to feel the smallest amount of relief. It wasn’t enough, you needed a knot. A nice big knot from a nice big alpha, and this one smelled strong. You grinded yourself into his probing tongue, whimpering for much more. After several minutes of this he decided that was enough of getting your flavor and he was now ready to properly breed and mark his sweet little brat. He took off his clothes, revealing his large well muscled pecs, lightly scarred from years of combat, and his large cock. The musk coming from it made you drool. He wasted no time ramming into you, as caught up in the moment as he was he had little concern for going slow or for any possible discomfort. Fortunately there was none, you were perfectly primed for his large prick. It slid in you perfectly hitting all the right spots inside of you, causing you to squeal with delight when he bottomed out, deep within you. He moaned himself when he felt your heat and how every movement you made, every shudder, squirm, and all that writhing, he could feel on his cock. He started slow at first, but that was not what either of you wanted and soon it turned into a messy slamming of you, making hot wet sounds as he battered your innards with his cock pistoning in and out. It did not take long at all for his knot to start to swell within you and then reach its full size, sealing the two of you together whether or not you would want it when post heat clarity hit you. You clung to him tightly as he bred you, nails clawing at the skin of his back, as if trying to pull him deeper inside you. He nuzzled into your neck, his nose swimming in your scent as he breathed it in, this is what he had wanted for so long and now he knew he would never regret his actions, everything had been worth it. Reeves licked your neck and bit down on your scent gland, sharp teeth buried into your neck, you whimpered at the sensation and he licked your neck comfortingly, holding you close as you both shared a powerful orgasm. You both panted from the intensity, the heat that was burning up your will power and clarity fading a bit, but not enough to be yourself again. Reeves knew on some level that when things went back to normal you would still resist him, and your convictions would not be so altered in subsequent heats now that you had one after so long, but this was a good start to everything finally falling into place. Your heat would last days and there would be a lot of breeding and a lot of bonding. His instinct to protect you would only get stronger and you would be a bit more susceptible to his pheromones and would naturally seek him out for comfort when in distress. He may have been part fish, but it was you who were caught in his net.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

seven degrees east - final chapter

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairings: multiple Rating: E Chapter: 8 / 8 Word Count: 5219 Total Word Count: 35,724

read on tumblr: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

Robert Rosenthal married Phillis Heller on a scorching Tuesday. It was late afternoon, and nothing broke up the pulsing blue of the sky but a few white streaks that were more like a feathery suggestion of clouds than the real thing. Rosie wore shorts and a polo shirt—the collar of which had been fixed by Nash before the City Hall ceremony. Liss’s white halter top (borrowed from Sandra’s closet) was a last-minute bridal touch.

Standing before the Justice of the Peace, Rosie could feel himself grinning like a maniac and worried they’d be tossed out, assumed to be doing this as a joke. They were too happy, he was sure. Nobody was ever this happy. They wouldn’t be believed. Liss was grinning back at him, squeezing his hands. While the bride- and groom-to-be had waited to go in, the boys had scoured the nearby shops and come up with a pair of rings from an antique store. Now, Rosie was sliding one onto Liss’s finger. Curt whooped and Gale sent an elbow into his ribs to silence him.

The boys had also come back with a discoloured drinking glass. They’d forgotten something to wrap it in, but John had fished a forgotten beach towel from the back of the Wrangler, and it was in this that they swaddled the glass for Rosie to stomp outside City Hall. Now they all cheered, and people passing by turned and stared.

Crosby took photos throughout. He’d become, somehow, the group’s documentarian, even if it didn’t feel very official to be using a Polaroid camera to capture the wedding of one of his best friends. John claimed to have won the camera from Kidd in a darts match at the Barracks. As John’s dart game had never seemed to improve no matter how many times he played, Crosby doubted this and assumed he’d stolen it from Kidd instead. In all likelihood, Kidd was aware and couldn’t find it in himself to give enough of a shit to take it back. If the mood struck him, he would probably get revenge for the theft in a different way, maybe misspelling John’s name the next time he got a piece in the journal.

Snapping and flapping the printed photos, Crosby thought of his own potential contribution to the journal’s summer edition. Bubbles had mentioned ages ago that there were a few spaces left. There almost certainly still were, since most of the student body was gone and there was no one left to ask who hadn’t been asked already.

As it happened, Crosby had begun writing something. It was a way of coping with the looming deadline of their final essay. The process of writing something else helped him both put off and grapple with the class assignment, tricking his brain into believing itself productive by writing rapidly, copiously, wildly… just about the wrong thing.

While Crosby took the photos, Helen organized them. Quite a few of Rosie and Liss alone on the steps of City Hall. The couple with Helen and Nash, who’d stood up as their friends’ maid of honour and best man. Rosie with the boys (Helen took that one). Liss with her friends. Unfortunately, this did not include Sandra, who Crosby had learned was currently in France. “Bummer,” he’d said after Liss had told him—after he’d inquired, trying hopelessly not to be weird about it.

They decamped to a restaurant with a patio after. Liss had called and left messages on the answering machines of other friends she hadn’t been able to reach on such short notice, and some of these had since picked up the message, joining them for a boisterous dinner, their rowdy laughter filling the perfect evening. The Thorpe Abbotts boys began to tap one another on the shoulder when a few familiar faces appeared.

“Isn’t that…?”

“I think it’s…”

“Remember when we…?”

It was Curt who moseyed to the table at which the newcomers had seated themselves. He nudged one of their plates out of the way and perched on the table’s edge.

“Well, well, fuckin’ well,” he said, crossing his arms and staring down at the trio. “You fuckers always travel in a pack?”

The man to whom Curt had so thoughtfully addressed this question glanced from Curt to the rest of the boys (Gale flicked a hand up in an ironic wave), then back. His eyes had widened, but it only took him a moment to control his features and adopt a haughty expression.

“Look who’s bloody talking,” the Brit shot back.

Because it had been more than a month since the fight, and because a month on summer time actually counted for much longer, and especially because it was Rosie’s wedding day, Curt greeted this remark with a benevolent grin. As the last sight of Curt the Brit had enjoyed had been Curt’s fist coming fast at his head, his smile now understandably evoked a quick, alarmed intake of breath.

“Easy, guy,” Curt coached. “You keep your shirt on, I’ll let you keep those teeth in your head.”

“How generous,” was the stiff reply.

“You want generous? Fine.” Curt knocked the back of his hand playfully against the Brit’s shoulder. “I’ll buy ya a drink.”

A few tables over, Crosby leaned in to whisper to Gale and John.

“Uh, what the hell’s Curt doing?”

“Can’t make it out,” Gale said, though he was smiling loosely. “Lulling them into a false sense of security would be my guess, but I hope I’m wrong. I don’t want to have to embarrass these assholes by mopping the floor with them again.”

“Good news,” John announced. “You are wrong.” He turned to Crosby. “C’mon, Croz. You’re Casanova enough to know flirting when you see it.”

Crosby didn’t know which part to protest first.

“You think Curt’s flirting with the guy he beat the hell out of?”

Gale shrugged, hands spread.

“Stranger things,” he said, prepared to accept John’s theory.

“It’s no surprise Buck here called it wrong,” John said without provocation.

His best friend frowned at him.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you wouldn’t know a sexual advance if it stared you in the eyes while it shot its load.”

“Jesus, John.”

“Some of us are eating,” Bubbles mumbled around a slice of pizza.

Gale had flushed at John’s words, and his blush only deepened as John continued to hold his gaze. John lifted his own slice to his lips and took a large bite, smirking as he chewed. He wasn’t getting desperate, he wouldn’t say, just assertive. He needed Gale to be the one to make the move that would change it all. If he wasn’t, John was afraid Gale would convince himself that whatever happened after was never really what he’d wanted. It would be like Marge: an idea so good at the time that it might’ve been too good, and therefore doomed to brevity. Too perfect and it wouldn’t last with Gale. It never did. John had been around long enough to know that about his friend. He was suspicious of perfection, and of any choice he felt had been made for him.

But John was not above a little goading. He would splash Gale with the waters Gale was as yet too afraid to test.

At some point, they had ordered more beers than pizzas, and at some point, comfortably tipsy, somebody suggested speeches. The blue of the afternoon had deepened into the denim shades of evening, and the restaurant had turned on its patio lights. The future Dr. Rosenthal sat beneath the glow with his arm around the future Mrs. Rosenthal, Esq., her head on his shoulder. They looked like they’d been together longer. Everyone thought so—and they said so, moments of tenderness escaping between inside jokes and embarrassing stories as they gave their speeches. It was simple: these two people were beloved.

Later, the mood shifted, and man and missus betrayed signs of wanting to get away. But they couldn’t just leave; Rosie had a dormmate and Liss shared a house. There were logistics to consider. What they worked out in the end for the couple’s impromptu honeymoon was that they would stay at the house in Cringleford. With Sandra already in France, there was only Helen to relocate, and she was transparently eager to stay with Nash while Rosie vacated the dorm. Helen would get some clothes and things tonight to avoid intruding on the newlyweds. Rosie could not have appeared less interested in going anywhere Liss wasn’t. He would borrow a toothbrush. He would go without trimming his mustache. And why the hell would he need a change of clothes? He didn’t even plan on using the ones he was wearing after they got through the front door.

“Which is why I really need to get back to the house first,” Helen emphasized.

To which John cavalierly replied, “Ah, Helen, you don’t really know Rosie until you’ve seen him in his underwear.”

“We speak from experience,” Gale was quick to stress, before Helen could ask.

“And your boyfriend’s no better.” John leveled an accusatory finger at Nash who shrugged, shameless.

People began to discuss paying the bill, meeting again, sharing a ride to whatever place they called home at the moment. They were mostly students, so home was a rental of some sort, maybe with roommates, maybe with a pet whose head would lift sleepily from the floor when its owner walked in.

As purse straps were slung onto shoulders and back pockets patted to check for wallets and keys, Gale stood from his seat and felt months of his life rush to catch up with him. The sensation was so bittersweet that the breath caught in his throat. This was the best there was, and it was so fleeting. He saw how it would be preserved in his memory: friends hugging, the glint of light off earrings and eyeglass frames, Rosie and Liss in the background with their heads tilted together, speaking softly below the goodbyes.

And Gale saw John.

He saw John reach gracelessly above his head to crack his back. He saw him squeeze Crosby’s shoulder, catch Curt’s elbow to whisper something in his ear that made Curt smile slyly before slipping away with their erstwhile enemy, the Brit from the bar. He saw John turn around, looking for someone, and realized John was looking for him. His eyes glittered when they landed on Gale’s face, his smile full of the satisfaction of locating him, and Gale experienced perhaps his most purely happy thought since childhood: We’re going home.

He was ten years old again, following the train tracks by the light of the moon, turning into the driveway of the house with the warm light coming from the kitchen.

“I have some things to say to you,” he told John.

And John sighed like he was savouring the air, and said, “Finally.”

—

They didn’t turn on the light. The moon offered some through the blinds at the far end of the room though, enough that Gale could hit the kitchen counter when he tossed the keys. He could hear the soft sound of John’s breathing behind him. Slowly, Gale turned and placed a hand on John’s hip. John bowed his head in offering. Gale found his mouth.

John was just a weight in the kiss at first, a pressure to show he was there. It was up to Gale to nudge and suck, to gently bite, to run his lips down over John’s chin, then back up to kiss the underside of his nose. All the time, the heat came off John, and Gale felt the prickle of sweat between his own shoulder blades.

But John was too still; it was making Gale anxious. Impulsively, he sank to his knees and brought his hands to John’s belt. He’d probably waited too long, been too cautious. Who the hell let weeks go by after watching their… their John Egan (because there was no single word in the English language that could say all he meant) come? He would make John see that he did want him.

Gale didn’t so much as get his belt unbuckled before John’s hands were gripping his, pulling them away.

“You want it?” John asked. And his face was half in shadow, but Gale could hear that John didn’t mean the question to be crude, wasn’t demanding Gale beg for his cock. You want this, he meant. You want now, you want me?

“I want all of it,” Gale muttered, and John helped him to his feet.

“Then take me to bed like you mean it.”

Gale slipped his fingers through John’s, then savoured the feeling of how they fit together, stroking his fingers back and forth between John’s.

John said, “That tickles.”

Gale smiled in the darkness. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Did Hemingway love to fish?”

Gale made a noise of exasperation and said, “Come on.”

By the hand, he brought John to his room. John had been inside most days since they’d moved into the dorm together—that much wasn’t new. He had even lain on the bed, so when Gale backed him towards it, John instinctively picked his usual side and sat. Standing before him, Gale pulled the t-shirt over his head, but then John stopped him.

“Hang on,” he said, and went to raise the blinds. Again: the moon, heavy and cool. John resumed his seat. “I just…” He rubbed his cheek in what looked like sudden and unexpected shyness. “I wanna see everything.”

“I bet you do,” Gale replied, slightly saucy to cover his creeping nerves.

“You just look… I think you look…” Shy and at a loss for words.

Rather than stand there self-consciously or leave John to fumble forward alone, Gale sat next to him on the bed.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said.

This had the desired effect of making John laugh. Gale kept talking calmly.

“Friends fall in love all the time. We’re not special.” Gale nudged John with his elbow. “John Egan, we are so fucking unspecial. You know how many people in this country, on this planet are getting laid tonight? You and me, we’re just blendin’ in.”

He knew he was rambling, but slowly, the words like the hypnotic roll of surf against the shore of John’s consciousness, he hoped. The more he said, the less nonchalant Gale was sure he sounded. But why should he be? He kept forcing himself forward. He would sit there on that hard mattress and take it—take whatever he could put himself through, whatever was telling him to stop now and risk no more. He had stopped himself enough, held himself back enough. There was nothing more for him on that safe road, in clear skies. He would abandon the cerebral for the bloody and immediate. He would play with John. He would act—pretend and perform and take charge. All of it. And he would confess. And everything would be real.

“We’re under the radar, John,” Gale said. “It changed my life just to kiss you out there in that kitchen we never clean right. So what? A little perspective.”

“Have a little perspective?” John checked, the laugh still there in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“After you say you love me?” John leaned back on his hands.

“That’s not unusual,” Gale pointed out. His hands were shaking. “You love me too.”

“No big deal?”

“No big deal.”

John sighed loudly and reached for Gale’s hand, laying it on his chest. Gale could feel John’s heartbeat, not as rapid as he imagined it had been a minute ago.

“How long should we pretend?” John asked.

“I’m done if you are.”

When John’s hand tightened around his wrist, Gale pushed him down onto his back and crawled over him.

There was supposed to be dancing at weddings, Gale knew, and it felt like dancing, the way he and John navigated one another in that narrow dorm-room bed. Kissing, getting naked, getting lube from John’s room, getting John to quit moaning like that so Gale wouldn’t end the first time he’d ever done this far too soon as he eased inside him. Once he was buried though, he didn’t mind John’s moan. The snug fit around Gale’s cock was so good he had to fight to get his blurred vision to refocus on John’s face. And that was before they really started to move.

Partway through, slick with sweat from effort and humidity and the heat of each other’s body, Gale slowed his thrusts. John’s cock throbbed needily against his stomach. But Gale slowed further, stopped entirely. His face was so close to John’s. He felt the flex of John’s thighs around his hips and dug his blunt fingernails into firm muscle.

“How long ago did you start thinking this would happen?” Gale mumbled.

“I never thought it.”

“You knew it?” Gale searched his eyes.

“No. I wanted it, which meant it probably wouldn’t happen.” John’s laugh was pained.

“Tell me what you wanted,” Gale requested. He stared down at John, so comfortable on his pillow. The blue shades of moon-bright night folded around his features. He just looked… Gale thought he looked… He understood what John had meant, watching him undress. There was immense beauty in a man who was so vulnerable and brave. “Since I’m the moron who took this long.”

“I just wanted us,” John said simply. “I wanted you to see that, if anybody could make each other happy in this stupid world, in these stupid fucking novels we read… it’d be me...” He tapped his own chest with his finger. “…and it’d be you.” He tapped Gale’s.

John’s hand flattened over Gale’s heart and lingered there.

“How long did you want it then?” Gale asked, pushing his hips forward to distract from how choked up he was by John’s assertion. John gasped and grabbed hold of his ass.

“Every day before this one,” John professed. “All the way to the end.”

“The end of what?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when we get there. Kiss me for now.”

“I can do that,” Gale said, and, cradling John’s cheek, he did.

—

Hey, Croz. You know

Crosby, buddy, I think

Harry, before you go

Bubbles had woken before dawn, when the sky had been bruised, when he’d blinked against the bathroom light and squinted at the dark circles under his eyeballs.

For all Crosby’s hard-boiled paperbacks, all his little pulp novels, he also owned a sturdy, hardback Arthur Conan Doyle collection—a sucker for one of the Brits after all. This book Bubbles had taken from the desk in their common area. He’d stuffed a bunch of blank sheets between its pages, tucked a pencil behind his ear, and left the dorms.

He had scuffed across the sidewalk, then swished through the grass, dampening the hem of his pajama pants with dew. The sky had started to lighten by then. Bubbles had held his head up as he’d walked and thought of the airfield. He’d looked at the twinkling stars giving way to the day. High up, black had been fading out to blue, but near the horizon, where the sun would appear, the sky had been a smoldering purplish-reddish-brown, like a hot plum. The day would be a scorcher, Bubbles had predicted. Sometimes, you could just tell.

But it had still been cool then, and when Bubbles had gone beneath the tree—the big tree, the one tree—he’d pulled off his sweater to sit on, so he wouldn’t soak his pants through. The sun had cracked the sky open like that big ol’ star was peering through a door into the dark room that was England. There had been just enough light to smooth a sheet of paper across the cover of the book, take the pencil from behind his ear, and begin.

Despite his false starts, Bubbles was a patient man. He let himself get all those wrong beginnings out of the way and waited for the right one to come.

It—whatever this letter would contain when he got it right—had been burning low inside him ever since Crosby had mentioned that he hadn’t slept with Sandra the night of the Cringleford party. He’d shared this offhandedly after Rosie and Liss’s wedding, when Bubbles had cautiously asked whether he was ok with not seeing Sandra that day—with not seeing her, actually, since the party. (Roommates, they knew each other’s movements well.) Crosby was ok, he’d assured Bubbles. It had only been a crush, if an intense one. At least nothing had happened. He could go back to Jean for the remainder of the summer with a clear conscience. Bubbles had felt slightly stunned. It wasn’t that he expected the worst of his best friend, but he’d felt, lately, that he was losing him somehow. Or that Crosby was flitting around and he, Bubbles, was standing still.

The news was good. It was good for Jean, and for Crosby. It was good for Bubbles, insofar as it meant he didn’t need to worry so much, he supposed. A passing physical attraction was actually very understandable.

Bubbles couldn’t help wondering though, had it been more than that, would Crosby have strayed? Would he have tried? Would he have tested the capacity of his heart and head to fall in love with somebody else? With every attempt he made to write the letter, Bubbles asked himself these questions. He wanted to know if there was space in that heart of Crosby’s, or if the most there would ever be was the idea of a single room, let for the night.

The sun rose red like a wailing throat and Bubbles carried his letter back to the dorm. He saw that Crosby wasn’t up yet, and heard no sounds of waking coming from his room. Bubbles got dressed, then reemerged from his bedroom and walked around their space as though for the first time.

Harding’s class was over. They were done until September. Bubbles wouldn’t fly out for another two days—he would be helping the eternally put-upon Kidd get a few things in order—but Crosby’s flight left that afternoon. They’d see each other. They would call. Before either of them knew it, they’d be back at Thorpe Abbotts and the trees would turn and Bucky would spread his arms to greet friends and buildings both and quote that line from The Great Gatsby about life starting over in the fall.

Bubbles thought about slipping the letter into the suitcase Crosby had hauled out the night before. It stood just inside their door, next to the single pair of shoes they’d each left themselves, packing the dress shoes they kept for presentation days and the boots they kept for the winter mornings when classes weren’t cancelled but the grounds were knee-deep in the white stuff. Bubbles unzipped the side and dropped the letter in.

He went out of the dorm, heart in his throat, and got as far as the door to the stairwell before going back. He retrieved the letter. The dorm was still silent. He went out again.

He was sitting in a coffee shop at the hour he knew Crosby was heading to the airport. The letter was folded in two in his pocket. Bubbles sighed over a cappuccino and made himself quit looking at his watch. He picked up the book he’d set down on the table and kept reading.

—

November

Although it wasn’t quite snow cover, the frost was crisp, and Crosby nearly slipped on the way to the student centre. He’d worn the wrong shoes. Jean had said as much. The transition from fall to winter was harsher over here; just one year away and he’d forgotten stuff like that.

He spotted a pair of familiar silhouettes walking up ahead. With a shout, Crosby hailed them, and Macon and Alex turned at the sound of his voice.

“Are you alright, Croz?” Alex asked.

Hands buried in his pockets, Crosby gave him a shivering shrug.

“It’s this bullshit Connecticut weather,” Macon noted in commiseration. “S’posed to be autumn.”

Alex chuckled.

“Alabama boy.”

“As if your Michigan ass could survive a ’Bama summer.”

Crosby listened to them go back and forth until they reached the centre. Inside the doors, they stamped and wiped their boots on the wide black mat. They were early; later, this mat would be sodden. They were expecting a big audience for today’s Veterans Day events—back-to-back presentations from morning into the afternoon.

He was grateful for Macon and Alex, for how quickly they had all become friends. Of course, the other two had had a head start, beginning their PhDs on this main Connecticut campus while Crosby’d opted to go abroad. But they had welcomed him back like a disoriented soldier returning to the home front after a cessation of hostilities. They had seemed to understand that he needed time to readjust, to take back up this new-old life, before he’d revealed much of anything besides the mid-semester transfer that was already obvious by his appearance in their seminar, “Special Topics in African American Literature: Toni Morrison”—as sudden and unexpected as Beloved’s from the river. That had been barely a month ago.

He had returned to school stateside in October, once Jean had been sure. Every day he’d been back, Crosby had worked not to feel like a coward for the way he’d clung to Norfolk, indirectly hoping the pregnancy scare would go a different way. He had finally felt at home there. Leaving, he’d known, meant missing an English autumn. Rain on grey stone. Brown leaves on that one solid oak. The smell of smoke coming from the Dean’s chimney—part of Thorpe Abbotts’ borrowing of English aesthetic and tradition. The thought of missing any of it had made Crosby want to grind his skin into those stones, so that some of him might stay.

But the baby had been conceived in August while Crosby’d been home for the summer, and it was a real baby, not some selfish fantasy of a faraway life. So he had packed, and though it had felt like breaking his own fingers to do it, he had let go.

He entertained, at first, some idea of going back. Gradually, he had come to accept this was impossible. He would keep his place at the university when the baby was born; he only had a few classes left to take, and he’d earned a scholarship that had been transferred back here when he had, and he made some money on TA pay, besides. There would be time, this way, to be home with Jean and the baby. By the time the three of them were able to make some kind of sense of their life, he would have propelled himself through his dissertation with blind determination and a good amount of fear, and it would be done. There would be no reason to walk those other halls again. There would be no old friends to rejoin in the place where they’d tried to learn something together—of books and, more than that, of each other, of themselves.

Crosby found a quiet place to pace and read over the pages he’d stuck in his presentation folder. Alex and Macon were presenting together, speaking about the Tuskegee Airmen in WWII. He wished he weren’t doing this alone, but at least they were all on the same panel, sitting in the same room. His focus was also WWII. He would be giving a personal account blended with history, offering the audience a portrait of an airfield, then and now.

He never had written that piece for the journal. In consequence, Kidd probably had his school photo pinned up somewhere, tossing darts at it. He’d written a lot before leaving England, but back in the States, Crosby had gotten wrapped up in family and Jean and all the little pursuits that swallowed the end of summer like a rapidly-melting popsicle. This paper, though it had grown into something else, finally felt like coming back around to what he’d meant to do months ago.

When it was almost time, one of the undergrad gophers for the event waved him into the room. Crosby had left his coat on an empty chair in the back row; he straightened his shirt collar, grateful for Jean’s steady hands, which had knotted his tie. He went up on the stage with the other student speakers. There were opening remarks. He was introduced and went to the podium on quivering legs, but he breathed deeply and smoothed his pages out in front of him, collecting himself before he glanced up at the modest assembly.

“I wanna say first,” Crosby began, off book, “that this paper was inspired by a very large, very important tree, and by my friend Bubbles, who used to sit under it with me. He was always thinking about how our school sat on the grounds of an old airfield. He thought about it a lot more than I did. I actually tried to call him today…”

Realizing how far he’d wandered, Crosby cleared his throat and held up a hand in apology. He began the speech he had prepared.

He had tried Bubbles before going out. He’d called the old landline number for their dorm. When Bubbles hadn’t picked up, he’d tried the other guys, finally getting Nash. Crosby had sniffed and touched the bottom of his nose when he heard in Nash’s voice that he was eager to be someplace. But Nash was kind, and he wouldn’t let Crosby off the line without saying whatever he’d called Bubbles to say.

“I’m giving my presentation today,” Crosby had said. In case Nash didn’t remember (and if he didn’t, Crosby didn’t blame him), Crosby had explained it as succinctly as he could: about the airfield, the pilots, and the crews, and later the school, and students. Peace. History. These places that had formed the lives of young men and women.

“You’re telling our story,” Nash had said.

And Crosby had quickly replied, “Yes,” not knowing whether “our” was meant to be Thorpe Abbotts or just seven students in particular.

“Like Little Women.”

Crosby had laughed.

“Come on, Croz,” Nash had said, from way down the line. “You know we’re just like that.”

“Like what?”

“A family.”

Crosby would make it clear later, when what he said in his presentation evolved again, into what he published. Bubbles would be first in his dedication—his best friend—encouraged in his pursuit of a certain ex-royal whose divorce had been finalized that August. The others’ names would be there too. Next might be Curt, who’d joined an exchange program that took him farther into Europe, ever the Kerouacian wanderer. Then Rosie who, enviably to Crosby, always seemed to know what he wanted. Nash would come right after, not quite as certain as Rosie, but just as determined once he’d decided on something. John and Gale… Crosby would have to keep them together, the way they kept themselves: Bucky and Buck.

And they would all stay together that way, there on his dedication page. To the Bloody Hundredth, Crosby would write. Then, for Bubbles, And to Princess Diana, wherever she may be tonight!

[sentientcave]

Oh hey it's Wednesday again! You know what that means!

IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE

I've been bouncing around from project to project a lot lately so have a little Fic Flight of a few thangs

You Only Live Twice

Sadie was already creeping down the shadowed path strip of grass between the building and the outer wall, shoes in hand. She felt the Russian’s presence at her back, the intake of breath indicating that he intended to scold her for getting ahead of him. “I imagine they’ll have men at the gate already,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll pretend I think they’re the real security and blather on about what’s going on upstairs, and you pick them off once I have them in the open. I assume you’re a good shot?” “I don’t like that. You could be killed.” Why the man cared all that much if she were killed, she didn’t know. Something to figure out later, once they were out of there. At the moment he was useful, and that was all that mattered. “I doubt it. They would have just blown the place to bits if they wanted everyone dead. They’re looking for high-profile hostages.” He tugged her further into the shadows, his big hand not leaving her waist even once he had her pressed against the wall. “You’re right, but—” “If you’re not a good shot, now would be the time to tell me,” she hissed back. “We don’t have time to stand around and think about it. I can probably only take on one myself, if I have to fight hand to hand.” She looked past him, down to where the lights from the gate station glared out into the darkness. “Are you ready?” He sighed, resigned. “Da. Make it a good performance, umnyashka. I will follow.”

Rugby

Your morning passes in a steady trickle of numbers and signed reports. You get up and stretch halfway through the morning, water your plants, get back to work. The second half of the morning flies by, and Brandon is back in your doorway again before you know it. It was a vain hope to think you would be able to slip out and get lunch without tagging along with him. Or it would have been, if the elevator didn’t open to reveal Simon ‘Perfect Timing’ Riley, holding a brown paper bag of takeout. “Forgot t’pack you a lunch, pretty boy,” he rumbles, stepping out and pulling you to the side. “Figured you could show me your office.” Brandon opens and closes his mouth like a fish, taking in the full expanse of Simon. Simon gives him a sly look out of the corner of his eye, and tugs you a step closer by the tie. “No kiss, love?” he asks playfully. You short circuit, face heating up so much that you’re sure Simon can feel it when he cups your jaw and tips your face up, and fucking kisses you. He’s not shy about it either, his tongue lapping at the seam of your lips, head tilted so your noses don’t squish together. “This is your boyfriend?” Brandon asks, interrupting the absolutely bizarre moment. “Hm?” Simon pulls away and looks at Brandon properly, like he’s just noticed him there. “Who’s your friend, Rip?” “Um. This is Brandon. Brandon, this is Simon. Yeah. My um. Boyfriend.” You look back at Simon. “You didn’t have to bring me lunch.” “Maybe I wanted to. You gonna say no to a curry?” “No. Come on, lets go sit in my office.” You shrug at Brandon. “Rain cheque, eh?” “See you around, Bradley,” Simon adds, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Field Trip

He looks serious for a moment, before the grin flickers back on. “Aw, weel, it wasnae as much fun as I might make it look. I had things ta keep livin’ fer.” “Like volunteering to help out with a school trip?” you ask mildly. “Of course. Few things matter more’n education, ye ken. Want tae make sure Finn doesnae wander off like Ah would’ve at his age.” His knee bumps into yours as he gets comfortable in the seat, and he makes no move to remove it. “Ah didnae have such a bonnie teacher, mind. Might’ve paid a bit more attention in class.” You tilt your knees toward the aisle, humming noncommittally. As far as you’re aware, Mr. Mactavish was SAS— An officer, and no slouch in regards to intelligence. Acting like an over eager puppy probably gets him further than behaving like a serious soldier, but you don’t really buy it. “I’m sure you did just fine in school, Mr. Mactavish.” “Ye can call me Johnny, ye ken. We’re no’ strangers by now, are we Sweetpea?” “Mr. Mactavish—” “Ah, come on bonnie, Ah’m no’ on a last name basis with anyone else here. Even the kids call me Soap.” “Are you ever going to tell us what that means?” Mrs. Kingsley asks, leaning across the aisle with a smile. “Ah cannae, Barb, ye cheeky thing, an’ ye know it. Classified.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks. He takes the opportunity to lean across you, one hand on your thigh and one arm braced against the barrier between your seat and the door. “How’s yer grandkids gettin’ on? No’ in school themselves yet, are they?”

Sparrow

She chanted his name, pressing her lips to his ear. He growled in response, barely missing a stroke as he transferred his weight to one arm, the other grabbing her by the throat, putting just a little pressure there. “Shut it, birdie, you’re gonna make me come.” “Yes, yes please,” she whispered, cunt clamping down on him like a vice. “Want you to. Please, Simon—” “Fuckin’ christ, Morgan,” he grunted. “Never fuckin’ shut up, do you?” She grinned, tipping her chin up to give him better access to her throat. “No. You’ll have to make me.” He groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, giving her a few more grinding thrusts as deeply inside her as he could get, and came hard. Morgan could feel every pulse and twitch as he stuffed her full, the sensation almost enough to send her over the edge too. She whined, wrapping he legs around him tightly so he couldn’t pull out. “S’your own fault, birdie,” Simon grumbled, letting his full weight come down on top of her to keep her from moving her hips any more. “Gimme a minute. I’ll take care of you.” She sighed, stroking a hand through his hair and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “I know you will. We’ll take care of each other.”

[chestersbraincell]

The Roblox pressure fandom has me in a chokehold, so I have succumb to the urge to make an experiment fishe oc except I cannot draw so you’ll have to use your imagination here(while also probably looking up pictures of the species I list😅). The amount of time I have spent looking up aquatic species is outstanding, but here goes!

Fair warning, I consider myself rather cringey at making ocs so, yes, if it is so obviously a cringey self insert I am aware of that

Name: Z-19, codename “Dragonfly”

Nicknames: Shrimp, Firefly, Spark, Nemo

Main story: Used to be really good at swimming as a kid and were talking to their coach about possibly getting their dream of becoming a mermaid/professional swimmer, while also being like a superhero if they came with and so being a stupid kid they agreed. They were kidnapped and experimented on in order to make them optimum for exploring. They made it seem „cool” and tried their past to reduce pain as much as possible, and so by the time they finished their training sometime around the age of like 20 they basically had Stockholm syndrome and moreso gratitude towards Urbanshade than anything. They only begin to open their eyes to how much childhood was taken from them after they meet Sebastian and decide to become a shop assistant and aid in his plan for escape and getting revenge.

DNA donor species:

REDACTED-gives tentacles sharp edges that can be used for self-defense or otherwise harm. Also makes them generally resistant to radioactivity, aiding them when exploring more radioactive sites

Clownfish-mainly influences colour(making what would be otherwise blue parts orange with red hues), allows to be omnivorous despite preference for meat, occasional popping+clicking noises in communication

Humbolt squid-entire body flashes red when threatened or flustered

Firefly squid- glow in the dark specs all over body, used for light navigation

Blue glaucus-main external physical feature structure determinent, ear fins as well as additional fins on both legs and arms resemble these but in orange colour(see “Clownfish”), as well as small, stubby black horns on the forehead. Behaviouristic characteristics include curling into a ball as a protective mechanism as well as a suspected tendency to float carelessly on their back when on the water’s surface, though this cannot be confirmed as this was a habit even before DNA transplant

Sea Anemone-allows for retraction and lengthening of tentacles

Generally: genderfluid because of many donor species being flexible in sex, high preference for meat due to majority carnivorous donor species, can exist in any temperature water(for exploratory purposes), short fluffy ginger hair remains suprisingly intact, skin is largely, but not completely, covered in orange scales, eyes are entirerly black in colour including the sclera, teeth are noticably sharp due to various donors. Note: tentacles come from the back of the subject for ease of movement, they have retained their limbs even if having fins on them. Said tentacles are also black in colour, like the little nub horns

Silly little fun fact section(because I might add random trivia here as I come up with it):

•They don’t exactly remember why they do it(having long forgotten their parents because they were kidnapped at the age of like 5, 6 tops) but because they used to lightly guilt trip their mom into not smoking as a kid they now do so to Sebastian once they get to know each other more and there’s yk, an actual bond and trust(albeit most likely unsuccessfully). Before a bond was built they probably just silently judged him for it and perhaps occasionally held their breath/coughed

•The code name “Dragonfly” comes from the combination of both the firefly squid and the Blue glaucus, which has the more common name Blue Dragon!

•I imagine, since they’re immune to eyefestation’s radioactivity, this would lead to a rather humorous interaction when they’re avoiding looking at the shark but eventually get annoyed with the insistent pleading and just snap back at it and stare it down, much to eyefestation’s suprise(because, yk, they’re not used to people staring them down bc it usually kills them?). Tbh I imagine Eyefestation would he so taken off-guard by this that it would swim away, confused and flabbergasted, the poor puppy shark 😭

•even if they wanted to, they could not ever really befriend the squiddles considering how they automatically produce light from their bioluminescencent spots in darkness

•the Firefly squid wasn’t considered in their initial DNA plan, it had only been included as a „bandaid fix” after Urbanshade realised that they tended to get claustrophobic in dark unlit places, not wanting to spend extra resources on providing them with light equipment

•game-role wise, I’m pretty terrible at fitting characters in-universe well so excuse any cringey mary-sueness. They would play a role very similar to Painter, as in being allied with Sebastian to thwart Expendables in making it to the Crystal, but they would be more deceitful than Painter in their intentions. They would act almost as a guide, occasionally helping, doing stuff like helping Expendables out of a dark room if they stay there long enough. Their biggest role would be in replacing the second appearance of search-lights as the main threat at the end of the game. Twist-villain basically. Not quite sure what their gameplay mechanic would be(obviously they would kill with their tentacles but I’m not sure what you would do to avoid it. All I know is that, like painter, they would have some voice lines when they kill you, probably things like „sorry”, „it had to be done” , „we can’t let it happen”, „*shaky sigh*”, „forgive me”, etc.

•they can both easily feign niceness, maybe even genuinely having a little bit of fun helping out the expendables, and are genuinely silly and affectionate with Sebastian and some other entities(room for expansion, haven’t considered it yet). They, however, HEAVILY dissociate to a mostly robot-sort of carrying out orders state when killing, mostly as a result of their past combat conditioning by Urbanshade

•Originally, their primary objective was to kill Sebastian. Obtaining the crystal was also in their mission but it wasn’t their main goal. But [plot] , [character development] and essentially Sebastian opened up their eyes to how much their childhood was robbed from them, and wanting revenge they, at first reluctantly(because of how much of a prick he can be, be fr) joined forces with sebastian in his mission of blackmailing urbanshade yada yada, only gradually over time forming a genuine connection

•Aside from „helping” Expendables+Their role at the end of the game, they mostly do drop-offs at the beginning of the game, occasionally bring some items with them to sell to Expendables in a pinch(for example, if they get stuck in a Turret room with a keycard, theres a chance for them to show up with a Code-Breaker, that kinda thing. Running low on health? Might bring a med-kit. Basically extending Sebastian’s data-gathering business by taking advantage of situations where expendables might desperately need certain items, under the guise of being helpful. Occasionally, they will also attempt to sell “pretty trinkets” they find around the Blacksite/the nearby perimeter of it; they’re not worth anything and don’t do anything either. But they’re pretty cheap and mostly just a little hobby of theirs. They also, as mentioned before with their role at the end of the day, essentially do Sebastian’s „dirty work”, which includes picking apart the bodies for items to recycle into the shop business etc. This is mostly to utilise their ability to dissociate somewhat well when performing horrific actions in contrast to sebastian who(despite probably not wanting to admit it) wants to preserve his humanity atleast somewhat(I headcanon he can sometimes flip out and rampage on people but is freaked out by the aftermath :<) TLDR: Sebastian’s little henchman/sidekick, whatever u wanna call it

•The Imaginary Friend gets voicelines like „don’t trust them” when around them, so they’re not very fond of the imaginary friend. Besides, they find them pretty freaky and creepy

•they are likely somewhat friendly rivals with Painter, both secretly trying to outdo one another to impress sebastian(hence why they like to offer code breachers in the turret rooms to make Painter’s work pointless >:3)

•when you climb on sebastian and you can see the little area post the railing above the desks, that’s where their little living area would be.

(I’m probably bigging myself up big-time saying this but if anyone feels inclined to draw this silly enby feel free, just pls don’t claim the character idea as your own :< I’d greatly appreciate being tagged or otherwise notified too!)

…I can’t believe I just made a fishsona

[bisamwilson]

Hi! Sambucky + #6, pretty please?

thanks for the ask <3 #6: things you said under the stars and in the grass (from this list)

There's a firefly within reaching distance, so it shouldn't be any surprise to Bucky that Sam automatically reaches up towards it.

He doesn't catch it like Bucky expects him to, like Bucky'd seen him do with Cass and AJ on warm summer nights down in Delacroix, but just lets his hands hover a few inches away until it blinks off outward into the night. Sam's arms fall back down to his stomach.

"You know how a lot of people get seasick when they're lying out on a boat?" Sam asks, a tinge of melancholy in his voice that doesn't match the lazy haze of the night. He doesn't look over to see if Bucky nods, but he does anyway. "Sometimes I think I've got the opposite of that. Watching the stars from solid ground feels wrong in a way I can't really explain."

They'd been in upstate New York for entirely too long, training some of the new kids at the compound to teach them how to work as a team, along with Sam training Joaquín on some of the more advanced techniques with the wings. Bucky's even starting to feel a little homesick for Delacroix, for the allure of Sarah's living room couch, so he can't imagine how much Sam must miss it.

"I heard Cass won his little league game last night," Bucky says, knowing both that talking about his nephews tends to take Sam's mind off of things and that the reminder that Bucky texts Sarah on occasion now might be enough to playful irritate the melancholy away for a while.

Sam huffs a laugh out of his nose and turns his head to look at Bucky, his eyebrow raised. "Man, what did I tell you about talking to my sister?"

Bucky makes an exaggerated show of putting his hands behind his head and getting comfortable, keeping his gaze fixed on the sky above him. "No flirting involved, I swear," he says in a cheeky voice that implies the exact opposite. He's fully aware Sam knows any amount of flirting with Sarah is playful by now, a fun way for both of them to tease Sam considering how obvious it is to everyone around that Bucky's got it bad for Sam himself.

They haven't really crossed any lines on that front yet, even though Bucky's almost positive it's mutual, but they both know they're driving towards it at a pretty steady pace.

Sam reaches over and pushes him gently, and Bucky makes an even bigger show of lurching to the side. "Ignoring the fact that you were absolutely flirting with my sister, yeah, Cass did win his little league game last night. They're going to some kind of tournament in NOLA next week, and he spent like an hour on FaceTime with me last night telling me about all of the stuff he's planning to pack and all of the places he wants to go visit while they're already in town."

Sam smiles to himself with that soft, sweet smile that always makes Bucky's heart flutter in his chest before his grin drops just enough to notice if you're looking.

Bucky's always looking.

"He asked me if I could go watch him and I told him I'd try, but it feels like just about every day there's something new to teach the kids or some new urgent mission to fly out to. Sarah said she'd tape the whole thing for me, but it's still not the same, you know?"

Perhaps bringing up the baseball game wasn't Bucky's best move, he thinks.

Sam sighs and rolls back over on his back for just a moment before pushing himself upright and standing up, lightly brushing off his shorts. "We should probably head inside. Gettin' kinda late, and we have kids to teach tomorrow."

There's a grumpy retort about having to teach these new overpowered children on the tip of Bucky's tongue, but he holds it back and just shakes his head. "You go ahead. I'll catch up soon."

Sam's eyebrows knit together, but he doesn't press. "Night, Buck. Sleep tight."

"Night, Sammy," he replies softly, when Sam's a little too far away to hear.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and notes the late hour, but he figures Sharon's probably still up, so he dials her number anyways.

"You know business hours don't extend till eleven PM, right, Bucky?" she asks in lieu of a hello.

He thinks about teasing her about her time running a nightclub in the midst of a stolen art selling operation that definitely stayed open past normal business hours, but he decides against it. "Hey, Sharon? Any way that Sam could get this weekend off? Cass has a baseball game."

She hums. "You willing to tag in if the world catches fire?"

Bucky looks off in the direction that Sam had walked off in. "For Sam? Always."

[hisch13r86]

for the spotify fic ask - nicojack + 99 (13+86 eheh)

[#99] Florida!!! (feat. Florence + the machine) by Taylor Swift

And this city reeks of driving myself crazy

I need to forget, so take me to Florida

I’ve got some regrets, I’ll bury them in Florida

Set: February, 2024 post- All-Star Day 1

Jack blows out a breath and sinks further into his seat, first class but so terribly commercial. He isn’t famous enough to think that anyone’s really going to stop to notice him on a flight to Florida instead of Jersey—where he’s supposed to be going—but then again, all it takes is one person tweeting it out and the entire world will know.

Not actually the entire world, Nico would remind him if he were here and not already out on some rental boat working on his tan and pretending he gives a shit about fishing. But a sizable handful of people would suddenly become aware that he’d lied about returning to Jersey to rehab just so he could get out of having a camera pointed straight at him for two hours.

He’s been in the league four and a half years now, and it still makes his skin itch sometimes, remembering that there might be a camera on him. That there probably is a camera on him, even if it’s not the one being shown on the Jumbotron or the broadcast. It never seems to bother the other guys as much as it bothers Jack.

It certainly doesn’t bother Nico, and no matter how sympathetic he might be about the whole thing, he’ll never get it. Never feel it the way Jack does. Jack wishes he could be a little bit more like Nico in that sense. He wishes he could be a little bit more like Nico on flights, too. He never ceases to envy the way Nico can knock out in five seconds flat the second he’s settled on the team plane.

Maybe Jack would be able to do that too, if he could just get settled. But he can’t, not even when Nico’s got his arm wrapped snuggly around Jack’s waist, his mouth slightly agape as he drools onto Jack’s shoulder.

He has managed to fall asleep a handful of times, after particularly grueling games when they have to fly out to the next city immediately, but only ever if he’s got Nico to curl up against, and even then it’s once in a blue moon.

So, Jack spends the entire flight with his hood tugged up high over his curls, trying his hardest not to fidget and piss off the middle aged man in the seat beside him.

It’s like a breath of fresh air once he’s off the airplane. Which, like, obviously it’s the first actually fresh air he’s sucked into his lungs in hours, not stale like the air had grown to be throughout the flight. But also, Jack fucking loves Florida. He thinks it might be in part because this is where he was born, something deep in the marrow of his bones singing every time he comes back here even though this state has never quite felt like home. He loves the daytime sunshine and persistent warmth and evening rain, the smell of saltwater thick in the air this near to the coast.

And it’s like, no one’s ever really given a fuck about hockey in Florida, not outside of Sunrise and Tampa, at least. He can walk down the streets completely anonymous in a way he can never quite manage in Hoboken.

Nico’s there, standing beside his rental car in the pickup line, wearing abhorrent board shorts and a threadbare t-shirt stretched taut over his biceps, a backwards cap and slides. His dimples crease his cheeks as he catches sight of Jack and raises an arm, giving a wave that’s equal parts goofy and endearing. God, Jack is so obsessed with him.

The air is different here, Jack knows it is. Just as well as he knows that he needs to be crushed in one of Nico’s bear hugs right now or he might actually die.

He takes a step and then another and there’s less time between his AirForces hitting the pavement with every stride and before he knows it he’s flying down the line, hitting Nico’s chest with a torn out little oof. Nico’s hands come up to splay across his shoulder blades and Jack buries his face against the crook of his neck, unable to tamp down on the little whine before it slips out. He muffles the sound against Nico’s skin, a little damp with the sweat of Florida’s perpetual heat, so fucking warm that Jack wants to drown himself in it.

Some airport attendant tasked with ensuring nobody’s loitering around the pickup line is sure to come berate them at any second, but Jack can’t be bothered to care, clinging to Nico just as hard as Nico’s clinging to him.

“Schatz,” Nico says, quiet. Concerned. His voice reverberated over all of the places where they’re touching, from Nico’s chest straight to Jack’s. He’s asking a question. Without actually asking it. He knows Jack has a harder time lying to him when he asks outright.

“I’m fine,” he says hastily. And he isn’t, still paranoid and twitchy from the flight, from Toronto, from his fucked up shoulder, from Jersey— which he loves but will never cease to make him feel just a little bit crazy. But he’s in Florida now, with the sea breeze kicking through his curls and Nico’s arms wrapped around him and he thinks that once he has a couple of days of sunshine and boating under his belt he could get there.

Nico hums. “There’s still some daylight left,” he says, his breath ghosting over the shell of Jack’s ear. Florida is the only place where Jack doesn’t feel cold when Nico pulls away. “We could catch the sunset on the water if we hurry.”

“Yeah,” Jack breathes. That sounds— it sounds pretty damn good, actually.

[ogdoadfates]

A very short little thing for my College au! Not the best thing I’ve written but I just wanted to relax for a lil bit

When the twins were invited by Keyleth and Percy to spend break with them at Keyleth’s hometown they were not expecting to fall even deeper for their respective crushes. 

Currently the siblings are standing outside of Keyleth’s father’s house watching the other two dance with fire while in loose tank tops, the contrast of the night highlighting them further entrancing the twins.

Vax is fully aware his mouth is gaping like a fish, he’s vaguely aware of hearing Korrin chuckling at him and his sister, but he can’t take his eyes off of Keyeth. He’s rarely seen her this relaxed, like she’s fully in her element, the bright blinding smile on her face as she laughs dancing around Percy giving a twirl of one of her fire poi’s that just barely misses the white haired man yet neither of the two flinch, completely trusting the other.

Vex was in a similar state to her brother, this is the first time she’s seen Percy wear something so exposing and it’s just a loose tank top and shorts yet Vex can’t deny that she’ll miss the view when they return to Emon.

The fire wielders continue for a good while till the flames die out, the two giving a playful bow to which the three onlookers give them applause. Keyleth and Percy after setting down their tools join the twins, Percy grabbing a drink out of a cooler Korrin had dragged out a few hours earlier.

“I did NOT know how much I missed that!” Keyleth groans, hopping from foot to foot in leftover excitement, Percy makes a sound of agreement while taking a sip from his drink. Vax chuckles at Keyleth’s antics, giving her a lopsided smile.

“How long have you two been doing this?” He asks and if it was even possible both of their faces brightened even more.

“Oh gods, a couple years now I’d say.” Percy answers, looking to Keyleth for confirmation to which she nods eagerly, her hair falling a bit out of the messy bun she’d tied it into due to the rapid movement.

“Oh, definitely! Think we started when we were fourteen? Maybe fifteen?” She says tilting her head in thought. 

“Damn! That is a long time!” Vex exclaims her eyebrows going up a bit, Percy gives her a grin with a half hearted shrug as if playing with fire since being a teen was just a common hobby. “You really let these two just play with fire?” Korrin looks at Vex, surprised a little he was getting added into the conversation but lets out a few chuckles.

“Oh, trust me, them playing with fire was probably one of their safest pass times! Gods, I still remember when they thought it was a good idea to tie multiple fireworks together!” Keyleth’s father laughs.

As conversation spurred on, Vax couldn’t help but let his mind be consumed by how adorable Keyleth is when she talks about something she is passionate about, the way she can’t stand still, her expressions going over the top and a blinding excitable energy that leaks into all those around her. 

It hadn’t even been a full day yet since they’ve made it to Zephrah and yet Vax wished to never leave, since he and his sister set foot here everyone has been nothing but kind and welcoming. He’s definitely understanding where Keyleth’s personality came from, why she’s so considerate and kind, maybe he also understands why she’s a fair bit socially awkward too but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s so odd for him, to feel completely enamored by a town when everywhere else has cast him and sister out like outcasts, good gods is it a more than welcome change though.

Time soared in the meantime till eventually it was midnight which meant it was time to finally retire to their rooms, luckily Vex gave him a shove to get him out of his trance before the others noticed, they gave their goodnights and settled down. 

Vax stared across the room to where his sister lay with Trinket at her feet. He thinks for a moment how if they’d not been offered to come here how they’d be locked up in their shitty apartment with nothing to do but work, a soft smile stretches across his face as he chuckles a little. 

Vex stirs at the sound. “What?” she says tiredly.

“We’ve really lucked out haven’t we?” He says just low enough for her to hear. She sits up just enough to peer over to her brother and gives him a long look. He’s calm, he’s relaxed, the most she’s ever seen him to be honest and she herself can’t help but let a little smile come to her lips. 

He isn’t wrong, not in a million years would Vex have guessed they’d end up with such a tight knit group of friends, ones that even if she won’t admit it feel like family. Fuck even Keyleth’s father welcomed them with such open arms, you’d think they came over regularly through out the years of Keyleth and Percy’s life.

“On that dear brother we agree. Now please, go the fuck to sleep.”

[casitafallz]

LTRL AU | 22nd years old, joy...

Today was the day.

Suffice to say, she was a bundle of nerves with both negative and positive thoughts coming in waves and the plant life in her room became a lot more disorganized as she paced around, waiting until she knew people were about and the bathroom finished the rush before she decided to leave for the day and venture down to breakfast.

Isabela’s heartfelt aflutter as she sat down at the breakfast table, her eyes darting about a little in quiet excitement as everyone took their seats and dug in.

“Happy birthday, Isa.” Mirabel spoke first though as she passed her to sit, much to Isabel’s surprise; she had thought her parents would be the first to say that though now that she noticed; her parents looked a little tired and seated at the other side of the table. Her mother was sipping heavily from the coffee, even Tio Bruno looked tired as well so she assumed there was probably a late-night conversation between the adults.

“Thank you.” Isabela gave her a small smile though Abuela seemed to pull the attention quickly as she began to address the table.

“As many of you are aware, today is a special day.” Isabela straightened up as Abuela’s eyes landed on her briefly, “but, given the events of the last few months, I think it’s best to keep things more reserved. We won’t be opening Casita for a huge party.”

Isabela felt the sharp sting before a low ache of hurt settled in the back of her throat and was swift to silence anything less than a shallow swallow, masking her expression quickly that by a short, polite nod instead, dropping her gaze to her plate.

Abuela carried on. “As such, a simpler meal will surface later today. Dinner, perhaps.”

Isabela opted not to say her part or risk showing the deflation of joy that… her birthday was reduced down to a simple meal to acknowledge it. She supposed it was better than the alternative; nothing… but it was her birthday. She was supposed to have a party. She always had a party.

“Since it’s your birthday, you’re letting off your chores for the day.” Agustín spoke warmly to her, “My parents are coming down this evening to see you as well.”

Isabela nodded softly, “Okay, Papa.” She supposed it would be nice to see Abuelita and Abuelito… she had only really seen them in passing the last few months, no proper meet up since Mirabel’s quinceañera. She did like them but…before she hadn’t really known how to connect with them—she had been more distant the last couple of years after all. Maybe she should try? See where she landed with them given her…actions against Mirabel.

Isabela didn’t try to hold a conversation as the mood shifted onwards through to the other family members and she was the first to leave and headed straight into town once breakfast was done.

Shops were in the process of opening, kids were milling about before school and it seemed like an average day. Last year people had stopped to wish her a happy birthday and she had been happy to show off and decorate the town for a special day.

Isabela beeline to the post box Mateo had made, fishing the key from around her neck, and opened it up. Inside lay a small, wrapped gift, two notes, and a worn pencil

The first was by Fran:

Meet at the pond, lunch is on me.

The second note was attached to the gift so Isa suspected this was from Mateo.

Isabela,

I wish I could see you today but I have to work an extra shift to finish off another piece of furniture then I can get paid. I can make it up to you tonight? Leave a time in case your family throws a huge party that goes into the night.

Fran told me it was your birthday so I’ve been working on this gift. I hope you like it.

Happy birthday.

Mateo

Curiously, she set the note down with a time and carefully unwrapped the gift. It was, as she initially expected a wooden box. Light brown, sanded down with smoothened edges, and had a light inscription of her Initials across the top than her full name. No paint but a simple varnish. Nothing too extravagant. But it looked a bit too small for a jewelry box, too flat to hold anything but earrings. So, she opened it up. Her breath paused a little.

Inside the box looked to be where the real effort of Mateo’s work lay in the form of two, hand-carved bookmarks. While most likely cut from scraps last minute, both were about the same length and thickness.

The first was of a flower relief carved into its front of the dark orange surface, a Flor de Mayo that was also unpainted so it was varnished clear with smooth grains while the light reflecting off showed the detail. The second bookmark was a lighter wood and also unpainted was a carving of a cactus. Her initials also were carved into the bottom as well.

Her fingers touched over the markers with a smile. Mateo hated how she folded the book corners in to mark her pages. A personal pet peeve for him. She had once dozed off in her tree after sneaking him in for a round of fun and he had spent an hour straightening out book corners and marking the paged with a leaf before Dolores had snuck him out for her; she hadn’t found out until morning what he had done.

She had enjoyed that far more than she had thought, so this gift was actually really funny. It almost made her chuckle before she folded the box lid down and locked it back up.

“Isa!”

To her surprise, the voice that echoed was Mirabel’s. Her eyes turned to see the girl in wonder with Dolores in fast step. If Mirabel was nervous, she didn’t show it before she held up a box to her face happily.

“¡Feliz cumpleaños!” Mirabel bounced on her heel. “I know I already said that but here’s your gift.”

“You got me a gift?” Isabela set Mateo’s gift into her side bag she commonly wore now and didn’t hesitate to take it. She couldn’t help but be surprised that…Mirabel of all people would gift her of all people.

“I made it, Si.” Mirabel shrugged, “Antonio…told me what happened with what Camilo did with that you made me and… well I’m mad at him about that and… well why wouldn’t I make you a gift.”

“A few things come to mind,” Isabela remarked, a little dryly.

Mirabel shrugged, a little awkwardly. “You’re still my sister and… I know this isn’t going to be like your normal birthdays. I’m sorry I can’t give you the party you wanted.” She fiddled with her mochila strap a little.

“Thank you.” Isabela pulled the yarn away and lifted the lid and there, nestled inside was light blue fabric. Lifting it out, Mirabel took the empty box from her hand and opened the fabric to see what looked to be a beautiful, hand-crafted shirt.

Light blue with a gradient doing down, with an inch-wide trim that went from shoulder to shoulder and would expose her collar bones. The trim was decorated with a light, leaf-based design that spread out from an orchid center. The sleeves were ruffled and plain but the main body was decorated with flower stems and small buds with a slightly darker blue thread shade than the rest of the material, giving it more texture than more color.

“You made this for me?” Isabela asked, unable to be anything less than floored by this gift. So much time and effort was put into it.  More than anything she was expecting from Mirabel of all people.

“I noticed you stopped wearing lilacs but also wearing your chores skirt and dress which was blue so...I thought a nicer blue might look good.” Mirabel smiled, touching along the back of the skirt. “It’s nice that you’ve wanted to wear something closer to our family’s side after all.”

Isabela nodded wordlessly, folding the shirt carefully back up and making sure it fit back into its box, She’d probably have to wear this on good occasions, church most likely because she didn’t want Mirabel to think she’d destroy gifts as well.

“Thank you. It’s stunning.”

Mirabel bounced a little on the spot, looking rather pleased. “Come on, Dolores. Let’s go. I’ve got more ideas in mind!”

Isabela was glad Dolores had remained background and that Mirabel was taking her with her, the look Dolores was giving her was starting to get on her nerves.

 -

 Lunchtime, Isabela had made it to the pond side where there were already a few other people, some blankets set up on the grassy space though she stood at the edge given the bench was taken. Señora Pezmuerto was with her fiancé at the edge looking at the fish which Isa was mildly worried about given the woman’s history of…fish. Her name truly was ironic.

“If she kills any of those fish, I’ll hurl her into that pond.” The grumble of Fran startled Isabela, she almost punched her in the face, stepping back sharply before she recognized who it was.

“Francesca!”

“Ooh, full name bases, Isabela.” Fran winked back then casually slunk an arm over her shoulder, “Follow me; let’s eat.”

Isabela moved with her though suspiciously. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere important. So, how was your morning of being twenty-two?”

“Boring.”

“Ah, yep. That’s a good start, I’m almost afraid to ask.” Frank wrinkled her nose, “They ban having a birthday for you?”

“No, it’s just… a meal. Dinner time.”

“What, no party? Lots of food, alcohol… for those able to drink, no passing out drunk and finding yourself in bed with your former, best friend’s brother?”

“That is very specific.” Isabela pointed out. Not entirely surprised if any of that was true for Fran. She doubted the girl was a virgin, despite the expectation of waiting for marriage for all girls here. God forbid, her Abuela would throw a fit about it if she found out.

Fran shrugged with a slight tinge to her cheeks but was otherwise unfazed. As Fran said, nowhere overly important, but it was a nice café with a selection of food.

“So, I’ve spoken to a few people,” Fran started after they ordered, pulling out a notepad and pencil. “this is my birthday present to you, and… well, I’ll be tagging along.”

“It’s okay, I don’t need a birthday present.”

“Too bad, I’m not looking like a dick for not getting you a present on your birthday. If it’s gonna be a shit one, at least I’m not adding to it.” Fran pointed out before the cafe server dropped off their drinks. “Now, I have no wood skills like Mateo and you’ve got the whole plants thing, it felt weird to try and go for flowers. I decided to get you something far more useful and productive.”

“I’m getting a little paranoid about where this is going.”

“Well don’t be. This is useful because it could be something that’ll earn you money one day.”

“I’m listening.”

“So, I talked to the potters to see about them teaching you the ways of clay and they’ve agreed to a trial to see how we handle it. They don’t want to commit if we’re not capable of learning.” Fran turned her nose up, “And the other things I’ve done is also talked to the textiles families; you know the weavers, spinners and dyers mostly down at my end of town.”

Isabela gave her a quizzical look, “Textiles?”

“You grow cotton, no doubt hemp and flax too.” Fran listed, “if you learn how to process it, then you can sell threads or even make the material yourself.”

“I thought you hated shortcuts?”

“I do, but if it’s a chance to undermine your strict Abuela, I’m all in because I like inviting chaos and…I think you might enjoy the process. You make the raw product but the processing of it is where your work ethic should be.”

Isabela blinked though she could see entirely the angle Fran was going for. Like the pond; Fran wasn’t too concerned about where she got the plants from, as long as they worked without using it to make the pond stunning and to be as ‘natural’ as possible. They did put a lot of work into it.

“Huh, I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I am. So, here’s the sort of timetable I’ve put together; I left the morning you do your chores out as unavailable and of course your curfew times,” her tone soured as she pushed the notebook to her. “Two to three hours a day or more might be a good, solid start. Once you’ve learned what you need to, they’re redundant unless you’re seeking employment”

“If all else fails, I dry and petals and sell them as tea.” Isabela snorted as an afterthought.

“I’d say don’t scrape the bottom of the barrel just yet. We haven��t even touched on the food side of opportunities but let’s not get too far ahead, you’re looking a little overwhelmed.” Fran patted her arm. “But, let’s talk about that later. Did you get any good presents?”

Isabela inhaled deeply, trying to gather her thoughts of this…present that Fran had given her. She hadn’t anticipated that.

“Bookmarkers from Mateo, Mirabel made me a beautiful shirt, and… either the others are waiting until dinner or I’m not getting anything.”

“Ugh. I get my presents in the morning and enjoy them for the day.” Fran grumbled, “I wouldn’t tolerate anything less.”

“Oh, that I can see.” Isabela agreed, earning an elbow nudge before their plates arrived.

 -

 Spending most of her day in town, Isabela did enjoy herself; the little extra attention Fran gave her had made her feel a bit better but she knew dinner with the family was next to endure before she could enjoy a few hours of pleasure with Mateo.

Casita even felt a little vacant as she walked back in but she could hear talking from the dining room and hear her mother’s voice. She dropped off her things onto her bed before she opted to change into Mira’s present and chose a deep blue matching skirt, even if it was without décor; its colors would blend well.

Returning to the dining room, her heart sunk if a little bit to see the room sparsely decorated. It was set up as a proper meal, food being set down, the table was filled with the family as well, so she clearly arrived just in time, unfortunately, her space at the end of the table. Direct line of sight

“Happy birthday, Mija.” Her mother smiled at her softly, guiding her to her heat touch a soft touch to her back.

“Thank you, Mami.” Her voice was polite, as was the smile but yet it made her mother’s vanish for a moment. Isa sat down swiftly, keeping her back straight.

Dolores was seated to her left and Luisa on her right, Mirabel looked a little put out at the seating but she seemed to light up as she realized what Isa was wearing which…did lighten Isa’s dampened mood.

She suppose she should be grateful that she was getting a birthday dinner, but she felt….a little bitter. No decorations, no birthday sign even. It made her itch to skip out on this and go to her room instead and… even if she was to point it out, she’d be the one causing issues; making them feel bad for not fulfilling it. At least then she'd escape to her room.

“You okay?” Dolores asked quietly as they all began to eat though Isa ignored her parent’s looks thrown her way, probably concerned or annoyed.

“Did someone run out of paper for a sign?” Isa remarked softly, “this doesn’t feel like a birthday dinner. Just dinner.”

Dolores sighed softly, “You’ve got presents coming after dessert.”

“Hm.” Her tone was mildly disbelieving. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Don’t be rude, Isa” Luisa hissed softly, “Mama put a lot of work into dinner.”

“She does with every meal she makes, Luisa.” Isabela replied coolly, eyeing her younger sister with a dry look, “The fact it’s my birthday hasn’t changed anything today except I have no chores. My whole special day’s been reduced to dinner and even then no one could be bothered to up a 'feliz cumpleaños' on a sign anywhere.”

“Isa,” Abuela warned softly, “There’s no need to get angry.”

Isabela opted to shove a spoon full of corn into her mouth to stuff her retort back. Fran’s attitude was started to rub on her and she could already feel her temper flaring. The grip on her cutlery increased and she could feel the pace of her heart increase.

Unfortunately, her mouth of corn didn’t last long though seeing Camilo scoff and roll his eyes didn’t help. She narrowed her eyes at him though he tactfully noticed and avoided her stare. Dolores nudged her softly.

The air at the table had changed now, once comfortable now there was a tension hanging in the air. Isa could already guess she had ruined dinner but… did that really matter? This wasn’t even a birthday dinner.

Her anger simmered a little and she could feel her eyes heat a little but she blinked the tears away.

This wasn’t a birthday dinner.

This was dinner.

Her birthday was reduced to nothing.

She wasn’t worth even a goddamn sign.

“Hey,” Dolores’s hand came to her back, hearing the soft catch in her breathing. “Do you need a minute?”

Isabela nodded, realizing that her knife and fork had a slight shake in her grip before letting them clatter down before she felt Dolores tug her arm and pulled her away from the table.

“Not you, Tia,” Dolores called before the cool air from the courtyard seem to tingle her cheeks.

Her vision blurred a little as the tears returned but thankfully, Dolores led them further away to the far seats.

“You okay?” Dolores whispered.

“I thought they’d… they’d put up signs…” She sniffled. “Something… but there’s nothing. It’s my birthday! It’s supposed to acknowledge. I know I did bad, but are they still punishing me for it?”

“Of course not,” Dolores spoke, looking alarmed. “I know this is a different birthday to last year but it has nothing to do with what you did.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Isabela spat, “Last year was a great party! I had friends over! We drank and had an amazing time. No party, no friends, and I’m not even allowed alcohol! Do you really expect me to be happy on that account?!”

Dolores’s head tilted off to the side then back to her. “Isa, the others can hear you.”

“I don’t care. Everything I do is judged against what I did. Why is it that out of everyone in this family, Mirabel actually put effort to give me my present this morning and wished me a 'happy birthday'. No one else did that. Not even you and you were even there. Mama's one barely felt genuine given she waited the entire day to tell me that!”

She gave her younger prima a glare. “I’m done.” with that, Isa turned on her heel and marched straight into her room and the slam echoed down through Casita.

  -

Silence seemed to ring in the dining room though Mirabel felt her cheeks turn pink a little as she felt a few looks her way but she felt the knowing guilt return because… Isabela was right and yet…wrong as well. She could certainly see Isa’s way…all day hoping and just not seeing. It had to hurt.

“Excuse me.” Mama rose to her feet sharply and walked through the kitchen to where on the side, a little out of view sat a large, decorated cake and a stack of birthday presents.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

The Right Fit

Summary: This is a short one. Steven has at last accomplished something amazing in academia and the other two decide to give him a gift. Welcome to your rightful place, Steven.

Warning: None

Word Count: 978

Word Prompt:  Suit

--

It had been a long and difficult journey. 

Possibly not as long as it could have been. Steven had done so much of the work before he had even set foot on campus. Tests and presentations and meetings had taken up his days. Special considerations had also been taken that had made all three of them nervous, even though Jake had pretended to not care. 

A second job working on campus at the bookstore then promoting up to teacher’s assistant. Night shift cabbie jobs done by Jake and weekend chores done by Marc. When Steven felt overwhelmed or had failed to sleep for the third night in a row, Jake and Marc traded on who got to step in and knock Steven out. 

Now, Steven stood in his flat, exhausted but feeling beyond accomplished. “I did it.” He was still clutching the piece of paper he had gotten in a special flat envelope in the mail. “It’s done. I can’t believe it’s done!” 

He pulled out the special frame he had gotten just for this occasion. Slipping off the back, he carefully pressed the paper into the frame then sealed it up. 

“Doctor Grant.” He beamed as he admired the frame. “I quite like the sound of that.” Steven carefully moved to hang the frame up over the fish tank. 

“Hey, we have a present for you.” Jake spoke up, sounding nonchalant but there was a hint of nervousness there too. 

“Oh?” Steven blinked away from the frame. “I don’t need a present. I mean, you guys helped me out so much. This is really an accomplishment for all of us!” 

Marc had pulled all the right strings to make sure all the schoolwork had been given to Steven and Steven alone. It was all in his name and there was no mention of Marc anywhere on the papers. While the school had been made aware of their special circumstances, Jake and Marc had both sworn up and down before the Dean himself that they would not be helping to cheat or bringing unwanted public opinion to the school. 

In fact, Jake and Marc had both taken their own aptitude tests to prove that Steven was in fact the brains of the operation. Neither of them told Steven what their scores had been. Steven suspected that they were probably higher than they thought they would be, but knew they had both been reluctant about their shared GED experience after school and the Marines had failed them. 

What had really brought Steven to tears with pure love was when Marc and Jake had both decided to sit with the school counselor for evaluation. Marc had spent the day before fighting off such a massive panic attack that Steven had briefly considered sitting in for him. Marc had refused and gone in like a champion, his face set in stone and shoulders square as he marched in. 

By the time he came out, he had collapsed on himself and Jake had been forced to take them home. Marc had held his breath through most of the session. When Jake went in, he had stared down the counselor with what had first seemed to be utter malice. It was later determined to be him fighting off a flashback by dissociating so hard that he had zero memory of the actual session. Apparently it had gone well enough. 

When Steven had sat in his own session, bubbling and talkative and chatting up the counselor like this was all nothing to him, they had given their approval to let him take the classes he wanted. They had also slipped a piece of paper to him with a good therapist recommendation for the other two. Marc had promptly thrown it in the bin and made Steven Promise that he would never force them to do anything like that again. 

“This is your dream, Steven.” Marc grinned. “And we wanted you to have this. So… Stop being stubborn and just accept it, okay?” 

“It was Marc’s idea.” Jake spoke up, moving them to pull a large box out of the closet. 

“How on earth did you guys get this without me noticing?” Steven stared at the box in bafflement. 

“Not as hard to do as you’d think.” Jake shrugged. “You sleep like a baby.” 

“And are super unobservant when we do anything around here.” Marc nodded. “I honestly brought it into the place hidden under a stack of books for the first couple of days.” 

“Wow. I…I think I’m a little disappointed in myself now.” Steven laughed. “Can I open it?” He fidgeted his fingers on his sleeves. He wasn’t used to presents. Things that were just his made him nervous. He always wanted to share. To let others be happy too. He secretly hoped it was some sort of cake or something so he could invite friends over to enjoy it too. 

“Of course you can open it!” Marc sighed. “It’s for you! Go on! You aren’t going to be a doctor for the first time forever!” 

Steven took off the lid and stared down into the box with puzzlement for a moment. His hand was trembling as he picked up the item. He wasn’t sure if it was him that was trembling or perhaps Marc. “A hat?” 

“We aren’t getting you a machete.” Jake smiled. 

Recognition brought tears to his eyes as he suddenly understood. He quickly moved to stand before a mirror and put the hat on. 

It was large and out of place here in his London flat, but soon it would be out where it belonged. He had already been invited out to a dig site to help translate a new tomb that had been found. 

“When danger is near.” Marc smirked. 

Steven had the largest smile he could muster as he tilted the hat back. “Steven Grant has no fear.” 

[adatheromcomaddict]

How You Meet the Cullens + Jacob

Hi! I've decided I'm going to put some of my stuff from Wattpad, over here. If you want to see my Wattpad, its the same username as I have here. Anyway, this is how you meet the Cullens, + Jacob. Probably intended for female readers, but it could mostly go either way... I think. And I do have the girls as well in here.

Edward Cullen:

Edward and you met at school. Of course.

"Um, excuse me?" You asked a small girl, with short brown hair.

She turned around, revealing her pale white skin, and beautiful golden eyes.

"How can I help you?" She asked.

"I was wondering where Mr. Molina's classroom is?" You replied.

"Oh, yes. I can show you the way!" She grabbed your hand, and pulled you down the halls. (Wow, this is turning into an Alice preference)

"Thank you!" You said, when you two arrived at the classroom.

She pointed inside the room, towards a beautiful boy, with golden hair, and dark, dark, eyes. He glared at her, with his hand over his mouth. I turned to look at her, and she winked back at him.

"Uh, thank you. Oh, I never got your name." You said.

"Alice. Yours?" She asked, still smiling.

"Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, looks like you'll be sitting next to my brother, Edward, in there." She waved, and skipped away.

I walked inside the class, towards the boy, and sat down. He looked away, took a deep breath, then turned back to me.

"Hi, um, I'm Y/N. You're Edward, right?" I asked.

"Yes. I-I am." He seemed like he was in pain or something.

Weird.

Jacob Black:

I had lived in the outermost part of Forks for as long as I have lived. (Sounds like a wedding vow)

We were right next to the border of La Push. Therefore, I go to the school in the reservation.

(I have absolutely NO clue what the school is like there, so I'm making it up)

But, I didn't really talk to anyone. I had a few friends from down in the more central part of Forks, Bella Swan was one of them. She recently moved here full time. I hadn't seen her since I was little.

There was this one kid named Jacob who I had met a couple of times, mostly when he played with Bella snd I while our parents went fishing or whatever.

But, since Bella was going to school in Forks, I decided I would try and re-connect with this Jacob, to see if I could hang out with him.

So, I asked around one day at school for what classes he was in, and found out that he was in one of my classes. How did I never notice? Oh, just me and my oblivious self. (Sorry, if you're like- not oblivious?)

Well, I found him one day.

"Jacob, right?" I asked him.

"Oh, yes, oh, oh! Y/N! Hi!" He seemed to be a very nice boy.

"Yes, it's me. Um, I haven't talked to you in years, I'm surprised you remember my name." I explained.

"I'm surprised you remembered mine." He laughed.

"So, uh, I"m kind of wondering if you want to like, hang out or something. Anywhere works. I just need some company." (Bella who?)

"Sire! You could come by my house today after school and we can catch up. Do you like cars?" He asked.

"Depends." I laughed in response.

"Well, you can come help me too. I like to re-build them."

"Sounds like a plan."

Emmett Cullen:

(for this one you are a vampire already, and yes I basically stole Rosalie's life. Also, if I get facts wrong, don't come for me, just tell me *kindly* and I will fix it)

I became a vampire in 1920. Two years after my brother Edward, and one year before my mother Esme.

I'd been a vampire for 15 years already. How time flies

One day I was running through the forest when I heard screams coming from a small patch. I sprinted towards the place, and saw a boy, probably 20, getting attacked by a bear. I shoved the bear off of him instantly, and bit into it, getting it's blood.

I remembered that the boy was watching, and was probably shaken up, not to mention, he was most likely dying. I turned back towards him, wiping a small bit of blood off of my lip, and said,

"Hello, I'm Y/N Cullen."

"E-Emmet. How did you do that?" He asked, very weakly.

"I have my ways. What hurts?" I asked.

"Everything." Of course-

"I'll be right back. Don't move." Not that he really could. I sprinted back to my house. I opened the door, and Carlisle, Esme, and Edward turned towards me.

"Y/N? What is it?" Carlisle asked.

"There's a boy, Emmett. He got attacked by a bear. He's very weak. You need to turn him Carlisle."

They all sprinted into the woods, and I led them towards where Emmett lay. He was still there, but weaker.

Jasper Hale:

(you're a vampire)

Jasper became a vampire in 1863. (I think)

He was telling me his story.

I had recently been turned into a vampire by Carlisle, after he rescued me, and I hadn't really met the rest of the family yet. (You can make up why you had to become a vampire)

When Jasper had finished the story, I said, "Wow."

"That's all I could get out. His story was just, wow....

I forgot, Edward could read my mind. I only remembered when he chuckled after I thought that.

I gave him an internal glare.

Bella was sitting in the corner, with him.

"So, Y/N, tell us your full story." Jasper smiled.

(Sorry, his is kind of short..)

Carlisle Cullen:

It was my first day working at the Forks Hospital and I needed some directions.

I walked up to mid-height man, with blonde hair, and very pale skin.

"Hello, sir?" I asked him, and he spun around.

"Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?" He asked.

"H-how do you know my last name?" I asked in response.

"I heard someone talking about you coming, and you're the only new face around here. We don't get them often." He smiled, and my heart fluttered. Good thing he wasn't like a super-hearer or anything. {;)}

"Well, uhm, I was just wondering where the surgical ward is?" He pointed towards the left, and I smiled slightly, walking away, and quietly looking back at him after I was sure he couldn't see me.

Alice Cullen:

(You had already seen Alice before, but never interacted with her much, like most of the students)

I was walking around in the forest, when I heard footsteps.

"Hello?" I called out.

"Y/N!" A girl replied, I noticed it was Alice Cullen.

"Oh, hello, Alice." I was a bit confused to how she knew my name, but to be honest, I knew her's too and that's a bit strange. But, everyone does talk about the Cullens.

"What are you doing out here in the forest?" She asked me. I didn't have a valid answer. I could say "Just felt like taking a stroll..." or "Oh, I'm working on my steps." but, none of those were true, I really didn't know what I was doing here.

"Uhm, working on my steps, and taking a stroll....??" I questioned myself.

"Oookay then. Would you like to come with me? I can show you some of my favorite spots to relax." The way she said relax made me think she wasn't relaxing, and probably meant running around and exercising. Just what I needed.

"Sure, sounds great." I smiled.

Rosalie Hale:

Everyone that lives in Forks knows about the Cullens. Even the people in the reservation.

There's the three boys, the goofy one, the silent one, and the constipated one.

Then there's the two girls. Alice and Rosalie.

I've talked to Alice, we've said hi.

But in general, I know nothing about Rosalie.

All I know is she is incredibly smart, beautiful, and did I mention gorgeous?

I've never had the guts to talk to her. Maybe it's that I'm a wimp, or maybe it's that she is very intimidating. Probably a mixture of both.

But today, I got lucky, and didn't have to talk to her. She talked to me.

I had noticed her eyeing me a few times, and I never knew if she was looking down on me, in a bad way, or if she was interested in me. Both ways scared me.

Today, she came up to me.

I was sitting at the lunch table with Angela and Jessica, and the new kid, Bella.

"Y/N, can I talk to you really quick?" She asked.

"Uh, uh, yes, yes, sure." I stood up quickly, and while walking away with her, I turned towards Angela and Jess, and they smiled and winked.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I asked.

"Well, I wanted to know... did you want to hang out sometime?"

"Like, a date...?"

"Uh, yeah. Like a date." She smiled and we both laughed.

"Sure." I smiled back.

Bella Swan:

Apparently, today Chief Swan's daughter is moving to the school.

I'm looking forward to it, I want to make more friends.

I was standing outside, waiting to see if I spotted her, when a big, orange-red truck pulled into the parking lot.

It must be her! I've never seen that truck before.

I ran up to it, when I saw people laughing at it. Whatever, I think it's cool.

She climbed out of her truck, and I probably startled her, standing there.

"Hi! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. You're Chief Swan's daughter, right?" I asked.

"Uh, yes. Bella Swan." She stuck out her hand, and I shook it.

"So, do you want to know anything, anything special?" I asked.

"Um, I'm not sure...." She said, tucking her hair behind her ear. (Ugh, a classic Bella move)

"No worries. Let me show you to your first class." I smiled, and took her hand, pulling her down the hallway.

Esme Cullen:

I was walking around town, alone. A kind of dangerous move, since there have been so many mysterious attacks lately.

I was looking through random stores, when I noticed Esme Platt, (we're just saying she isn't a Cullen because I guess they aren't married...????) Carlisle Cullen's old friend. (I don't even know how to write this...)

"Hi, Esme." I said.

"Oh, hello, Y/N." She smiled.

"How have you been?" I haven't seen her in a while. We've talked a few times.

"I've been good, how have you been?" She replied.

"I'm great. We really should catch up sometime." I said, trying to be subtle.

"Yes, we should. Do you want to go to lunch tomorrow?" She asked.

"Of course! Where do you want to go?"

"Don't worry about me. I won't eat much anyway."

******

So, yeah, that's it. I'm aware that these aren't perfection, bur they were fun to write so, yeah!

I will be posting a lot more now since I'm getting really into writing again ;)

Thank you all for reading, (not that a ton of people are going to read this lol)

And yeah, see you soon! :3

-Ada

[bfictioncorner]

Pink Sweater (Hopper x OC/Reader)

(Omg I’ve forgotten how to write fic summaries.)

Pairing: Chief Hopper x OC (or reader if you wanna change the name and pretend)

Rating: PG-13/R 

Warnings/content: erotic dancing, daddy kink (mild), grinding, over-the-clothes stuff...

Summary: Hopper meets a new dancer at a local joint but can’t place where he knows her from.

Author Note:

Okay finally posting this after sitting on it for like a year for a few different reasons... Sort of a self-insert/OC type of situation, inspired by boredom and downtime while actually working on set of the actual show (yes... I’m cringe like that; I did background work on Stranger Things and wrote this up.)

Enjoy?

Long nights on duty were disorienting, and definitely lonely. Despite knowing the next morning he would see the guys at the station, and the same waitresses at the diners and coffee shops, and, eventually, Joyce and one of the many children in her kids’ friend group, the late night patrols put Jim in a weird headspace. A very liminal headspace that reminded him a little too much of some of the weirder ongoings in the town.

It probably wasn’t a good look, but after nights like those, he would allow himself to sneak off to Gallyan’s. At least the name was somewhat discreet, and not something like “Peaches” or “Twin Spires”. Not that it mattered. He was the Chief of Police, and could get away with it. Or, the truth, he knew, was that people were aware of his less-than-professional behavior, and just let it slide. Who else was going to do his job? The law enforcement presence in Hawkins was small and bumbling, and hardly ever needed. The most he ever needed to do was break up fights outside bars, and even then he didn’t care to do that. 

It was a Tuesday night at Gallyan’s (more like Wednesday morning at 2am). Jim hadn’t been there in a few months. He sat in his vehicle, just outside the cheap neon signage, debating on if he was even really feeling it. He needed something to get him out of his funk. Not coffee, not pills, not something that would make it worse. He wasn’t particularly in the mood, but it was worth a try. 

“Okay…” he breathed out. He finished his cigarette hurriedly, and slammed the door behind him. 

Walking into the place, he kept his hat tipped low, and his blue jacket on, just covering his badge. The doormen were still well aware it was him, mumbling a greeting and not even asking for an entry fee.

The further in he got, Jim finally, slowly, removed his hat, brow staying low with his glance cast down. He shouldn’t have felt weird or bad about being there, but he recognized a lot of sleazy faces he’d detained in the past, and it was just uncomfortable.

“Hi handsome, how are you tonight?” a gentle voice asked him, right as he sat at a far away table.

“Fine…” Jim trailed off as he looked the woman up and down. She was all of five feet tall (maybe some change with the heels, but still tiny), and dressed in a very subtle, pink lingerie set.

Something about her short stature and black bangs seemed familiar. Those features weren’t super defining, but they stood out enough and he couldn’t tell why…

“I’m Goldie,” the dancer said, closing the space between her and the chief’s lap.

“Oh, like Goldilocks. Is that because of your long, blonde locks?” Jim smiled sarcastically, eyes trailing over her black hair.

“Mmmhmm. Don’t have three bears, though… Just looking at one big one.” She bit her tongue in a cheeky smile, sliding down onto his lap fully. 

Jim started fishing around for his wallet. As much as being called a “bear” surprisingly turned him on, he knew she was just trying to initiate a transaction. Fair enough.

“How much? $50? $100? I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve noticed you here before, but you’re probably one of the more expensive dancers, right?”

“I’ll take that, even though $50 is still a bit low…” She had to chuckle at him. “This one’s on me.”

“Nothing’s ever free, Goldie. What do you want? I had a long shift. Let me pay whatever you want upfront.”

Jim couldn’t understand why she was laughing again, or being sweet on him. Like genuinely sweet, and laughing as if she was shy about something.

“Listen, if you’re trying to offer some other services, maybe it’s best you don’t.” He clinked at his badge with his index finger.

“I’m not offering that,” Goldie sighed pointedly. “Let me give you this one on the house, and just join me out back for a drink after. My shifts get long and stressful too, you know. Sometimes I just want company.” There was that sweet little smirk again.

Goldie was talking to him like she knew him. He still couldn’t think if he’d known her from somewhere. But why him?

Most girls around the club had been dancing to a soundtrack of fast paced hair metal. It wasn’t terrible, but the energy was a bit much for that hour of the night/morning. However (maybe by Goldie’s subtle request), the next track eased into “Dance the Night Away”, a little more soft and mellow. 

Goldie’s moves were refreshingly gentle and loving. In fact, she had a hard time not looking back at Jim with heavy lids and a flirtatious glance. 

She sank against his broad, warm body, leaning against his chest and feeling his breath against her ear. He smelled smokey and like beer (even though he hadn’t had a drink yet). It was a fitting and weirdly endearing scent.

She placed his big hands firmly around her waist, allowing him to pull her over his crotch. The uniform fabric, from his thick thighs to the tightness below his belt, was so taut and inviting. Goldie couldn’t help but run her hands over those legs, lingering over the plush outer sides of his ass.

Jim used his firm grip to turn her to face him.

“Ah, ah,” she chastised, gleefully, “I’m giving the dance here.”

He replied with a small, shot down glance. She loved being so tiny compared to him and telling him what to do.

After a moment of some sways here and there, Goldie settled back onto the officer’s lap, squeezing her thighs around the width of his. She smoothed her little hands over his chest--his pecs straining slightly under his shirt. He was just so big all around.

“Don’t mind me…” She plucked open the top shirt button, and then the one after that. Seeing his chest hair peek out the top, she raked her pink fingernails through it. 

Her hands continued roaming around, gripping his soft waist, then his shoulders, then giving in to the urge to smooth her fingers over his rugged beard. She just about purred at the feel of it. Jim took notice, and discreetly slid his hands over her backside, all while offering a playful grin.

“Keep it over the panties, Chief,” she murmured.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She liked that a lot.

The song kept going as she continued to grind rhythmically against his crotch. His tight pants had only gotten tighter, and his hardness started to rub friction in the right spot for her. But she couldn’t let that happen. Not tonight, or at least not at work.

She pressed his head to her chest, trying to ease off of the grinding slowly. Even his stubble felt delicious against her bosom. He breathed in how much she smelled like cherry candy and whiskey--an interesting combo, but one that fit her small, friendly demeanor.

The song faded out, and just like that, Poison was playing over the speakers, and Goldie was off his lap. 

Jim was afraid that was it. Not only would he be left halfway pitching a tent, but he still didn’t know where he knew Goldie from.

Disappointed, he sank against his chair and lit a smoke. 

“Come on…” A tiny touch accompanied the voice. Goldie now stood beside him with a bottle of Evan Williams. “I’m off duty and so are you, so let’s have that drink.”

The big chief followed the petite dancer down the back halls and out an emergency exit. The bouncers wouldn’t have usually allowed anyone clearance, but they recognized Jim all too well, and could see that Goldie was leading him around, like a puppy.

They emerged into the brisk early morning air. Goldie, now draped in a big leather jacket, looked so small and so much younger than she first looked in the dim lights. 

She teasingly swiped the cigarette from Jim’s lips, smoking on it herself. “I gotta say, I’ve been hoping I’d get to see you here. It’s kinda weird.” She bundled herself against him for extra warmth, and he absent-mindedly wrapped an arm around her.

“Where have I seen you?” he smiled. In most other cities, if someone seemed familiar, it was just a coincidence or something. But Hawkins was small. People only had so many places to go, and so many people to run into.

“Do you remember doing Career Day a year and a half ago? At Hawkins High, for the seniors?” 

He sort of did. Most days were hazy due to weird hours, liquor, and boredom. 

“Guess you could say I didn’t take you up on the summer job… Or any of those jobs, haha.” She handed the stubby cigarette back to Jim.

That petite frame, the fluffy dark hair, the pink… It reminded Jim of a student who, after the Career Day presentations, awkwardly approached him. Super shy, and dressed very modestly in a pink sweater, pink tights, and a long blue church skirt.

The student, in question, bashfully asked if the station was hiring anyone to help with filing, or even cleaning and errand running. Jim told them to go speak to Flo if she wanted any help. But it didn’t seem to really matter. The girl kind of lingered, eyes looking him up and down while blushing.

“Sorry, had a crush on you,” Goldie blurted, a bit more bluntly than she meant. 

The corner of Jim’s lip curled up. He leaned his hip and shoulder against the wall, while slightly craning down to look into her eyes. “I’m probably old enough to be your dad.”

A giddy chill ran down Goldie’s spine. “I’m still a grown woman. I know my tastes. My tastes are pretty mature.” She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I’m into the dad-type.”

She glanced at him with a touch more lust in her words.

“So you had a crush on me. Huh.”

“Didn’t say it went away…”

Jim’s eyes darted around for a moment, masking the fact that he was a bit flattered and flustered.

Goldie could see through, though, and handed him the bottle of bourbon.

“So… if you want… I can give you my number, and maybe—“

“You come see me here again,” Goldie responded with a wink. “For now.”

“Fair enough.” Jim smiled, and offered back the bottle.

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in January? Pick a card reading

Hello! Time to see what January has in store for you! Pick a picture you're most drawn too. Which image catches your eye?

Used: Tarot, Lenormand and astrology oracle cards + charms and shufflemancy for short messages

Pictures are from Shadow House by Soumatou, I've only edited them.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Tarot readings will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them and that’s okay too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason of making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

The Sun – Fish & Tower – House of Journeys – Sagittarius – Saturn – New Moon

It looks like January is going to be a lot of fun and celebration for you - and not just for the new year. You will manage to overcome difficulties and fears. You will see clearly what awaits you and look boldly to the future.

On the cards I see fish swimming towards the tower - the one in which the princesses in fairy tales used to be alone. In the next month you will appreciate the solitude, the moments of being in your own company will be very important to you. I don't think it would be a complete disconnection from people - towards the tower, towards your solitude, many fish are swimming - rather finding some free time for yourself. It's not that people are bad, it's just that everyone needs a little solitude as well.

In January, you will have to travel - not necessarily in a literal way. The Ninth House is about learning, broadening your horizons, getting to know other points of view, and verifying your own. This will be a development time for you. It can go hand in hand with spirituality and religion. The zodiac of the ninth house is Sagittarius, and it is with its attitude that you will approach this month. Time to discover, philosophize, think "Why?". You want to develop and you are enthusiastic about the future. At the same time, however, you will not forget about the foundations. You are ambitious, but disciplined and aware of your limitations - and if not, you will face them. The part of you that is afraid, worried, but most likely will solve your troubles, will come to the fore. Remember to plan this month. What do you want? What are your goals for this month? Approach the situation with a clear head. Make this a real new start for you, not the worthless New Year's resolutions that people often forget before the end of January.

Message: How about now?

Song: Skyfall by Adele

PILE 2

The Magician – Moon & Lady – House of Origins – Libra – Venus – First Quarter

It's time to dream and pursue these dreams! You have a strong willpower. In January, you will take what you find and adjust it to your desires. The Magician manifests what it wants, while remaining in harmony with the world. As above, so below. It is possible that in January you will become more interested in spirituality.

I draw more cards and I see desires, fantasies and intuition again. I notice two options here. The one I am inclined to is that in January you will be closer to your more feminine side - the emotional side that "just" knows, has a lot of depth. The second possibility is that someone like that will play a greater role in your life, perhaps you have manifested it.

The moon reappears here - it is the ruling planet of the fourth house. Your family and ancestors, as well as your youth, will play an important role this month. What did your childhood teach you? What good and bad did you learn at home? It is possible that you will return to your home, even for a short visit. Politeness will dominate your attitude. You will be composed, charming, calm, it will be difficult to throw you off balance. Venus is the ruling planet of Virgo, and she represents that part of you that will be significant here. Beauty, love, relationships, attraction - it will all come to the fore in you. Most likely you will feel more comfortable with that part of yourself, maybe you will release something within yourself. The cards encourage you to take action, overcome adversity. Put your plans into practice and take the first step! I see a rainbow on two of the four cards - when I saw the first one, it already popped into my head that if you belong to the LGBTQ + community, this might play a role for you in January. Perhaps you will confront it with your family? I also allow the possibility that someone from it will do a coming out.

Message: Better together

Song: GRRRLS by AViVA

PILE 3

X of Swords (Reversed) – Anchor & Way – House of Transformation – Leo – Jupiter – Waxing Gibbous

It's possible something bad has happened to you, someone has stabbed you in the back. It was inevitable - perhaps you expected it. In January, however, you will not plunge into despair, but focus on regeneration, returning to form. It will be a time of rest.

As a result, you felt on your journey that it was time to drop your anchor and collect your thoughts. Important decisions await you, and the vast ocean offers many opportunities and possibilities. You have doubts, so you want to think things through first. You don't want to make hasty decisions. Just remember not to stay in this state for too long - you may be missing out on something great, or the decision will be made for you.

The reading so far has said that you will leave something behind you, those who have failed you, you will rest and go on your way. The Eighth House makes this point: something must be left behind. Time for changes. You will approach them confidently, with your head held high, like a king - a wise, charismatic and just king. You will not close in on yourself, you will remain a warm person who is optimistic about the future. That's why you will seek happiness, develop yourself. Furthermore, you will focus on what gives you fulfillment. You'll be confident. You have to analyze your mistakes so far, and improve your plans to be successful.

Message: Stay yourself

Song: Castle by Halsey

[ramzawrites]

requesting an angsty fic where reader is schlatts kid and they have the same features as him, namely the horns so people avoid them because of what schlatt did, it leads to reader hating their horns and cutting them off/ ripping them out and someone finds them crying, covered in blood with their horns just on the ground or smth, set after schlatts death btw

A Painful Reminder - Dad!Schlatt and Reader - Part 1

Part 2

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Niki, (mentioned) Schlatt, (mentioned) Techno

Warnings: self harm (destroying own horns with a blunt object), mention of blood, abondenment, depression, cursing

Series: an angst request!

Summary: Y/N is the child of Schlatt and after his death tried their best to deal with the grief. Hoping to connect with people only to painfully realize that their horns are a painful reminder to everyone for Schlatt’s rule and therefore try to stay as far as possible from them.

Words count: 2428

Authors Note: I hope this is fine! I struggled a bit with it and I think you can tell, I apologize for that. I’m honestly not that good with angst but if you enjoy it I’m happy!! Please give me feedback on how to get better at angst :o

I love you guys and please take care of yourself 💙

After Schlatt died and Pogtopia effectively won the war against Manberg only for the nation to get blown up by Wilbur, the people tried their best to rebuild with the help of Tubbo as the new president.

There was a new sense of hope that swept through the nation. They all suffered greatly to get to this place but this was a turning point for most. A time for healing. A time for rebuilding what was lost. A time for grief.

While Y/N spent most of their time building up their own home inside L’Manberg, they were struggling a lot with grief.

They mourned for the loss of the only parent they had in their life, Schlatt.

The president of Manburg, the tyrant that died surrounded by his enemies inside a van. The only parent of Y/N.

The relationship between the two was complicated to say the least. Deep inside they still loved their father but he brought so much pain and even bloodshed on people that they couldn’t in good conscience support him.

For the longest time they tried their best trying to persuade him, that he would change his way but he never listened. Either too full with his own ego or too drunk to care. The last straw that broke the camel’s back for Y/N was when Schlatt ordered Tubbo’s execution.

The emotions they felt while they yelled and wailed at Schlatt to stop this madness was still fresh in their mind whenever their thoughts lingered back to that day. Quackity had to  physically restrain and pull them back on Schlatt’s orders.

It was the moment they realized that there was no way for them to reach Schlatt anymore. He was set in his way and nothing could change that.

After their death to Technoblade’s blood lust during the festival, they ran away and spoke with Tommy. Y/N didn’t want to kill Schlatt but they saw in Pogtopia a chance to stop him. Make him see what he has done. Make him responsible for his actions.

Only this never came to pass. Schlatt died inside a dirty van. A heart attack or a stroke. Y/N didn’t know, nor did they care. He was dead either way.

While everyone was rebuilding and trying to fall back into a normal day to day life. Y/N was lost. They didn’t feel particularly close to anyone nor did the other seem to trust them. Their eyes were always drawn towards Y/N’s horns resting on their head.

During Schlatt’s rule they became somewhat of a symbol. A symbol for himself, for pain, for blood, for tyranny. So when Y/N walked around town the others couldn’t help but stare at these oh so similar horns that reminded them of a past best forgotten.

It made Y/N unsure of themself. It was a physical proof of their connection to their father. It was a double edged sword. In the past they loved that they inherited similar Hybrid traits like their father but now it was the reason why everyone seemed to avoid them.

The people wanted to move on but these damn horns pulled them back whenever their eyes fell on them. Y/N wasn’t stupid. They noticed this pretty fast.

Hell, if anything the funeral was the best proof for that. Bad tried his best to keep everyone under control and have a proper funeral but everyone was too busy celebrating. Talking about stealing his bones. Destroying a picture of him.

All while Y/N sat in the back. They had hoped they could use this funeral as a way to finally say goodbye, let go off the pain and regret but all this chaos just made them realize that the people will never properly accept them due to their relation with Schlatt.

Schlatt may have put all of the people through a horrible and unforgivable time but he effectively snuffed out any chance for Y/N to live a normal life between these people. This legacy of his for Y/N stung almost deeper than all the time he insulted them or flat out ignored them. It made them wonder if he ever realized what he did to his own child. Even if he did Y/N wasn’t sure he cared enough to do anything about it.

Y/N wrung their hands as they stood in front of Niki’s and Puffy’s flower shop. The money ready in their hands so this transaction could happen faster but even so they were too nervous to step in.

After some mental pep talk they finally slowly pushed the wooden door open. To their horror it begun creaking which made them wince. There was no way Niki hasn’t noticed them walking in seeing how she stood at the counter but still Y/N didn’t want to put more attention on themself than they absolutely had to.

“Oh.” Was all Niki said. She almost sounded disappointed. Y/N realized that she probably would have happily greeted anyone else coming into the shop but them.

Their eyes were glued to the ground. As they suddenly became overly aware of their horns, it felt like their weight increased immensely. Almost as if they tried to press down on Y/N. It made them feel as small and worthless as possible under the gaze of other people.

Y/N put the money on the counter as soon as they reached it “A full bouquet of purple hyacinth, please.”

“Alright.” Niki immediately moved away in order to make the bouquet ready. Though Y/N didn’t watch, they were now staring at the wood of the counter. Following he natural lines of it with their eyes as they patiently waited.

After a few minutes Niki placed the flowers in front of Y/N which pulled them out of their thoughts and made them look up. Niki forced a smile on but she still looked almost stern. Soft crevices building up as her eyebrows formed a painful frown.

“This is too much.” Niki begun pushing some of the money back towards Y/N but they shook their head.

“It’s a tip.”

Picking the flowers up into their arms they tried to put on a genuine smile before turning around to walk out of the shop.

Before they exited the shop they could hear Niki say a soft “Thanks.”

That was basically how every conversation with anyone went. Only short and the most necessary words. At first Y/N tried to start genuine conversation but they soon noticed how the others wouldn’t react. Just trying to get as fast as possible through this conversation. Their eyes always directed on Y/N’s horns.

After Y/N placed the flowers in front of Schlatt’s grave, like they did every week, they made their way towards the river.

Sometimes they would spend their time there since it’s a bit farther away from the city, so it was rare to see someone else hanging out there. Y/N mostly used this place to fish in peace. If they fished anywhere near the others their stares and frowns weighed too heavy down on them.

As they sat at the bank of the river, preparing their fishing line, their eyes fell unto their own reflection.

Dark circles adorned their eyes from their countless restless nights. Only falling asleep after hours of crying.

They couldn’t help but put the blame on their horns. Their god damn horns. Y/N hated them. Hated them so much. What would their life be like without them? Would the others still eye them so incredibly cautiously? Would they give Y/N a chance? After all Y/N was vocal about the fact that they didn’t support any of Schlatt’s decisions. For the longest time they tried to help the others through the hard times!

Yet, now as he was dead, they only showed Y/N the cold shoulder. If it wasn’t Y/N themself then the reason has to entirely lay on the horns. It was a too strong reminder of Schlatt.

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips. Tears now falling down their cheeks onto the green grass. No one was around so they didn’t mind crying loudly like this.

It was just so unfair. They did everything they could and yet all they reaped was disdain from the people and in a sick twist Y/N couldn’t even fault them for it. Whenever they saw their own reflection, their own eyes would be drawn to their dark horns after all.

Back in the day they were always happy looking at them but now they were the reason for Y/N being abandoned by everyone. They used to be somewhat good friends with Quackity due to his position as Schlatt’s Vice President and even he ignored them as soon as Schlatt was dead.

They had no one and at fault were these stupid, ugly horns.

Y/N let the fishing rod fall to the ground as they continued staring at their reflection. Trembling as they sobbed. Feeling so lonely with no way out.

What could they do? Put on a hat? There is no hat big enough to hide their horns. No, the horns had to go. There was no other way.

Shakily their hand snaked through the grass towards the water. Slowly submerging it into the ice cold liquid as the hand continued searching for something. As their hand landed on a stone that fit perfectly in their palm they held it in front of their face. Inspecting it.

As if to test it they softly tapped the stone against the tip of their horn. Their head moving with it. It felt weird. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it was still a weird feeling as the soft vibration traveled through it.

Letting out a shaky breath they reached back with their arm. The stone in an iron grip.

They hated this.

They hated everything about this but what could they possibly do? What could they do to get a proper chance at a normal conversation with Niki while buying flowers? A proper chance to talk with Quackity again, the man who was right there with them as all the bullshit happened.

All they wanted was a real chance to connect with people.

Y/N let out a sobbing scream as the stone collided with their horn, ripping off a good part of the tip.

It softly splashed into the water. Getting stuck between rocks, slowly rocking with the water stream.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” They stammered between sobs as they once again pulled their arm back in order to strike the horn again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Their arm and hand hurt from constantly colliding with the hard material. A huge headache was now spreading through their head as they were sitting between broken pieces of what used to make up their horn.

But they weren’t done yet. The other side had to go as well.

With every new blow their whimpers would increase as well. At first a result of their hopelessness but it soon turned into an expression of pain. But they couldn’t give up. They had to keep going.

They had to get rid off this legacy Schlatt left them with.

After a particularly harsh blow they suddenly felt something warm slide down the side of their head.

Letting the stone fall down onto the ground they frantically stared at their own reflection in the water. It was blood.

Shocked they let out a shaky laugh. As much as it hurt and was horrible to look at, there weren’t any rest pieces of the horn resting on their head. So they picked the rock back up and with a blood curdling scream they slammed it into the other horn again, trying to get rid of the rest properly.

And it worked.

They were light headed from the pain, bleeding and crying but the horns were gone.

They were finally free of the curse.

“Finally.” They mumbled to themself only to finally take the time to rest and cry. They cried their god damn heart out. It was as if all the stress from the last couple of months finally jumped off their back.

Y/N’s back hit the soft ground as they slammed back, staring at the leaves up above them. Dancing with the wind and only occasionally giving away to the sun that was shining down on them.

Dark red blood staining the green grass. Their eyes growing heavier the more they continued to cry and hyperventilate. This pain is nothing. From this point on everything has to get better. It has to.

There was an audible gasp.

It wasn’t Y/N but they were too tired to look where it came from.

“Y/N? What the hell did you do? What happened? By Ender you are bleeding!” it was a male voice. Quackity? They weren’t too sure. Too delirious to tell.

Strong hands fell on their arms and pushed them up in a sitting position. Their head rolled back and they finally looked into Quackity’s pale face. So, they were right after all.

One of his arms went around their back in order to hold the crying Y/N upright as he took a better look at the wounds.

“I have to get you to someone who knows how to make healing pots. Maybe regeneration? Hell if I know. Did you do this? Your hands are covered in blood.” He was frantic.

Y/N shakily moved their hands up in order to grab Quackity’s hand that was holding their head in place and pushed it away from them, smearing his hand with their own blood “Don’t worry. I freed myself. The horns are gone. Now, you guys don’t have to be reminded of him anymore. We can all finally live in peace. No more reminders to him.”

Quackity’s eyes widened. His mouth opened up in an expression of pure shock. He hated that he could tell immediately what they meant exactly. After the war he did avoid them as much as he could. As Y/N said they, or rather their horns, reminded him too much of Schlatt and he needed time to heal but he never imagined this could lead to this.

He felt incredibly guilty. Realizing that he never really thought about what everyone’s behavior did to Y/N.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll find a way to help you.” His arm went under Y/N’s legs and with some straining he managed to get back up, holding them in his arms. Y/N leaned their head against Quackity’s chest, staining it with their blood in the process.

“See. It’s already working.” They whispered just before passing out.

“Fuck.” Quackity had to find someone who knew how to heal them as soon as possible. Jogging back into the city calling frantically out for help.

[gyusbambi]

humph; han seojun (pt 2)

 click here for humph masterlist!

part 1, part 3

story: frenemies to enemies to lovers, high school au

synopsis: seojun and you have known each other since kindergarten. you’re neighbors and even attended the same singing and piano classes. despite knowing each other for such a long time, you don’t enjoy spending time with seojun. even though you are aware of his unfairness, you keep spending time with him. when will you finally leave your childhood frenemy?

note: juyeong is reader’s brother and is not related to the lims, jugyeong doesn’t exist in this story. humph! is a story inspired by pentagon's "humph! / 접근금지". originally, this is a seungyeon fanfiction, which i posted on my wattpad. words: 4k

after the encounter, you try your best to avoid han seojun. everytime you spot him walking in the hallways, your feet start moving faster. every so often you won’t allow yourself to put all of your books into your locker and end up carrying the heavy things during the whole day. why does his locker have to be next to yours anyway?

seojun might be academically not the best, but he sure isn’t dumb.

clearly, he notices how you turn around and walk into a complete different classroom whenever he makes an appearance in the same hallway. he also notices how you always walk around with piles of books, never taking the chance to place them into your locker, since his own happens to be next to yours.

one day he spots lee suho helping you with carrying your books. smiling, you thank your friend and hand him over some of them. while heading towards the classroom together, you talk about the upcoming school trip. unfortunately, you’re not quite able to see what’s in front of you since the pile of books cover your sight slightly. yet, as seojun walks past suho, his shoulder hits suho’s which makes the books fall out of his hands with a loud thud. 

quickly, you help suho collect the books on the floor and don’t fail to notice him muttering,

“what’s his problem?” 

_

it’s an entertaining thursday evening as you spend time in the karaoke bar with your classmates. kang soojin, who happens to be suho’s childhood friend, asked you and suho to tag along with them. first, lee suho declined the kind offer but you luckily managed to convince him. 

the noraebang is filled with laughter when taehoon, sua’s boyfriend, sings his lungs out to his favorite song. after your eyes wander from the couple too soojin and then too suho, a smile forms on your face. taehoon’s arm is around suho’s shoulder as they both sing a ballad. you’re happy that suho opens up to others more and you enjoy being able to spend time with these four, feeling like you’re making new friends.

however, it feels a little strange that seojun and chorong aren’t around. you remember how you would go to the karaoke bar every saturday, sometimes it was only seojun and you. secretly, you adored listening to his voice.

suddenly, the notification sound of your phone wakes you up from your short trance. 

juyeong: why is seojun hyung’s bike in front of our house?

it’s a message from your younger brother. why hasn’t seojun picked up his bike yet?

while the others continue singing, you excuse yourself and walk outside in order to call your younger brother. patiently, you walk back and forth, waiting for him to answer the call. you sigh when he doesn’t pick up and are about to dial his number again.

before you can do so, you jump and let out a yelp at a familiar voice,

“y/n?”

it’s han seojun.

frightened you turn around, palm pressed to your heart.

“you scared me!” closing your eyes, you let out a relieved breath.

“you’re here too?” seojun ignores your shocked reaction.

“yes.”

“with whom?”

taken aback, you stay silent for a short moment, not knowing how to respond. clearly, you’re aware that seojun, for some reason, isn’t on good terms with suho. therefore, you wouldn’t want him to start a conflict with the innocent boy right here, at the karaoke bar.

“uh, i’m here with soojin a-”

abruptly you trail off when you spot lee suho himself at the entrance, searching for you while his glance shifts through the place. luckily, seojun’s back is facing the entrance. the boy in front of you waits for you to continue but is caught off guard when you pull him around the corner, before suho can find you.

“what are you doing?” seojun questions with lines forming between his brows.

nervously, you try to come up with an excuse while avoiding his gaze, checking behind his back if suho saw you, 

“your motorcycle-”

“look who we have over here! seojunnie!”

at the sound of lee sungyong and his gang you stop talking and observe an annoyed expression appear on seojun’s face.

when you turn around to face them, they let out surprised laughs,

“y/n, long time no see!”

“why do you have to here.” seojun groan.

soon, you sense that something bad could happen any moment which makes you dart your glance around the area nervously, looking for a possible way out. timidly, you draw your mouth into a straight line before your fingers firmly grip around seojun’s, pulling him away from the others without thinking twice. the young boy seems shocked by your actions as his legs adjust to your pace.

in no time, you find yourself running away from lee sungyong and his gang, your hand still clutched on seojun’s wrist. adrenaline courses through your veins as you pass several stores, pushing people out of your way. to the sound of lee sungyong shouting your names, you keep your breath steady, push harder and run even faster. 

seojun himself forces his legs to push harder, his lungs straining. his breath thickening, he steals a quick glance at you. the wind whips your hair away from your face as you face forwards with an uneasy look. his mind is frantic with thoughts: how is it possible to move this fast?

yet, at this great speed, you can barely see a few feet ahead of you. your feet nearly slip from beneath you when your shoes pound heavily across the ground and mud splashes up your leg. 

noticing this, seojun rapidly takes your hand into his own without slowing down and takes the lead. since the boy is familiar with this dark area, he sprints around the next corner. the shoutings behind you don’t stop, demanding you to stop running. after sprinting for solid minutes, you finally hide behind a wall when seojun finds a way to trick the gangsters.

heart pounding faster than ever, you’re still concerned that they will find you. seojun squats down next to you, his legs tired from all the running. when your surroundings are safe, you swiftly stand up while your breath comes in short gasps. 

claiming you’re tired would be an understatement. you are exhausted. still you feel relieved that you could escape the group of boys.

moments later seojun sighs with annoyance behind you. 

“why did you have to drag me away?” the boy complains before you turn around to face him with a frown on your face.

it’s dark and quiet outside, indicating that it’s probably really late. the air is cold which makes you shiver for a moment. when you wait for him to continue instead of answering, seojun groans, not believing that you seriously don’t understand what he’s trying to point out.

“they’ll think it’s weird of us to run away like cowards. ah, you’re really dumb.”

“i’m dumb?”, you raise your voice with squinted eyes before he can leave,

“you’re the one who believes fish are wet.”

“fish are wet.” the boy slowly turns around to face you again.

“they’re not because they’re surrounded by water. once they get out of-”

“it’s water, y/n!”

it’s not worth arguing with someone as dumb as him.

with a mirthless smile you shake your head,

“you’re the dumb one.”

after that you leave to make your way home, completely forgetting to ask seojun about his motorcycle. the boy himself watches you walk away with a little worry. shouldn’t he walk you home at this time? ah, never mind. 

and so he walks home by himself, not used to the fact that his motorcycle is away from him.

_

the next day in school seems like a regular one. fortunately, you were able to get enough sleep this time. thankfully, seojun’s motorcycle was no longer parked in front of your house this morning. not expecting anything spectacular to happen, you enter the classroom with several books in your arms, like always. however, as soon as some of your classmates notice you, they walk to your seat with widen eyes.

“y/n! where were you last night?”, soojin asks you with a calm tone.

sua hits your shoulder playfully and whines, “do you know how worried we were?!”

oh, no. you completely forgot to contact them after your small adventure with han seojun.

“poor suho looked everywhere for you.”, taehoon pouts, his glance darting to suho, who was sitting on his seat peacefully.

after hearing taehoon’s words, you turn your head to the innocent boy with regret written on your face,

“i’m so sorry.”

“don’t worry, y/n. we’re glad you’re okay.” suho smiles at you as the others agree.

the day passes normally, like you predicted, until lunch break. 

considering kim chorong is nowhere to be seen, and you’re trying to stay away from han seojun, you sit next to you other friends during lunch. the same people from the karaoke bar talk about their plans after school, when suddenly everyone looks up to the sight of han seojun’s. his loud steps and irritated expression catches all the attention in the canteen.

however, you feel concerned when you’re approached by him, your heart beating a little faster.

“yah, y/l/n y/n.” 

you gulp when he carefully talks in a controlled voice, glaring at you through his cat like eyes,

“come out.”

the whole lunch room gasps with surprise at his statement, anticipating on what will happen next. just when he grabs your arm to drag you out of the room, lee suho steps between you both, slapping seojun’s grip away from your arm,

“what do you think you’re doing?”, he speaks with a low voice.

“you better stay out of this.”

han seojun hisses and holds on your uniform this time, pulling you away from the others.

your head is filled with endless questions when you’re forced to follow him out. what have you done wrong? the corridor is empty and silent as the boy in front of you pounds his hand on the wall behind you, leaving only a small gap between your faces. your back is pressed against the cold wall. 

blown away by the sudden closeness you swallow dryly, unable to wet your parched throat. his sudden change in mood slightly intimates you.

“you think you can piss me off easily?”

you’re taken aback when he snaps.

“wh-what are you talking about?” nervously, you stammer while excessively blinking.

after that, seojun laughs with edge, eyes leaving yours for a moment to remain his calm. why are you pretending to not know? seconds later he bends down to your height, now even closer than before. eyes looking deeply into yours, he tries to read you. yet, the only thing he’s able to see is your confusion.

“do you believe giving my keys to that bastard is funny?”

“i have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

luckily, the worry in you melts down a little but you’re still confused.

“you’re really starting to get on my nerves now. this morning lee sungyong came to me with these, and my damaged bike.”

frustrated, seojun takes his keys out of his jacket-pocket and holds them up for you too see. a line forms between your brows when you stare at the keys, waiting for him to continue,

“and what do i have to do with that?”

“are you kidding me?! you’re the person who had my keys the whole time!” seojun hisses, his voice raising which causes you to flinch lightly,

“my bike was parked in front of your house, remember? you gave my keys to that bastard!”

“i didn’t have your keys!” finally you defend yourself, slowly getting annoyed by his behavior.

“you did, i gave them to you last week!”

seojun’s face is still insanely close to yours.

“you did, but i gave them back to you.” you look into his eyes with confusion.

“what?” seojun’s expression reflects your own.

“i-i put them into your pocket. didn’t you notice?”

oh no. he absolutely didn’t.

“when did you do that?”

“the day after you gave them to me. i thought you would notice.” you mumble the last part quietly, suddenly feeling like it’s your fault.

precisely, you remember how you put seojun’s keys back in his jacket, which was hanging on his seat when he wasn’t around. taking the opportunity, you decided to quickly put them in there without having to face seojun for it, since you weren’t on good terms. 

all this time you wondered why the boy wouldn’t pick up his bike. it was standing there whole time, which made you believe that maybe he truly wanted to quit riding his motorcycle.

however, it turns out that he never noticed. how did the others find his keys, though? was it your fault? perhaps you should have simply handed them to him personally instead of being stubborn.

seojun sighs with frustration and runs his hand through his hair,

“how did they get them then?”

suddenly it all clicks. everything makes sense when you remember every detail from last night. with unease your eyes widen,

“the jacket you wore last night... it was the navy one, right?”

he thinks for a moment before nodding, waiting for you to continue.

“i put the keys in that one. maybe it slipped out while we were running?”

you glance around, not focusing on anything as you try to avoid his eyes. this doesn’t feel good at all.

a momentary look of discomfort crosses seojun’s face. he realizes that you’re possibly right and that he shouldn’t have accused you to do something like that. the fact that he already messed up by telling suho to stay away from you makes everything even worse. he feels guilty when he catches you looking around nervously. it’s not your fault.

right when he’s about to form words, two students run past him which causes him to stumble over his feet in shock. on the spur of the moment, his body is pressed on yours. at the sudden contact, you let out a small gasp when you notice that you’re stuck between him and the wall. one of his palms is still pressed against the wall behind you, while the other one holds on your shoulder to steady himself.

both of you look up at the same time, embarrassed by his sudden actions. when your eyes meet, your heart pounds against your ribs as if trying to reach thousand beats. it’s so intense that you internally pray for him not to hear it. his face is only a few centimetres away from yours which makes you freeze on spot. somehow you feel his breath on your cheek and you think you’re about to lose it. 

why are you so nervous suddenly?

why does his gaze make your heart beat so fast?

carefully, you study seojun’s face. his dark hair partly falls over his forehead, his eyes now relaxed, cheeks tinted a bright shade of pink.

in fact, seojun is blushing profusely. just like you, he’s taken aback by the closeness and can’t help but gaze into your eyes deeply. he too, feels strangely nervous, a little too nervous if truth be told.

after what seems like seconds, you can’t stand it anymore and forcefully hit his forehead with your head, which makes him stumble backwards.

probing the pained area, seojun winces, “what the hell?!”

“i-i told you i didn’t give them your keys!”, you decide to come up with that instead of showing how the boy effected you so easily,

“you always put the blame on me.” after mumbling that you rush back to the canteen in super speed, hoping for your poor heart to calm down.

seojun only watches you sprint away, unaware of how he made you feel. rubbing his forehead painfully, he shakes his head in order to get rid of his thoughts.

there’s no way. i should probably just see a doctor.

_

time passes quickly and finally the important day has come: the school trip. everyone from your grade was talking about the upcoming event the whole time, planing several games and activities. for you it seems nice too but since you’re avoiding seojun, which also automatically makes it harder to see chorong, you worry how you’re going to spend the whole time on your own. it’s a bummer that lee suho refused to join the trip. certainly, you attempted to convince your friend but unsuccessful. 

as soon as you arrive at the school gates, where everyone is already waiting with their suitcases, you feel uneasy. nearing the others, you concern about the fact that you’ll probably have to sit alone in the bus. yet, when you finally approach the others you spot suho standing next to soojin, sua and taehoon. instantly, a smile appears on your face and you greet them, adding that you’re happy for suho to join them. glancing around, it doesn’t take you long to see han seojun next to kim chorong. without looking at them for too long, you focus back on your other friend group with little uncertainty. 

one by one, students enter the bus after putting their suitcases into the bus trunk. for some reason you happen to be the last person to enter the bus. after putting your luggage into the trunk, you’re ready to go inside. yet, out of nowhere chorong appears in front of you with puppy eyes, begging for you to pack his snacks into your backpack, since his own is already full. not thinking about it too much, you agree and start placing them into your bag. chorong smiles with satisfaction and thanks you before his eyes check behind him. he winks at sua and gives her a sign after making sure you’re not paying attention to him.

sua then pushes her boyfriend and soojin inside when nobody is left, leaving chorong and you alone. eventually you manage to push in all the snacks into your bag. you’re surprised when you see that everyone is already in the bus and follow chorong inside as well. 

as soon as you enter, suho finds your eyes and waves at you, indicating that he saved you a seat next to him. happily, you nod and wait for the others in front of you to take their seats. 

you fail to notice chorong’s eyes widen when he stops in front of you, not allowing you to sit next to lee suho. sua understands the situation and slightly pushes kang soojin towards the empty seat next to suho. 

oh, well.

both of your friends exchange surprised looks. however, seconds later soojin smiles at the boy next to him, starting a conversation.

as a matter of fact, you feel upset. disappointed, you move on, eyes not leaving chorong’s back. who are you going to sit next to now? 

when the boy in front eventually arrives at the very back, you’re concerned. surprisingly, kim chorong takes the seat behind han seojun, leaving the last seat, which was next to seojun, for you.

han seojun doesn’t bother looking up, as he’s focused on his phone. clearing your throat, you request,

“chorong-ah, change seats with me.” 

“nah, i like this seat.” stubbornly, he crosses his arms across his chest, head leaning against the window with closed eyes.

the short conversation catches seojun’s attention and he looks up with curiosity. after taking a look at the filled seats his eyes land and you. he’s surprised when he notices that you have to take seat next to him.

letting out a quiet sigh, you give chorong one last glare before sitting next to seojun. this is either going to be really awkward or provoking.

of course, once again you don’t notice chorong peeking at the both of you before giving sua and taehoon a thumbs up, content that their plan worked successfully.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” taehoon whispers to his girlfriend,

“they look like they’ll throw hands at each other any moment.”

“ ah, don’t worry. they’ll make up sooner than you think.” sua takes a quick glimpse of you plugging in your earpods without exchanging any words with the boy next to you.

but sua was wrong.

half an hour already passes and you still haven’t spoken any word. although, there‘s a small desire of talking to you in seojun, he can‘t make himself form the right words. 

right when chorong is about to lose hope and fall asleep, something finally happens.

feeling tired from all the packing last night, you sense your eyelids getting heavier and you’re struggling to keep them open. nonetheless, you’re no longer able to do so and you fall asleep instantly.

out of the blue seojun feels your head resting on his shoulder. the boy is dumbstruck when his eyes widen, holding in his breath for a moment. his body shuts down and he doesn’t know how to react when his posture stiffens. besides that, he feels the skin on his shoulder tingle. 

seojun almost curses under his breath when his heart races once again. this time, there’s a fluttering in his stomach as well, causing him to go speechless. from the corner of his eye, he observes your expression. a slight frown forms on your face, hair covering parts of it, lips in a small pout. 

no matter what you do, you look so effortlessly... good. it doesn’t make a difference to him if you’re annoyed, confused, happy or simply tired. he always notices himself looking at you the same way, with adoring eyes. attempting to ignore it, he chose to tease you, not daring to ever show you. 

he knew he went to far and feels stupid for his actions. yet, why doesn’t he just apologize? perhaps he doesn’t want to accept the fact that you mean much more to him. perhaps he’s afraid he’ll never mean more to you.

still asleep, you unknowingly move your head closer to seojun’s chest, feeling more comfortable this way. after that, he feels your arm wrap around his torso, almost snuggling him.

the boy’s heart melts at the sight of you. although his heart feels like exploding, he doesn’t want to admit that he kinda enjoys the skin-ship with his you. right when he’s about to run his hand through your hair, the sound of a camera catches his attention.

he looks up to find sua taking a polaroid picture, chorong awing at the sight of his two friends sharing a moment.

“aw, you guys are so cute!” sua jumps up and down, while handing seojun the polaroid picture.

suddenly seojun gets aware of his surroundings and the situation he finds himself in. he blinks a few times before moving his shoulder purposely while coughing, making your head fall down in a swift move.

before it hits his lap, you open your eyes and rub them with a displeased expression,

“what happened?”, you ask with a low voice, completely clueless. 

“why- why do you fall asleep on my shoulder? that’s so uncomfortable. get a pillow or something!”

seojun stammers in the beginning, eyes not able to meet your tired ones. your friends sigh with annoyance and return to their seats, disappointed by seojun’s change in mood.

“sorry.” after rubbing your eyes, you steal a short glance at seojun. you’re slightly embarrassed and fix your hair while sitting up properly.

the boy only shrugs, quickly hiding the polaroid in the pocket inside of his jacket before you can see it.

seemingly, this trip is not going to be easy for han seojun.

little does he know, this was only the beginning of cupid chorong’s plan.

_

to be continued...

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!