#breezy feels some type of way

[flameswallower]

THE BEST FICTION I ENCOUNTERED IN THE SECOND HALF OF 2024!!!

A much longer follow-up to this post. (Can you imagine how much I'd need to type out if I hadn't split them up???)

Once again, I'm not listing movies, TV shows, video games, etc. I AM listing some web fiction and comics/graphic novels, because I feel much more qualified to judge and recommend those things.

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Novels and Novellas!

Failure To Comply, by Cavar (2024): Reading Cavar’s Failure to Comply, I couldn’t help but think of the recent David Cronenberg movie Crimes of the Future. Both deal with dystopias in which bodies and their modification are strictly regulated, and people with unauthorized bodies form a vibrant, perpetually imperiled subculture on the margins. Both use this conceit to speak metaphorically about the plights of trans and disabled people, although Failure to Comply’s characters are also presented as literally, textually disabled and trans. But, although Crimes of the Future is often accused of being a “weird movie,” Failure to Comply is undeniably much, much weirder. Cronenberg is super normal compared to this.

Maej, by Dale Stromberg (2024): a doorstopper I found difficult to put down and finished inside a week; a work of very unapologetic genre fiction that’s equally unapologetic in its intelligence and dedication to doing strange, creative things with language; a high fantasy story I actually liked. The setting is the city of Sforre-Yomn, in the country of Hwoama, whose culture combines elements from across the continents of Asia and Europe. But Hwoama is matriarchal: men are subordinate to women, who dominate politics, business, the military, and nearly all other professions. As a result of this fact, almost all the major characters in the novel are female. By turns this presents a fun, simple, mischievous inversion of maleness as the unmarked default state for fictional characters, and meaty commentary on the social construction of sex, sexuality, and gender. Stromberg has cited Le Guin as an influence on Maej and, in the most complimentary way possible, this influence is evident.

Lote, by Shola von Reinhold (2020) is a gorgeous, funny, moving academic satire/mystery and love letter to Black modernism. It’s also very queer/trans and (in my personal opinion, perhaps not intentionally) very autistic. The title refers to a possibly-mythical clandestine circle of artists/magic practitioners who style themselves after the lotus eaters and seek transcendence via experiences of sensory and aesthetic pleasure. As with many novels that stand out to me, you won’t read anything else like it. I especially recommend this one if you want a completely unique, intellectually stimulating work of fiction, but are put off by the aggressively experimental and opaque style of Failure To Comply and by the SFF-ness of FTC, Maej, and Leech.

Walking Practice, by Dolki Min (trans. Victoria Caudle) (original 2022; English translation 2024) is a breezy, sexy *, gender-bending Korean novel about a poor amorphous space alien stranded on Earth after a spaceship crash. Unfortunately for us, this alien soon discovers that 1.) the most suitable food for it down here is human flesh, and 2.) with a lot of pain and effort, it can squeeze itself into the likeness of a variety of different human beings. It figures out hookup apps pretty fast, too, and then it’s off to the races. This may sound like creature horror, but it plays more as an exploration of identity and humanity, and a satire of sex, romance, and contemporary hookup culture. (*possibly less sexy if you don’t have a vore/cannibalism/consumption thing)

Love/Aggression, by June Martin (2024) is a BANANAS mundane fantasy-comedy about two trans women who are kind of best friends, and kind of enemies. Zoe (actress) is an arrogant, cartoonishly unpleasant minor celebrity who thinks she’s much more famous and popular than she actually is— but Martin manages to show how her personality is in part the sympathetic result of dysphoria and experiencing a lot of transmisogyny over the course of her life, and how she used to be a much kinder person before fame went to her head. Meanwhile, Lily (freeloader and aspiring tattoo artist) is a sweet, spacy, passive daydreamer, and a far more immediately likable character— but Martin manages to show how she is not entirely blameless in the ongoing drama with Zoe, how her passivity is sometimes the result of immaturity and selfishness, and how even when it isn’t, it’s a character flaw that keeps landing her in situations which kind of suck for all parties involved. They live in a magical Pittsburgh that is, conveniently, located right next to Los Angeles. Their friends include a BDSM cult leader and a nonbinary person whose name becomes “Dicks” in the first chapter of the story and who is never called anything else. (This character also happens to be the…owner? Custodian?…of an infinite, maze-like, reality-distorting building that is probably the most fun and least scary infinite, maze-like, reality-distorting building in all of fiction.) There’s vore in this one, too! But don’t go in expecting a particularly cohesive plot: Love/Aggression is far more about characters, relationships, and gags.

Maybe the Moon, by Armistead Maupin (1992) was inspired by the too-brief life of Maupin’s real friend Tamara De Treaux, a little person who depicted the title character in parts of the movie E.T. Her literary equivalent, Cady Roth, is a sardonic, fashionable, thirty-year-old little person who depicted a magical gnome called Mr. Woods in a beloved, albeit treacly, children’s fantasy movie of the same name. But since she played the role inside a thick rubber suit, and since the director of the movie felt it would spoil the magic to give her any credit, almost nobody knows that. Ten years later, she lives in obscurity on dwindling funds and struggles to find work…until, out of sheer desperation, she decides to take a job with a troupe of children’s birthday party entertainers. Romance, escapades, etc. ensue. Both a very funny book and a very sad one; it’s quite frank about death, about the ways Hollywood fucks people over, about the many ways that, especially if you’re marginalized and/or an artist, your life isn’t fair and isn’t ever going to be fair and “happy endings” probably aren’t what the world has in store for you. I think ultimately it’s sentimental in a good way; it has a big heart.

Leech, by Hiron Ennes (2022) is a total banger to finish out this year with! So glad I picked it up finally! Absolute genre jambalaya, this one: sci-fi, stuff that reads as fantasy despite having or probably having a “sci-fi” explanation, horror, Gothic novel (but not, crucially, a Gothic romance), mystery, medical thriller, character study, philosophical novel about ideas of consciousness, selfhood, individuality, and free will…there’s probably something in here for everyone reading this. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love the Gormenghast books. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love any Star Trek series. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love the science fiction of Peter Watts, or the horror of Gretchen Felker-Martin. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love The Thing (1982). The prose is lush, idiosyncratic, a bit purple, but it’s nothing too baroque, it’s all perfectly easy to read. The complicated, antiheroic protagonist/narrator is delightful and memorable, and I think Ennes did a great job at conveying unusual states of memory/selfhood/cognition through it/them/her. (Some of these states are not ones with which I have, or even could possibly have ever had, real experience, but some are, and I am always pleased to find those replicated in ways I can recognize and feel as “truthful.”)

Short Story Collections!

Stone Gods (2024) and Worse Than Myself (2009) by Adam Golaski contained several of the very best short stories I read this year— especially Worse Than Myself, which is also a slightly more accessible/“normal” story collection and the one I’d recommend starting with. Golaski writes eerie, dreamlike, bizarre fiction that frequently crosses over into horror— even including time-worn horror genre tropes like zombies, ghosts, and vampires. But let me tell you, Golaski’s “The Man From the Peak” (in Worse Than Myself) is a BAD time, like give-you-nightmares scary, and it feels like nothing you’ve ever read before, even though it’s about A Nosferatu. Not just a vampire, but a vampire that is explicitly described as egg-bald with big pointy ears and two sharp buck teeth. That’s the antagonist. And it fucking works. He makes it new. Please, please read Adam Golaski, you guys. It is astounding and unjust that he’s not popularly regarded as one of the 21st century’s best authors of weird short fiction. I don’t actually know if he could have/wanted to publish more than two collections over fifteen years, but I kind of feel like maybe if a lot of people and public libraries buy those two collections, he’ll have more space and incentive to write short stories, and/or more publishers will be interested in picking up another collection of his short stories?

Brave New Weird vol. 2 (2024) was a diverse, entertaining selection of stories. Some I’d read, some I hadn’t. A pretty good overview of the mostly small press horror/sci-fi/Weird fiction scene as it stands right this minute.

All Your Friends Are Here, by M. Shaw (2024) is almost the opposite of the Golaski collections, in a way: Golaski frequently deals with themes of nostalgia, the past, cycles that repeat without end, and timelessness or being outside of time. Moreover, most of his stories feel like they’d be immediately comprehensible to a person fifty years ago or fifty years from now, if not even further into the past/future (with, perhaps, a few footnotes of cultural explanation). But Shaw’s stories are, often aggressively, Of The Moment. And that’s not a bad thing, even if it means they may seem completely dated in a few decades. Shaw is interested in speaking directly to their place and time; directly to us. They’re not going to pretend we’re not all online, that we don’t all know (if against our will) what Ready Player One is— the longest piece in the collection, and one of the best, is a suitably pop-culture-reference-laden dunk/riff/spoof on, and rebuttal of, Ready Player One! These stories are angry and clever and sometimes suffused with a kind of exhausted tenderness. There’s clearly a Bizarro influence on some of Shaw’s work, but their writing is more sophisticated and restrained than what I tend to associate with Bizarro fiction proper.

Individual Short Stories (That You Can Read Right Now!)

“EGREGORE” by Samir Sirk Morató (2024) = clubbing, hallucinatory, girl on girl

“The Spindle Of Necessity” by B. Pladek (2024) = trans academic suspects dead author may have been a closeted gay trans man

“A History of the Avodion Through Five Artists” by Eric Horwitz (2024) = Borgesian, arch, Jewish

“Mad Studies” by Cavar (2024) = loneliness, cats, autism…like Failure To Comply, this is by @librarycards

“Alabama Circus Punk” by Thomas Ha (2024) = robots, the nuclear family, disintegrating language

Comics and Graphic Novels!

Tomorrow You Don't Know Me, by Raven Lyn Clemens (2024) is a subtle, moving, and unsentimental graphic novel about being a middle schooler with problems, and how sometimes those problems just kinda...persist no matter what you do or try or want, and no matter if it's fair. Even if you summon a demon to help you! Clemens is really skilled at depicting emotion visually, at communicating both the absurd goofiness and the deep, genuine pain of the outsize negative emotions her characters experience. All of her characters are at least a little wretched, and she also handles them all with great compassion, affection, and understanding. Check out her artwork at @ravenlynclemens please; it's fantastic cartooning even without any detailed narrative.

In Fair Verona, by Val Wise (2024) is a VERY gory, VERY nasty piece of lesbian Gothic fantasy horror-erotica. I love Wise's art. The bodies she draws, regardless of gender and build, are top-tier sexy and beautiful to me, which means he's often able to get me on board* with kinks and scenarios that would usually be too "extreme" for my taste. (*Genteel euphemism for arousal)

A Guest In the House, by E.M Carroll (2023) is an equally nasty and mean, but far, FAR less explicit and bizarre, lesbian Gothic horror story, told with the visual panache and inimitable art style everyone knows and loves Carroll for. It's a worthy successor to their previous material, and if it doesn't necessarily make enormous leaps from their earlier work in its writing, the drawing and coloring has gone from "already really good" to "some of these splash pages will blow your eyes out the back of your skull."

Expiry Date, by Sloane Hong (2024) is another lesbian/queer erotica comic. This one's science fiction, and is FAR more up my usual alley of kinks. Which is to say that the lovers are quite kind/polite with one another (in a lot of ways it reads as a meet-cute), but also one of them is a hired killer who dispassionately agrees to torture the fuck out of the other one David Cronenberg-style.

Once again, all my comic recs are by queer trans people! I think I made a pretty hacky joke last year about gay trans mascs specifically ruling in this field, but based on recent data, you just have to be a marginalized gender and not heterosexual to make amazing comics.

Web Fiction!

The Frenzy wiki is a fan wiki for an imagined TV series, telling the story of both Frenzy, a popular late 2000s ensemble cast drama-adventure-SFF show drawing equally from the likes of Twin Peaks and Supernatural, and how the existence of this show was mysteriously wiped from the face of our reality-- save in the troubled dreams of a select few. I would estimate it takes a couple hours to explore the whole wiki. (2022 or 2023?)

3D Workers Island is the phenomenal, if less ambitious, follow-up to Petscop. (I don't mean it's a sequel; it's just by the same guy and covers similar thematic ground.) Like its predecessor, it's more about dropping tantalizing hints than letting you in on "what's actually going on," and more about giving you a creeped out and vaguely depressed feeling than about scaring or shocking you per se. It's really smart and well-crafted in an understated way, and does a great job replicating early internet content. I would estimate it takes WELL under an hour to get through this story, although you will probably want to immediately go back and look for things you might have missed or not understood properly. (2024)

Martin's Movies is conventional, compared to the other two. It's a ghost story. But it's a very creepy, effective, well-told ghost story rendered through the unusual medium of letterboxd reviews (of course, these become increasingly diary-like and Not About The Film as the story progresses). I would estimate it takes under an hour to read the whole thing, it's like short novelette length. (2024)

[brujahinaskirt]

Okay, I obviously made the above post as a leetle joke, but since it's getting not insignificant traction, I do want to offer a more serious note.

I love this about Arthur. It's probably my favorite thing about him, but let me use this fresh new RDR2 meta post to clarify exactly what I mean. Despite the aspects of his personality & appearance that are traditionally hypermasculine, and despite how often he is annoyed with people (especially incompetents or people who meddle with his plans), Arthur is decidedly NOT annoyed by the social performance of femininity or by traits that are/were frequently stereotyped as feminine. Ever. Regardless of subject. I might go so far as to say he seems to canonically prefer hanging out with women and with "feminine" men.

Your long-winded, bullet-pointed analysis is below!

The Girls. Most noticeably, Arthur actually sits down to talk with and actively confides in the camp Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) more than anyone else around. These three are the most traditionally "girly" (single, 20s, active, pretty, unattached, highly social, feminine, chatty) members of the gang, though of course they are still criminals and don't perfectly adhere to all period-typical standards of feminine comportment. He doesn't mock the girls** like he sometimes does with other auxiliary members of the gang (like Uncle and Pearson, playful or not). Notably, he doesn't even gently tease Mary-Beth for writing her "silly" romance novels, a highly feminized hobby which she speaks about in a self-depreciating manner, much like Arthur speaks about his own artistic hobbies. Rather, he talks to her about writing like a peer and encourages her to write more by going out of his way to get her a nice pen. Crucially, there is no canon romantic or sexual interest in any of the girls on Arthur's behalf. He just feels the most comfortable in their company and seems to value their advice/opinions on life the most. To me, this is much stronger proof than his forever-burning torch for the cultured & ladylike Mary, which is (or was once) rooted in romantic desire. ** Unless the player persists in Antagonizing them, and these lines (while sometimes shockingly cruel and offhandedly sexual in nature; see Arthur teasing Tilly about pursuing Javier) are largely about goading them for laziness or, in Karen's case, her alcoholism. That said, many of the Antagonize lines strike me as clumsily tacked-on & poorly rooted in canon, which could indicate: (1) an Arthur who is deliberately trying to be disruptive (a generous interpretation), or (2) writers instructed to add throwaway content that will make a certain type of childishly misanthropic gamer (think 13 y.o. boys) squeal in glee with relatively low impact on the overall story.

Campmates. Following the above point... who doesn't Arthur hang out with much? The manly men of the gang; the very people social mores suggest he ought to be hanging out with. Bill, Micah, Joe, Cleet, and even Dutch. (To some extent, this includes John and Sean, but I'd say John sort of lives at the edges of gang life anyway, and Sean is, well, Sean.) Conversely, which male gang members does Arthur hang out with a lot? Sweet little bookish Lenny, a wordy, positive-energy, breezy intellectual who has just barely become an adult. Introspective, soft-voiced, long-haired Charles, who is traditionally masculine by some standards (strong, usually calm, can be standoffish) but decidedly NOT so when his appearance/demeanor is judged by the white Christian American male standards that began to dominate masculinity concepts in the later decades of the 1800s.

Algernon. Oh, my, Algernon. Arthur clearly dislikes Algernon's fancy, loud, outrageous clothing. But weirdly, he seems to like Algernon, not just tolerate him. Arthur in fact goes through significant personal discomfort to avoid hurting Algernon's feelings (the awful hat, the POST.MAN. sobbing), and he immediately says yes to having tea with him without any awareness of a coming business proposition, though half the time Arthur clearly has no fucking clue what Algernon is talking about. I am left to conclude that on some level, he just enjoys hearing Algernon talk, which is word-for-word what he says while listening to the Girls argue about romance novels ("I just like listening to you [all] talk." Hello????). I mean, for God's sake, he meets the man while he's choking to death on a nut at a fancy party, and the second thing Algernon does is tell him he looks like a guy who wears a corset. If anything was going to set off the boiling defensiveness of a dude who worships masculinity, thirty seconds with Algie would have done it.

Margaret, Mistress of Fucking Danger. It's pretty clear Arthur doesn't like Margaret. But that has little to do with Margaret's femininity & cross-dressing (this doesn't faze him at all when Charles Châtenay does it; more on that below) and everything to do with Margaret's deceptiveness and highly selective memory. It's not until the bullshittery unveils itself that Arthur starts getting visibly pissed off at Margaret. Conversely, Arthur does seem more positively disposed toward Sally Nash. (That said, this quest has a lot of problems and poorly aged lines that are depressingly easy for a politically motivated jerkoff to soundbite and miscast as Rockstar being pro-bigot. Cue 800 heterobnoxious gamerbro ARTHUR MORGAN ULTIMATE ANTI SNOWFLAKE SIGMA MALE OF THE WEST YouTube videos.)

Albert, my beloved. Rather than goading him to man up, Arthur tries to persuade Albert (whom he very obviously likes) to pick safer animal photography subjects, e.g. horses, and doesn't insult him for his lack of wilderness knowledge (an aspect of traditional manliness that is highly relevant to Arthur's lifestyle). You'd think he would tear into him for this shortcoming, given that they share so many of the same interests and passions, and IMO his genuine eagerness to serve as Albert's protector and facilitate his art is highly convincing evidence that Arthur does not necessarily view masculinity as a net positive.

Arthur is a basic goddamn boyfriend-hater. He pretty much harshly disapproves of every husband, boyfriend, male partner, etc. in the game and is very, very vocal about it... except one extremely unlikely candidate: Beau Gray. Weak, dandy artist Beau Gray, whom Arthur takes one look at and promptly hands the only gun to Penelope. Arthur is curt and impish to Beau at times, but helps him in his relationship troubles willingly (without collecting repayment), and seemingly for no other reason than the fact he can see that soft, fearful Beau is genuinely head-over-heels in love with Penelope. Is he projecting his own young love for Mary onto them? Maybe/probably, but Beau could not possibly be more different from young Arthur, and Arthur seems to believe this difference will make him a good husband for Penelope. A good husband, in Arthur's view, seems to simply be a man who ardently loves his beloved, regardless of his ability to provide for/protect her, and whose only goal in life is to live that life at her side. This is completely antithetical to mainstream late-1800s views on what constitutes a good husband and what it means to be a man.

Châtenay. Arthur shows us some of the most obvious delight and mirth he experiences in the game when he's hanging out with Charles "Allo Boys" Châtenay, who is straight up in drag a third of that time. This baffles Arthur a little, but doesn't disgust or repel him. I've written about this mission elsewhere at greater length because it is one of my favorite disasters, but it's worth mentioning here too.

Trelawny. Arthur clearly enjoys Trelawny despite his grumbly claims to the contrary. Most of these "claims" are just Arthur's established way of affectionate teasing (he does much the same with Uncle and Pearson, both of whom he genuinely likes). His authentic gripes about Trelawny are all about a perceived flightiness/lack of loyalty to the gang, not about his flamboyance. And even these gripes are half-assed, in Arthur's usual way.

Bluegills & Daisy Chains. One of the most genuine moments of softness we have with Arthur in RDR2 is when he takes Little Jack out of the camp to go fishing. Arthur's usually a much truer version of himself when he doesn't have to play the Big Bad Gang Lieutenant role, but this moment of escape is especially important, and not just because Arthur reveals his fondness for children and his natural understanding of how to talk to them. I notice this: Arthur tries to gently teach Jack about fishing, and Jack is completely fucking uninterested. Jack prefers to make flower chains for his mommy. Arthur doesn't scold him for his drifting attention or his lack of attraction to masculine past-times; on the contrary, Arthur goes out of his way to encourage and protect Jack's natural sweetness and innocence. That's a wild stance for a murdering outlaw to have re: the "next generation" of his family. Hell, I've encountered far too many 21st century dads in my own family who flip their shit when their tiny sons prefer hanging out with women & partaking in "womanly" hobbies like art, cooking, and flowers rather than hunting and fishing.

"...and be a god damn man." This seems like classic masculine bluster on the surface, but what does this keynote line mean in the context in which Arthur says it? Well, it's complicated. This statement serves as (a) Arthur's goodbye to John, (b) Arthur's final call to action for John, and (c) Arthur's last wish for his brother's life. But it certainly does not mean standing and fighting or being tough; i.e., "dying like a man." In that moment, it means abandoning all masculine bluster and revenge fantasy, and running away: leaving violence and fighting and brotherhood and all that crap behind to simply be there (alive, present) for your wife and son.

The Best Women People. Who are the best people Arthur knows, by his own crystal-clear declaration? Abigail and Sadie. Sadie's a rough-and-tumble, super-violent gunslinger and Abigail's a stubborn thief & a former sex worker (in the time Arthur has known her), but they are also, critically, two wives: the most traditional feminine role for a woman of the time period (and indeed perhaps most of human history once the concept of "wife" subsumed that of "mother"). It's also important to note that Arthur doesn't truly give up on Dutch until Dutch abandons Abigail, which serves as Arthur's point of no return. The other men left in the gang at this point specifically note that she's "just a woman" and not worth going back for. Arthur is straight-up shocked by all of this; he obviously considers her among the most worthwhile and value-having members of the gang, and certainly one of the most core members of the gang. Without any hesitation or doubt, the instant it's clear Dutch is cutting Abigail loose, Arthur declares: "That's that, then."

tl;dr: Arthur unironically prefers hanging out with women and queens and I love that for them.

[lilystyles]

gingerbread at midnight.

part one of the sweetest thing series by @lilystyles

the sweetest thing masterlist & my main masterlist xxx

authors note did somebody say christmas fic szn??? if there is two things people know about me it is that i love christmas and i love harry styles. so here u go!

brief description during a chilly evening at the bakery, harry learns how to make gingerbread.

warnings! fluffy christmas baking including niall :) (4.3k words)

grumpy!roommate!journalist!H x sunshine!baker!roommate!reader

* * * * *

It was a snowy December evening and Harry finished work early for a change. Being a busy journalist who worked for one of the biggest media companies in the world, he never finished before the sun went down. Even before he’d been promoted to his high position now, and he was just some young fresh-faced Uni graduate assistant who rarely saw the light of day. Waking up early and finishing late. He was always running off much less sleep than your average person, and even when he was at home he was busily typing away on his laptop. But despite his strenuous hours and stressful workload, he loved his job a lot, and openly admitted he was a workaholic.

This was why he needed a roommate. He worried for his sweet girl while he was away during the evenings. 

At first, he couldn’t think of anything worse, he’d had roommates in Uni who literally made him want to pull his (gorgeous) hair out and swore to himself he’d never do anything like that again if he could avoid it. It wasn’t that his job didn’t pay well, in fact, he was very wealthy and he could’ve gotten a sitter for the days but it just didn’t seem practical to have a sitter every day for the rest of his life. And no, his sweet girl was not a partner to crawl into bed with during the evenings, or a child who needed his attention throughout the day. 

His sweet girl was his spotted Dalmatian named Peaches, who got lonely during the long nights he’d stay at the office. 

Y/n had been the perfect candidate for a roommate. Who he had met through a mutual friend Niall, they went to school together apparently and Niall worked with her now. He vouched that she was easy to live with. There had been a period of time when he had nowhere to go and Y/n let him live rent-free in her flat for a month until he could afford to get back on his feet. She was stupidly kind and generous, sometimes to a fault, but if you had the privilege of her friendship you were so lucky. When Niall explained to Harry what a good person she was Harry believed him. Niall had this great ability to see people’s true intentions, and when he looked at Y/n he saw a beacon of light coloured like spun gold.

Y/n worked for most of the week too, sometimes on weekends if they needed extra hands or she felt like going in, but her hours were flexible despite being a baker, which was unusual for her occupation. But she had a good group of workers who all loved their jobs even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying to work for her, which meant Y/n’s day-to-day life was pretty breezy. And during Harry’s hunt for roommates when Niall mentioned that this friend looking for an apartment with roommates happened to be a girl he was happy, because girls were usually clean and smelt good. Y/n very much smelt good and left a warm touch to the once cold large apartment. Quickly after she started living there, suddenly vases of flowers appeared everywhere, paintings were strung up on his grey walls, hand-knitted rugs found their way onto the couch, food was baking in his oven and Y/n’s contagious warmth filled every room. Harry had grown up with just his mum and sister and there was something he liked about having a feminine touch that made it feel homely. He liked how soft, caring, and gentle they were. Y/n was so sweet, whenever he had a bad day she made a tea and let him complain for however long he needed. And she and Peaches got on great, Y/n took her for long walks in the park near their flat and sometimes she even took Peaches into her work and the gorgeous pup would just sit in the front greeting customers.

The tires of Harry’s car rolled against the snow as he steadily drove through the busy middle of the city to the familiar route of Y/n’s bakery. She’d ran it for a couple of years now, having bought it fresh out of culinary school. It used to be a bookshop that was owned by a lady called Miss Green, now it was called ‘Sweets & Things’ and very successful with all the locals. Before they’d became roommates and he’d even known of her existence Harry remembers eating a particularly delicious danish pastry with blueberries in it, funny that a few years later his roommate made him fresh ones when he’d had a particularly rough day at work. 

During the Christmas season the little bakery picked up a lot more. Y/n found herself catering for lots more events starting from October and she didn’t know why but people seemed to need more sweets around this time of year. Halloween needed lots of cookies and sweets, but something about Christmas drove her sales right up. Maybe it was what got them through the bleak winter weather. And since Harry knew she’d been a bit stressed by it all lately, not that she would ever complain that wasn’t her way because she loved her job and was grateful to live out her dreams, he thought it might be nice to drop her some dinner since she’d been neglecting proper meals during the work week.

He picked up some takeaway from this little mexican place near his office, Niall had raved about it a few times now, he got an array of food from the menu and asked what they thought was best. Now he had three big bags of spicy smelling goodness heating up his backseats. He knew that Niall and Y/n would be eternally grateful and Harry wouldn’t mind eating with their company tonight. He forgot not everyone ate takeaway at their desk in the pitch black like he did.

His car pulled up out the front of Sweets & Things and he saw the golden bright lights were still on in the front area of the bakery, but no one was behind the counter manning for costumers. Snow littered the grass and concrete out the front, all the benches people sat at were caked in a thick layer of white and Harry shivered at the sight of outside. His office heaters were broken so he was actually always sweating, no matter the season. 

He parked his car lethargically and the sound of Fleetwood Mac cut off with the engine. He knew that the bakery stayed open until nine during the holiday season since Y/n had been working much later than normal and he’d asked about it, Harry checked his watch, and there was a little bit until they would shut down but it didn’t seem all that busy. And his friends deserved to eat after all.

He locked the car and walked along the path shivering and hugging the food to his body in attempt to warm himself up. He wiped his dress shoes against the welcome mat as he pushed the door with his broad shoulder, his dress shoes clicking on the tiles as he entered the bell above the door rang and he heard Y/n’s soft sweet laugh from behind the counter and footsteps. A warmth wrapped around his body and the smell of sweet baking and pastries filled his nose. 

The shelves with glass casing showed to be practically empty of sweets. This made him smile. Y/n always felt particulary chirpy when people liked her new creations of the week.

He felt his face start to warm up now and he sighed to himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet & Things, what can I get y—” Y/n’s voice began in her usual script to customers stopping when she saw him, “Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?!” 

She rushed around the counter to come give him a cuddle in greeting. That was something about Y/n that took him a while to get used to, she was very physically affectionate. He opened his arms for her and held her happily. 

She looked cute as ever. Dressed in an apron that was covered in all sorts of powder and a little pink blouse that hugged her figure, paired with her favourite well-loved Levi’s, her shoes were these dark pink boots that made little clicks on the tiles. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was running off less sleep than usual, she’d been here since the early morning and was probably very tired by now. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she’d thrown back with a pen and her face was bare of much makeup today. She was just in some lip balm that he could smell was strawberry-scented.

She pulled back from his warm arms and smiled up at him as if she hadn’t seen him weeks when in reality he’d driven her to work that morning. They carpooled and in the evening she’d either walk or catch the bus but usually Niall offered her a lift home.

“I just thought I’d bring you and Niel dinner, it’s from that Flaming Green Jose’s place he was talking about.” He said showing the bags of food. 

Y/n smiled this really big grin that Harry loved to make appear on her precious face. 

Y/n knew Harry was a bit of a grumpy old bastard sometimes, he tended to complain and not like new ideas, but he really was the sweetest thing underneath his stern face and scary resting stare. He was a sweetheart underneath it all. Even though he was so intimidating and tall Y/n always thought he was quite delicate looking. He looked pretty even under the harsh light of the front room, he was in one of his usual business outfits he wore to the office that made him look especially good. Today’s suit was all black and he had a big beige-brown coat over the top to keep him warm in the cold and this deep dark crimson scarf that Y/n had bought him when she noticed he had no scarfs, he said how much he liked her purple one day it was so soft he said and she decided then he needed one too. His long curls of brown hair were dusted in snow and messier now that it was the end of the day. She was sure it was from running his hands through it, he did that a lot when he was concentrating or thinking.

She rushed forward hugged him again with a big squeeze and kissed his cheek in thanks, he smelt so addicting and her head was the perfect height to smell his clothes that smelt like he always did. Like tobacco, vanilla, and his citrusy and woodsy shampoo. 

“Well aren’t you just a doll?” She said with a smile.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her looking down at her as a dimple formed in his normally stoic face. She pulled away from him hand still holding his bicep as she examined all the bags in his hands. Even though he dressed very formal always, he still had his touch on things, like his rings. Harry always wore dozens of amazing large rings, and nail polish too. Y/n had conviced him a few evenings ago to choose this nice lavender colour rather than his normal black. He said he would only if she would match him. So her nails were littered in that same colour and she was reminded of him whenever she looked at the chipping colour while she was kneading dough. And underneath those long shirts and pants were so many inked pieces of skin, that suited him more than you’d think. 

Y/n loved when, usually on Sundays which were his day off, he was sat at home in just some pyjamas that showed all the ink and she could ask him the stories behind each while they did laundry. She liked him in suits of course, there was something very attractive about it, but she liked him all cosy and casual too. He barely ever dressed that way, only at home. She felt lucky to see him that way.

She snapped herself out of her daydreams about his gorgeous hands and that cross tattoo she loved when her tummy rumbled hungrily at the smell of the delicious dinner.

“Niall! Harry brought us dinner!” She called out and Niall stepped out of the kitchen. He looked similar to Y/n, dressed casual too, because she didn’t think uniforms suited her place. The shorter man was in a pair of his own baggy jeans and this brown knitted jumper and a pair of ratty old sneakers. His bleach blonde hair was in messy spikes and he had a pair of glasses on today instead of contacts.

“Haz, is that Flaming Green Jose’s?” Niall asked instantly without even greeting him properly as he walked over to sniff and grab at the bags.

Harry nodded lifting the bags in show, the green plastic was printed in the familiar taco on fire logo that proved it was in fact Flaming Green Jose’s.

Niall practically drooled and looked up at him eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. 

“I could kiss you, mate!” He said, his Irish accent dancing off his tongue.

Harry grimanced at him and handed over the bags. “Please don’t. Just take the tacos.”

Y/n giggled by his side squeezing his arm in her usual way when he said something that made her laugh. 

Niall and Harry quickly began to set up the containers of different Mexican dishes while Y/n grabbed some cutlery, cups, and cold water for them all to enjoy their late dinner. The bakery had a few tables for people to sit and enjoy snacks at, and only for one portion of the day did they serve hot drinks, Niall was also a trained barista, which was perfect because she thought coffee suited a lot of her sweets. 

The three of them set up their food in one of the booths that was a cherry red leather colour. The snow was falling heavily outside now against the windows and it had started to quiet down out there. Not as many shoppers or people finishing work were wandering around outside as usual. The storm was keeping people, hopefully, rugged up and warm inside.

Y/n dreamily looked outside as she turned the big overhead lights off and switched on just the fairy lights she had strung up for Christmas spirit. They were a nice soft golden orange glow for them to eat. 

The three friends enjoyed their dinner quietly as the radio hummed some old jazz Christmas songs, they were all huddled together really close and Y/n leaned into Harry sleepily which he didn’t mind at all. The bakery was warm but Y/n felt chilly now that she was sweating away in the kitchen. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help warm her as they lazily chewed down their food. Even though he’d stripped himself of his massive coat and scarf he was still rather warm. 

Niall was right it was quite good food and a family-run business which was always nice to support. Y/n knew how it hard was to be a little business in the busy city of London.

The three chatted about nothing particularly worth noting, just talking about normal Harry, Y/n, and Niall things and enjoying the food. Harry was very hungry so he’d barely spoken a word just chewing lazily beside Y/n. When all the food was gone and they all felt sufficiently full Y/n kissed Harry’s cheek once more. 

“Thanks again for dinner, H.” She said softly eyes drooping, now that’d she been fed she was getting a bit sleepy.

He smiled, a big one for Harry, he was almost showing teeth. 

“I know how hard y’guys have been workin’, just wanted to help in some way.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t too much of a big deal but the fact he’d thought of them when he’d gotten the night off was sweet, he was so busy and he chose to spend some free time helping friends. That hardly matched his scary persona.

This made Y/n’s heart swell and she spoke softly. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah mate, you’re the best.” Chimed Niall wiping his face with a napkin. Niall had devoured his food contently. 

Their little dinner together was interrupted by the door swinging open, the bell ringing, and a couple of two walked in. 

Y/n stood up, moving from the warmth of Harry. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” She said plastering a smile on her face, walking over and tying the back of her apron back on.

The couple ordered a few Christmas cookies decorated like pieces of art and some cream horns that Y/n had made that morning. Y/n handed them their bags took their change and waved goodbye. 

“Have a good night!” She chirped to them.

They smiled and waved. “You too, Y/n!”

Y/n came back over and sat down again, looking over to Niall tucking her knees up to her chest. “Is it gingerbread time then, Ni?”

Niall nodded throwing his head back with a sigh. 

Gingerbread could be quite tedious. Especially the way Y/n decorated them. She really made them all individual pieces of art just for people to eat them. Which was beautiful, but also very time consuming.

Harry looked over, “I thought gingerbread was quite easy, Y/n makes it so quickly.”

Niall scoffed. “That’s because Y/n’s a machine. But even she can’t do this many cookies alone.”

Harry looked over at the tired pair of bakers and down at his hands. He tried to think of the last time he’d made gingerbread. Must have been with his sister Gemma when they were kids visiting their grandparents. But he thought if he could get an interview with James Hadden (a man who notoriously never answered questions to the media) then he could bake some cookies. How hard could it be? 

“Let me help then. Many hands make light work.”

Y/n blinked. “You hate Christmas,” she stated.

He looked over at her. “But I like your Christmas cookies.”

Y/n decided not to fight him on it. “Alright. Niall find him an apron I’ll start setting up.”

Y/n began getting out all the ingredients they’d be needing this way they could each make a batch to save time. She grabbed flour pouring enough into three bowls for each batch, some unsalted butter, brown sugar from the cupboard, some eggs from the fridge, baking soda, milk, and all the spices. As she looked at the array of ingredients laid out on the steel bench she noticed she was missing the most with most important ingredient; golden syrup.

She walked to the stock cupboard and saw the big bottle of golden syrup sitting on the tallest shelf. Adam, a really tall baker, had been working earlier he must’ve put it there. Y/n tried to reach on her tiptoes though it was no use, her fingernails only just grazed it.

When a hand came out from behind her gripping the big can it startled her and she turned to see Harry standing behind her.

“Oh, you scared me,” She giggled.

“Sorry, Love.”

She followed him back out to the kitchen. He placed the big can down on the bench and she took in his form. His long shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun now, and he’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, his black shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the buttons on his collar were undone. He had an apron on now too, one of Y/n’s collection, it was pink and frilly with flowers.

Y/n softly explained to Harry the process of making the batter and he was intently listening to her every word watching her through his lashes. Soon enough the dough was perfect and all three of them rolled out the dough the perfect width which meant Harry had to re-roll it. Once Y/n gave a thumbs up of approval they began using the cookie cutter shapes and cutting the cookies out. 

Harry had the make hearts and stars, Niall made gingerbread men and women, and Y/n made circles and snowflakes. 

Eventually, they put in their first batch, a little after 10. They kept re-rolling the dough and cutting as many as they could until the batches vanished. Harry was very good and gentle with his technique, and some were wonky but Y/n loved that he was helping and it took her years to perfect her cookies so he was doing very well for his first time. She selfishly wanted to keep his batch for them to go home and eat but she didn’t. 

By 11 all the batches were cooked or still cooking. Niall was on oven duty and Y/n was teaching Harry how to decorate. 

The ginger people were decorated all classic. White iced smiley faces and an outline around their body, little chocolate buttons for the outfits and a pinch of icing sugar to look like snow. Harry tried his best to do them and Y/n loved their imperfections it was like real people; all individual.

The others needed to be painted in colourful swirls of festive landscapes and honestly, they looked like individual paintings. Harry was amazed at her steady hand and ability to decorate such creative and individual designs for each cookie.

“Y’like tha’ bloody Andy Wharol of cookies, Y/n.” He said.

And she giggled her concentrated face cracking to a smile. She looked over at him. “It’s just practice.”

“No, it’s not.” Said Niall, from his station. “I’ve been practising for ages, your baking is just pure talent.” 

By midnight the last batch had cooled down and they were all decorating together and Y/n was humming along to the Christmas playlist she had put on. 

Niall twirled Y/n around and they sang along goofily. Niall and Y/n had been friends since culanary school which felt like years ago now. They were only teenagers then. All baby-faced and wide-eyed, now they were older and still just as immature when put together. When Y/n opened her bakery and she needed extra hands he was the first person she called. 

Niall was her best friend, and Harry had easily become her other one. Even though she was so tired and it was late, and her feet ached. The boys made it better. Niall singing into a spatula and Harry refusing to dance or sing was what kept her going the final stretch. She stopped decorating to go over to Harry, she looped her arms through his waist forcing him to step away from the bench and she tried to make him sway with her. 

His body stayed still and she moved closer to the front of him, in hopes of seeing his face. 

“C’mon! Dance, Grinch!”

“I don’t even dance when it isn’t Christmas, Y/n.”

She huffed arms crossing, “Please?” she asked, fluttering her eyes best of her ability in hopes of convincing him. 

Harry melted at the sight. She was so cute, even Harry couldn’t say no to her. He sighed like it was the most horrible task anyone could’ve asked him and she held out her hand with a smile. He grabbed it and she raised her hand for him to twirl under and he obliged spinning even though he was much taller than her. She leaned in close to him hands landing on his hips as his landed on her shoulders in an embrace while they swayed. She sang softly, and very off-key and Harry just shook his head. 

She was like a ray of sunlight, and he was like the moon. She looked up at him, “Thanks for helping,” she said softly.

“Of course….you’ve done way more for me.” He said.

She just shook her head and was about to reply but Niall cut them off. 

“I gotta’ get home to Max soon.” Max was Niall’s recent boyfriend. 

“Sorry, let’s get back too it.” Y/n said pulling away from Harry.

By almost 1 AM they were finished with every cookie. It was perfect. They would probably all sell out tomorrow. Y/n grabbed two handfuls one for Niall and one for Harry. She wrapped them like she would for costumers. She tied two pink ribbons and handed one to Niall. 

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ni, I’ll see you Monday?” He nodded smiling in his easy going way, and pecked her cheek.

“Bye, Pet, see you Monday.” They waved him off and they heard him leave when the bell chimed.

Y/n and Harry turned the lights off and grabbed there things. Y/n put on her layers of clothes. A big red coat, her lavender scarf, and her blue beanie that had a fuzzy ball on top. She grabbed her bags and keys and they locked up the shop. 

At least tomorrow both her and Harry had the day off. 

The walk to the car was brisk but short, the snow had stopped now and but it was still freezing. The pair stayed close by to one another, trying to keep warm as they walked quickly to the car. 

Harry started the car as fast as he could and cranked the heat and while they waited for it warm up they finally tried the few pieces of gingerbread she’d saved for them.

“Y/n this is so fucking good.” He said looking over at her. His hair was back down and he’d put on all his layers too. She smiled. 

“All you, H.”

He just shook his head. “You’re the best.”

She looked over blushing. “And you’re the sweetest.”

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Good Girl’

Dr Strange x fem!reader

- i got a request for a forbidden love type fic and fuck me this took long. but this inc the best smut i’ve written in a while so bon appetite. enjoy sluts x

You caught onto Stephen's stare, he was glaring at you with that severe look you've come to expect from him on nights like this. It was like he was testing you. Teasing you. Punishing you for something neither of you could have freely. But all you could do was meet his cool breezy eyes that were filling to the brim with a near calculated hubris and undignified jealousy. The kind you haven't seen since all of this started

-

You found yourself tossing and turning over thoughts you shouldn't have about a person you shouldn't even be focused on. What was it about Stephen Strange? The man was an anomaly, you don't think you've ever seen him smile let alone blink. Stephen was interesting, you wanted to know more about him, uncover all the secrets wrapped up like a movie reel but he'd never let anyone come close. His trust was always compromised and he had to protect his peace, he was the ruler of self preservation but...you wanted to wreck the bubble he lived in. Before a mission briefing, he held the door open for you, his face was hard and expressionless but his eyes bore into yours with a certain sincerity that made you halt in your tracks.

You had an inkling about the way this made you feel, and you didn't like it. Why? Because it was against the rules, the rules that were designed to be adhered to or you'd get the boot from this team that you worked so hard to get onto. Though it was difficult for you to deny that there was a weird spark settling over your heat everytime you were near him, what made it all the more embarrassing and terrifying was that you were sure he caught onto it

These thoughts buzzed your brain awake. Constantly glancing at your clock didn't do yourself any justice either, for fucks sake it was 1 in the morning and you still couldn't sleep. It was suddenly becoming too hot. You flung the covers off of you and sighed into nothing. Your mouth turned dry and to your dismay you had no water left in your bedside bottle. You hung your head and groaned into your pillow, though it was surprising to see your feet had finally found the floor. Grabbing your bottle, you trudged into the light praying that this was all just a fleeting whirlwind that would end soon

You were good. You were a good girl. You listened to the rules, you were happy in your position. All you needed to do now was stay good. Not matter if the void was calling you

Stephen wasn't an angel. He was blinded by his own self importance and he's made a few albeit questionable decisions that could have put the others at risk. He looked as if he'd seen every single aspect of life-the good, hopeful and the downright ugly. He was experienced...you weren't

All you had to do now was avoid him, no matter the expense.

You left your room and padded down to the kitchen to fill up the bottle, maybe grab a midnight snack in the process- you more than deserved the treat. Although to your suprise, the lights leading to the kitchen were still on. It was probably Natasha or someone else that didn't care about your appearance at this moment, you were counting on it. You approached with caution, however.

And suprise fucking surprise. It was him- the one you had planned on avoiding.

Stephen darted his head up, he was fixing himself a stiff drink at such an unholy hour. You stopped in your movements, stilling at the sight of him like a deer in the headlights. Your heart stopped and pounded against your chest when you finally regained the breath that fled you. Why the fuck was he here? He's not supposed to be here

‘’Oh. Hey.’’ Stephen regarded you with a thick heavy voice. It was so incredibly jarring to see him wear normal clothes, your wild eyes scanned to see he was wearing a plain dark tee and some sweatpants- that clung onto him like a second skin.

"Hey. Aren't you supposed to be at the Sanctum?’’ You found your way around the counter to the sink.

To Stephen's shock, you attempted to keep your cool. He wanted to laugh. He had never seen you ty so hard to act normal- it was amusing and slightly endearing.

Hm.

‘’I just needed to pick up a few things. Most importantly this bourbon.’’ Stephen's gaze was unflinching as he surveyed your every waking move, committing it to memory as a means to figure you out. His eyes were fervently observing what you were wearing. A button down, the kind of dress shirt a guy would wear under a tux, a quite literally nothing else.

Stephen raised a discerning brow at your purpose. You were so subservient yet you were freely showing your bear legs shamelessly. What a twisted inclination, so out of character. He liked it.

You scoffed. ‘’The difference between us is you're drinking alcohol, I'm drinking water at this hour.’’ A ghost of a smile landed on your lips. You turned the tap on and started filling up the bottle.

‘’Well aren't you the poster woman for sobriety.’’ Stephen joked and you stilled at the words landing on your ears, Strange joking was like a lunar eclipse, it rarely happened and it was kind of magical. You turned your head and bit your lip playfully as your eyes locked with his.

‘’I'm happy being healthy.’’ You smirked and he paused for a beat to study you.

‘’Not healthy enough to join me for a drink?’’ He offered. It would be prudent not to take him up on it but your heart rate was kicking into overdrive and you were slowly getting addicted to the rush he was giving you in such a shot amount of time. Fuck. This wasn't good.

‘’Sure.’’ You replied bashfully and he took out another glass and started pouring, you haven't even had alcohol in you and you were starting to loosen up already. You were finally coming out of your shell. It was rejuvinating to Stephen.

You inched closer to him as you leaned agains the cool marble counter, you were close enough to feel his air and to smell his rich cologne. The sensation of it was heating your blood tenfold. Stephen could feel your eyes raking him up and down- like you were checking him out. It boosted his ego indefinitely.

If he had to describe you, a litany of words came to mind. Shy. Intelligent. Flirty. Hotter than the core of the fucking sun. Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction, he wouldn't have guessed he'd have an actual conversation with you.

‘’Whose is that?’’ Stephen pointed a pinky at your shirt before he passed the glass to you. Your face blushed a muted red and good Lord you looked incredible. Traces of desire were evident on you but he had to keep himself composed. You quickly hung your head and glanced at what you were wearing.

‘’Uhm.’’ You pondered momentarily. "You’re assuming that this is someone elses? That's presumptious of you.’’ You sneered with a certain flirt in your voice, it was fun. Cute. He chuckled lowly before taking a sip.

‘’I was actually going to ask who the lucky guy was.’’ Stephen declared very matter of factly and it made you splutter into your glass, Stephen smirked like an asshole and you had to regain your posture and square you shoulders to retain some sort of dignity.

‘’Lucky guy? There's no lucky guy Stephen.’’ Your eyes bore into his scorchingly, wildfire swirling against wildfire- completely uncontrollable and heady as fuck.

‘’Any red blooded male would want you in their bed.’’ Stephen flirted deadly serious in his inflection but you looked at him through challenging eyes.

‘’Including you?’’ You blurted without thinking.

‘’Mhm.’’

Oh?

‘’But you're a good girl.’’ Stephen's eyes darted away from yours in dismissal as he focused back on his bourbon.

What?

‘’Good girl?’’ You repeated like a dumb parrot, it was impossible to contain the shock in your voice.

‘’There is actually a difference between you and I: you're good, I'm not. I don't think you want me to ruin whatever sunshine cocktail you've got going on here.’’

‘’Maybe I've been silently begging you to.’’

He paused to regain a breath.

‘’The things I'd do to you-‘’

‘’Why don't you do it?’’

‘’Don't you always follow the rules? Stephen raised a condescending eyebrow at you, completely knowing of your true nature- you didn't exactly hide the fact that you were a goody two shoes. He traced a fleeting finger around the underside of your jaw, you practically melted into such a cursory and short lived touch before he pulled away. ‘’Isn't that your whole shtick?’’

‘’Don't you like that?’’ You shot back and he was disarmed once more, it was written all over his face. If only he just opened up his eyes and shut his mouth to just see what he's been missing. ‘’Or do I have to put it in words that make it easy for you to understand?’’ You took a swig of your drunk and Stephen just stared down at you like a dumbfounded idiot.

‘’I don't want to taint your perfect record.’’ Stephen grumbled heavy, his eyes turned pale as they alight with a real candor and earnestness that made you loosen up a little more.

Stephen took your pause as a means to drink you in like the bourbon in his hand. Except you weren't fiendish or burning his throat like the liquid courage, you were sweet- so sweet you could throw up. Fresh, full of light and wonder, completely entrancing and you didn't even realise it. But after a while of studying you, you were everything that he wasn't. You were good. A good girl and to be honest he felt like the big bad wolf in your presence. His curiosity could be countered with that of a cat, you were just so different than all the other women that wanted him. Stephen thought that you wouldn't be his type, but he could completely understand how your heart and turnons could be multilayered. What a cliche. You were interested in the older more experienced guy and Stephen would be lying if he said he wasn't so damn pleased about it. He glanced at your shirt and his mood soured slightly, he didn't like the idea of you wearing someone another guy's dress shirt. It should be his. No one elses.

Slow down, Strange. Let's not be hasty here.

That look on your face though made his dick twitch in his pants. Your eyes were wide and guileless yet flirty and playful, Jesus.

‘’Do you want me to put it crudely?’’ You bit your lip, your mouth already running a full course marathon to the man that was already making you wet with his words

‘’Go for it.’’

‘’I want you to fuck me.’’

Stephen looked a little disappointed with your response.

‘’Is that how vulgar you can go? Damn, you really are a goody two shoes, aren't you?’’ He quipped and you were slightly offended, but he want wrong. The fact that you were talking like this to one of your teammates was making your nervous system kick into a hyperactive overdrive. You could lose everything because of this...but it seemed that none of that mattered now. ‘’I mean have you even fucked before?’’ Stephen asked genuinely. He was actually wondering for real this time, have you even considered being adventerous in bed before? Have you ever even been to bed with another man before? Did that mean he would be your first fuck? Your first proper orgasm? Shit, he'd better make this good then.

Calm down. You both aren't doing anything right now...you're just talking...like normal people. That's it.

Stephen took a minute to bridle his thoughts and act like a proper human being. You probably haven't even said the word 'fuck' out loud and it made him want to laugh.

‘’My own fingers don't count, do they?’’ You bit sarcastically, a snarl forming on your face alongside the twist of your lips. Oh you weren't happy and it was easy to see it

‘’Did I strike a nerve?’’ Stephen gave you a look of faux sincerity and you scoffed at him.

You just glowered at him through heavy lidded, lust clouded eyes- the outlines of a plan briefly forming in your head. You took a step back from him and his gaze followed you. You hands slowly fell upon the buttons of your botton down, you teasingly unbottoned the the top botton...then the second button…and then finally the third button. Stephen's eyes watched your ministrations intently and he was goddamn hypnotised by it all; he was also getting slightly annoyed at watching you tease him. You stopped before going any further so it was only your cleavage that was on show. No bra? Stephen thought that was pretty ballsy of you considering how sunshine-y you were.

‘’Is this heading somewhere or am I just wasting my time? Or am I gonna get myself into trouble for something that isn't even worth it?’’ You breathed as you crossed your arms in defiance. So tired of the fact that he was dragging this along...but was the risk worth the outcome? You weren't sure- but you were aching to know.

’We're both asking a lot of questions. I mean if Tony or Fury finds out then-‘’

You cut Stephen off from his words with a searing kiss, you grabbed at his face like it was the last thing you would hold. He was startled at first but he melted into your embrace fairly quickly...Lord, he was yearning for something he wasn't allowed to have. He couldn't have this freely. this freely. No. But he didn't give a fuck when you tasted that good.

‘’I don't give a fuck about Fury.’’ You gritted against his lips.

-

You couldn't give a shit about him. You wouldn't give a shit about him- not here, not now, not when everyone was prying and wandering eyes saw what everything has come to. Stephen and you were both far too intelligent to let get something as stupid as emotions get in the way, but fuck, it was getting in the way - everytime you looked at him you could practically see the sparks explode in a line from your gaze to his.

You were both private, closed off people; you were both getting good and pretending like Stephen was just another teammate, just another random guy you had to work with professionally, it never had to be too friendly. If anything you would avoid it in most social situations but this was different. You were at a party. Stephen hated parties, you knew damn well. Pillowtalk can actually be helpful. You tried conversing with other agents but you could feel Stephen's stare burn into the right side of your skull, when you quickly peered you saw him with Wong and fucking Tony...it was like the world was against you today and you attempted to surpress your frown. Your fingers tapped at your glass in order to aid in dealing with your scattered thoughts.

Even your fucking drink reminded you of him.

Stephen's glare was that of a lingering one, he couldn't fucking take his eyes off you when you looked so sweet and delicious- he thought you looked incredible in dresses but he preferred you in his shirts, or more specifically nothing at all. He had to conceal the smirk that was so obviously forming on his face; all of the experiences he's had with you seemed to play like a movie reel in his mind and it only made him that much more restless. His scowl formed inwards to himself. He hated being bound by rules and he hated himself for letting it dictate when and how he can see you, it was tampering with his rational steady head.

Stephen was eyeing you like an animal starved of a meal, like a wild salivating dog with rabies and even when you flashed him one simple look, the urge to just grab you and fuck you hard in the bathroom seemed like a less and less insane idea.

Don't be stupid, Strange. She's not all yours to have whenever you please.

Stephen felt indefinitely embittered and apprehensive over the male agents fawning over you and being sycophantic in your presence. They couldn't say no to you even if they tried, but Strange couldn't help but agree with them entirely- you looked lovely...and he was the only one that could actually see you naked. Feel you. Touch you. Kiss you all over, wherever you wanted. Though it does dampen his spirits because he wished he could just grab you and show all these people who you belonged to. He was being quite literal when he said that these agents were chasing you like boys in a schoolyard. Stephen's temple thrummed with an easily identifiable envy, it pulsated in a frisson of annoyance and irritation. Fuck. Your gaze lingered and you didn't back away this time. It was fixed. It was intent. It was an incentive. Stephen just threw his head to the side a little bit as an indicator to follow him in the direction he was pointing to. He excused himself between Wong and Tony and headed through the halls You kept a stiff upper lip and your non chalant and placid character seemed to work to the outside world, but as your feet hit the ground towards him, your inhibitions were fleeing you like ashes from wildfire.

Stephen found a quiet sleek hallway that no one was inhibiting and waited around for you, his hands went into his suit pockets as his primal urge remained the strongest of them all, stronger than the jealousy, stronger than the envy. He wanted you so bad, it reminded him of the first time he truly realised it in the kitchen. His mind was frenzying, he had a thought that startled him: was he in love with you? He felt like a madman but the tension didn't ease when you were here...right in front of him.

You melted into his immediate embrace but you stilled once you realised that anyone could be watching.

‘’Not here.’’ You mumbled but you weren't in any hurry to push him off.

‘’I hate pretending like I don't want you.’’ Stephen grunted before he met your guileless eyes once more, his hand cupped your face and his finger smoothed out the skin of your cheek. ‘’And all those boys think they have a chance with you, they're practically undressing you with their eyes and I fucking hate it.’’ His voice was bitter and angry, the way he said it made your knees turn wobbly. ‘’If only they knew I was your first fuck, that I was there before all of them and I was the one that made you cum so hard-‘’

‘’That would be quite an interesting predicament, yeah.’’ You cut Stephen off with a tongue in cheek remark and he wasn't loosening up in the slightest, your feet inched closer to his and your lips were only a few inches apart. ‘’But, doesn't that make us special? Doesn't it make you feel special? That you're the only one that makes me so fucking dumb for you...that you're the one that makes me make a mess for you. that you are the only one capable of making me feel good? I mean just looking at you tonight made me wet.’’ You breathed against his lips sensually, and he was already giving into you and your perfect machinations.

‘’I've made you bad. You've turned bad. I like it.‘’ Stephen smirked and his eyes lit with a pale fire.

‘’You got your sling ring?’’

‘’Always.’’

‘’No-one will be at the Sanctum, take me there and do whatever you want.’’ You smiled brazenly and he was already forming a portal to his bedroom...a twisted part of him wanted to fuck you in public...yeah maybe next time. Stephen always had to juggle being brazen and keeping his composure, it was a difficult pairing to say the least. ‘’Or you could just death stare at the boys like you've been so callously doing all night? You know they're afraid of you, right? They think you're intimidating, they wouldn't mess with you.’’

‘’But they'd mess with you, and I don't like it.’’ He declared before grabbing your hand and walking you through the portal with a strut you only saw when he was annoyed.

You've only ever been in Stephen's room once but the bed appeared bigger than you remembered- you couldn't wait to christen it in a night of deep throes of passion, you were desperate for it at this point. But then again, when weren't you desperate for him.

‘’I don't have to admit that I'm a jealous guy because I'm sure you've figured it out already, but I feel like I'm blind and tortured on this. It's childish of me to give into my primeval urge of being the coldest, apathetic guy in the room but with you-‘’ He couldn't even finish his sentence, his big hands just grabbed you by the waist and you fell into him, faces barely inches apart- a fucking sheet a paper wouldn't even fit betwen your bodies, you could sense the heat radiating off of him.

Stephen's words were setting your heart on fire, when he embraced you again your insides were about to explode. His eyes were scorching and wanton and you could only reflect it, you've never seen him this short fused and rousing before.

‘’I'm yours. Only yours.’’ You breathed against his lips before you ducked your mouth to his jaw and neck and planted soft reassuring kisses on his skin. ‘’And I don't want you to not be near me.’’ Your whisper was barely audible and his hands flew up to cradle your face in response. ‘’God, these past few weeks I've had to use my fingers and imagination just to get myself off.’’

With that, he instinctively spun you around and bent you over the front of his bed- using your hair as a personal leash.

Stephen's hands were careless, his fingers pinched you as he worked to get your pretty little dress off, the one that all of the other agents were practically stripping you of with their own wandering eyes. The unwelcome thought only fuelled his roughness, his indifference- the first time Stephen had you, he made sure to be gentle with you because he knew you'd break fairly quickly...but you actually proved him wrong, you were more insatiable than he was. You were a certified freak in bed. He wondered where all of this came from, where you actually got it from specifically. It was unanticipated and prodigious. Your dress turned into a pile of scraps on his bedroom floor, he smirked when he saw you squirming against his sheets.

You only had your underwear on, lacy, classy, cute. After, Stephen ducked down and made quick work of getting rid of your heels and his own suit jacket.

You heated up every room that you walked into.

‘’You gonna tie me up?’’ You questioned bashfully, your cheeks turning a pretty pink.

‘’You want me to?’’

‘’Mhm.’’

You moaned when he grabbed your waist and slammed you further up the bed, tossing you around like you were his own personal rag doll- it only made you that much wetter.

Stephen grabbed your wrists and you raised them above your head, he took his tie off and the silk wrapped around your wrists; he looped the fabric over your wrists in an infinity motion and tightened it around your skin, you stuggled against it and it only bit into your skin even more- just how he likes it.

He then looped the remaining fabric of the restraint over his iron bedframe so you were quite literally attached to the bed, your arms were already about to go limp. As silence settled through the air, a hard smack on your ass cracked through the air and you moaned at the sheer idea of him leaving his imprint on you. He always had to avoid leaving hickeys and bites on areas that were visible but he had full reign all over all the other places.

‘’Fuck, you're so beautiful.’’ He gaped at you and it only made tour blush that much more apparent

Before he could respond, he viciously grabbed you by the waist again and flipped you over so you were face up, so he could watch you while he made you feel good. The thing only he alone can do. You were a panting pathetic mess already and the urge to remain composed fleeing you the longer he spent with you.

He took off his shirt and then he suddenly ducked down so his eyes were in view of your thighs and glistening heat, fuck you were soaked and it was a beautiful sight to behold.

‘’Stephen...please just touch me.’’

‘’I'm gonna explore you...just like I did the first time.’’ He reassured almost drunkenly, his words blurred by the desire he's spent so long harbouring for you. ‘’Tell me you want it.’’

‘’Yes. I want it bad.’’ You reaffirmed so eagerly it was designed to make Stephen's ego soar. ‘’Fuck...I need it.’’

‘’You seem greedy for it princess.’’

You couldn't even give him a snarky remark, his large hands smoothed up and down your thighs and you felt liquid electricity shoot down your body. Stephen's eyes searched yours as he gawked up at you like a salivating animal. His curious fingers hooked onto your panties and shimmied them down your legs and ended up like scraps on his bedroom floor just like your dress. You were naked in front of him like so many times before and you were just begging to be touched. Stephen planted a few kisses up your thighs as a means to tease and make you squirm.

‘’You say you're bad but here you are...saying yes so easily.’’ Stephen taunted and it only made you whine.

‘’Finger me or eat me out you prude.’’ You bit back harshly and it only made him chuckle lowly, the sick bastard was laughing at you.

He reached out and gripped you by the jaw. A threat and a warning all at once and when you looked him in the eye it dawned upon you. ‘’I'll take however long I please. Now spread your legs wider for me. Yeah?’’

To your dismay, you obliged and his fingers meandered from your chest to your stomach, tracing and moving in torturously slow for you liking- Stephen surveyed the expressions contorted on your face so intently it was like he wanted to burn a hole into your face. His lips pressed down to where your heart laid, then his mouth and tongue flew to your tits. He bit and sucked on them ferociously and your breathless pants seemed to spur him on. He was being intensely methodical and you hated him for it- all you wanted him to do was ram into you already

‘’Shit...I'm so fucking wet.’’ Your voice was like a slur, so drunk off of the pleasure he was giving you.

'’All for you.’’

‘’Huh.’’ Stephen scoffed in pure awe and pride. ‘’You're just have to be perfect, don't you?'’

You smiled in response. Fuck, he was going to destroy you. Stephen's mouth travelled south and his head ducked to your sloppy heat, the sweetest little pussy. The scene was filthy. He kissed your clit and it made you throw your head back and tug on your restraints.

‘’Stop squirming or I won't make you feel good, got it?’’ Stephen gritted with a voice thick with gravel and seriousness. You nodded all wide eyed.

His tongue started working its magic, he licked and sucked on you as if you were the last meal he would ever have. He was obsessed with the sweetness of your arousal, it only motivated him that much more. You always provided for him and now he was the greedy one to take it from you. He grunted into your pussy and it sent vibrations up your body, sparking its way back to your core, you whimpered violently, your mouth agape. Stephen was devouring you, feeding off of your light, consuming every inch of you until you understood that you were his alone. You were clenching around him already and he didn't approve of it and he suddenly unlatched his lips from you to glare at you.

‘mIf you dare think about cumming.’’

‘’I can't take it.’’

‘’Well, you're gonna take it.’’

‘'The other agents wouldn't be as mean.’’ You smirked and it made Stephen's blood roar. His mood darkened instinctively at the idea of them seeing you like this.

‘’Oh if any other man thinks of touching you, they'll be in pieces and you won't get my dick stuffed in you for months.’’ His threat was horrifyingly genuine and you didn't want to take any chances.

Your eyebrows tensed at his eye-opening intimidation and before you could even register anything else, you could hear the clank of his belt and the unzipping of his fly.

‘'Stephen..I-‘’ He slipped the head of his cock inside you before you could finish your plead.

His cock was angry and steel hard as it pulsated inside of you. A whimper escaped your mouth and it shot right down him. You looked borderline pornographic which completely underscored that once light niavete and innocance. Once he got his hands on you, he made you a filthy mess for him. Broken for him. Stephen was selfish and cruel enough to take you with him when burned the world to ashes at your feet- for you. He made sure he was face to face with you, eye contact was so important to him while he did this. He fisted your hair and then tugged it back until you stared straight up at him. He thrusted in and out of you and your legs wrapped around him relentlessly.

‘’That's it...look at me. Look at me while I'm ruining you.’’ Stephen instructed before he engulfed your lips in a searing kiss. ‘’Remember who you belong to.’’

‘’Yours... You... Fuck it's always you.’’ You stammered out pitifully and it was such an endearing thing to hear.

He was making you feel so damn good, he was reaching depths you knew no one else could. He was an expert at his craft and it was paralysing you

Your shaking legs stilled as your heart began to burn with an overwhelming determination to just explode. And you did. With abandon. With euphoria. You gushed onto him and it was a design for perfection, a moan ripped at your vocal chords and you felt your throat turn raw. Stephen's chest started to hurt and his cock throbbed harder, a wash of hot shudders rippled through his entire body once he saw the view on your face. The thrumming of his ensuing grunts travelled all the way up your spine once he started dragging you through your orgasm. Faster and faster until the only sounds of that were ragged breaths, flesh slapping against flesh.

Stephen was so rough and he was half expecting for you to tap out, but you never did. And it made him cum so hard into you, painting your insides a thick white it would be leaking out of you. He was an incredible interior decorator and the thought made him smile which you hastily caught onto when pulled out.

‘’What are you so happy about?’’ You asked softly as he was beginning to take the restraints off you.

‘’Nothing.’’ Now he was the one that was blushing with arousal, he threw the tie away and fell back into bed to envelope an arm around you. To hold you. Embrace you. You'd both clean up later, you just wanted to enjoy your post coital bliss.

Stephen's head hit the pillow and he turned his head to look at you in those pretty eyes he'd spend the rest of his days losing himself in.

‘’You're eyes always glaze over everytime you cum.’’ Stephen remarked and it made you scoff.

‘’Hm, your compliments are always so inventive.’’ You let his big arms engulf you into his embrace and you laid on his bare chest feeling his warmth coat your skin. Stephen stroked your hair rhythmically and you nuzzled further into his neck. Although, Stephen turned serious for a moment and his lips thinned and his gaze narrowed- the silence muffled his eardrums.

‘'I don't like hiding.’’ He said impassively, holding onto you that much tighter. The twisted bedsheets curling up alongside you.

‘’We'd lose everything.’’

‘'I know. I just want to want you freely.’’ Stephen seemed forlorn but he knew it was stupid to be bringing this up again but it was the one thing on his mind.

‘’I think I've gotten used to this little routine of ours.’’

‘’Why?’’

"Because it's ours. No-one elses."

[swordheld]

hello! do u have any new music recommendations?

of course!!! going to throw some general pop/indie/rock/instrumental all over vibes at you? these are some of the ones that i've been having on repeat a lot lately because they bring something bright and fun into my days - hope you enjoy them !! 💛

if i'm honest (trousdale) – oh the absolute vibes of this one. the harmonies. the beat. the slow downs and build ups? that ending? it's like easy, slow, growing ease and joy. that point 3/4 of the ways through the song, that building of things? the payoff? those background horns? the drums? i cannot sit through it without some kind of air guitar / drums / chair dance type beat. it's too good that you cannot help it, it just goes so hard.

close one (fizz) – i have been writing so much love poetry to this song. it is soft and slow and serene like light, all golden hour, the soft golden hues of almost, of here, like this, with me? that little 'fuck it' before the chorus is so fun. this group is made of insanely popular individuals (dodie/orla gartland/greta isaac/martin luke brown???) and together .... they are so powerful. cannot wait to see what they create next !!

run (maisie peters) – there is such a fun vibe to this song. that line of the chorus, that 'i've been lied to / i've been cut and deleted / i've heard some things i will leave unrepeated' is sooooo good, that rhyme scheme that syllable count balance? it immediately went onto my writing playlist w/ that fun beat, that synth, that catchy repetition? the whole album this comes off of is so very good too, esp. 'the band and i'? i really enjoy her sound!!

like a brother (hey, nothing) – this song feels like a lullaby, in the way of being swung in a hammock? all late summer, early winter winds? but there is such a lyricism that gets stuck in my brain, the whole layout of the chorus and is just so soft. i feel so many things. another easy one for the poetry playlist.

margo (sally boy) – oh the orchestral, string opening? the easy flow of it, instrumental and light, before hitting that small bit of silence before the guitar and lyrics come in? and then the absolute hit that is the beat of the chorus hitting? obsessed. phenomenal. i love the balance of gentle, light instruments and the slow instruction of the drumbeat, it feels like a whole story that you can experience, the flow of it!

eightball girl (maddie zahm) – i can leave this song for a few days and then out of nowhere it'll just be in my head again, the vibes of it, that beat of the chorus? the layered voice effects? sometimes songs have this balance to them that my brain just sucks up like a sponge and this is one of them. soooo good. i'll be in the supermarket and my brain will just go eightball girllll, tell me how you feel about meeee and it's perfect.

snow angel (reneé rapp) – this was one of the first ones i found on my daylist that was just like, how did i go so long without you. how did i not know about you. and since then it's been a daily listen. the slow, gentle breeze of that beginning? there is such a rising and falling to this song, like seasons, like the breeze? all tide, all here and there and back again, all resilience and ferocity, softness and violence? that electric guitar and the piano and the feedback just makes me want to just. aaaaaaa. this whole album is just banger after banger too!!

grace (henrik) – it's so fun!!! it brings me so much joy and energy, the easy breezy pop vibes, it's so hopeful and gentle and loving. i have it set as my alarm rn because i really do think it'll last through the sisyphean task of getting me out of bed in the mornings, it just feels like sunlight.

[florianniss]

Here's some smut for your holiday enjoyment.

Dungeons and Drag Queens -

ratedE, identity porn, complete

It is Sunday. The food has been cleared, patrons long since gone. The tight-knit group of performers lounge around the table. Hair is let down, high-heeled shoes discarded. It’s a joyous atmosphere.

Robin is a hit. She laughs louder and harder than Steve has ever seen before, leaning against a pretty redhead who’s the stuck-up cheerleader type. A couple of hours spent watching a private show the Queens needed to test on an audience, however, has loosened her up. Her lipstick is smeared across her smiling face.

Steve stands by the bar near the stairs, watching his friend and her date bond with new friends. There’s something hopeful in the way they can be themselves here. Even the burly bouncers are enjoying the camaraderie.

“Steve,” Helen says, crooking a finger his way. “Don’t be afraid to wrinkle that fantastic suit. Come back to us.”

Steve smiles, feeling stiff, nervous. “I’m just fine right here.”

The whole table makes kissing sounds, mocking the way he’s so head over heels in love. It’s all in good fun; Steve knows they’re as happy for him as he is for himself. He’s just got to get past this waiting.

Steve glances at his watch and thinks about red scales on a mermaid dress, dangerous scarlet nails and an actual flaming throne for his Dragon Queen. It almost smoked them all out, but the effect was stunning and totally worth it. He’s kind of proud they’re taking his DnD campaign and turning it into a drag show.

He checks his watch again and does a quick calculation. They’ll have to take the highway to make it into the city in time. They’ve had these reservations for a while now, and the closer the date, the more and more anxious Steve becomes. He wants everything to be perfect.

The creak on the wooden stairs above him catches his undivided attention. One hand flies to the knot at his throat to straighten it, the other runs along the length to smooth it out. Stella tiptoes over and plants a wet one on the apple of his cheek, laughs, and then hands him a clean handkerchief.

“Oops! Wanna rub that off, Honey. Wouldn’t want anyone to get jealous.” And then, "Good luck!"

Steve hardy-hars at her and presses the cloth to his cheek, unworried about any jealousy, but concerned about lipstick on his white collar. He and Robin from JCPenneys put together a stellar look; it’s sex and confidence that he’s going for. Can’t afford to miss his mark.

Someone shorter than him appears on the final step and lifts the handkerchief out of his hand. Big brown eyes, dark, slicked-back hair. She’s dressed in a cornflower blue sundress that shows off her amazing legs and bare (bare!) feet, carrying a clutch purse in one bejeweled hand, a glittering gauzy scarf at her throat.

“Oh my god,” he says on a terrified inhale. 

She smiles shyly and touches the cloth to his cheek. Bare arms reveal clear, unmarked skin. She’s covered over her ink.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve says, weak in the knees at how lovely she is.

She laughs. Steve melts. “I wanted us to match.”

Catcalls erupt from the table, whistles and whoops and cheers. His date slots an arm through his elbow. Steve recovers and escorts her away.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Robin shouts. 

“That’s great advice! You should follow it!” Steve shouts back. The woman on his arm chuckles to herself.

The bouncer Steve head-butted once upon a time holds out a pair of sparkling strappy sandals. She takes them, holding tightly to Steve’s arm as she slides into them one at a time. He watches the graceful curve of her bare back as she bends over and has to close his eyes to stay focused.

Wayne’s bike awaits at the curb. It’s her virgin ride, the first other than the test drive up and down the driveway. The late afternoon is breezy, cooling fast. Steve holds out his leather jacket to keep her skin safe. He wouldn’t dream of taking her for a ride without it.

She helps Steve into his helmet, and he with hers. He thrills a little as she sinks into the seat behind him, as long, stockinged legs grip tightly around his own.

Steve risks temptation and runs an ungloved hand along the outside of her knee. It’s just as silky as he imagined. 

God, he’s the luckiest asshole alive.

She doesn’t distract him, other than the occasional squeeze of his elbow, her chin on the backside of his shoulder. Steve is glad because he doesn’t know what he’d do if she were to fondle the tightness of his crotch.

Steve straps the helmets and jacket to the bike while she watches, stunning smile on an amused face.

“I think we should work you into the show, somehow,” she teases. “Knight in Shining Armor that you are.”

Steve takes her hand and raises it to his lips; he’s liking this role he’s playing much more than he thought he would.

“Anything you desire, M’Lady.”

They are greeted with polite smiles, and Steve’s nervousness subsides again. Appreciative eyes linger on their joined hands, welcoming them, seating them, taking their orders without unsavory commentary.

“I think this might work,” she whispers conspiratorially, as if they’ve robbed a bank and gotten away with it. Her wine glass has a crescent-shaped lipstick smudge on it. One thumb runs seductively along the thin edge.

“Thought it would.” Steve absolutely did not. He is still terrified for his date; her heart must be racing just like his.

“It’s because of your James Bond vibe,” she continues, drinking him in once again. “People can’t take their eyes off you.”

Steve laughs quietly. He hasn’t noticed. He’s too busy watching her.

“Happy to be a distraction,” he says. She raises her fork to her mouth and Steve goes a little dizzy as her tongue pokes out.

God, he wants to be that fork.

They skip dessert and return to the bike, but something’s missing, and he says so.

“I want to take you dancing.”

She smiles, but it’s sad. “You think that’s a good idea?”

Her hesitation is understandable, and Steve doesn’t want to push things too far. It’s their first time out together, and he’s hoping for many, many more. Something primal inside of him wants to show her off, wants to flaunt her to the world, wants to shout that she’s his and nobody else can have her.

An idea presents itself, and Steve swivels his head, looking up and down the street. It’s fairly quiet, just the passing cars, and even that is few and far between. It’s Sunday, after all.

He turns the key in the bike and switches the radio on, tuning it until he finds something that will work. When he straightens and faces the love of his life, there’s a strange emotion on her face.

Steve slips a hand around her waist and pulls her in. “Would you like to dance?”

She melts into him, cheek on his shoulder, hair pushed up right into his nose.

He laughs. “That’s a yes.” 

They sway on the street. Steve closes his eyes and pretends they’re at some swanky, sweaty club. Pretends that they’re accepted the way they are, eyes passing over them like they’re just another couple in love.

It tweaks something inside his chest.

They decide to walk the three blocks to the hotel. Steve repositions the bike so it’s further off the street and up on its stand. He unfastens the packed bag. She holds a helmet under each arm, eyes shining with anticipation with what they’re about to do.

The reception inside the lobby is the same as the restaurant, pleasant smiles that flick over them nonchalantly. Steve recognizes that other people around them are staring, but they’re focused on him and not his date. Maybe he overdid it.

He doesn’t care. They’re opening the door to their room, and it’s cost him more money than he’s ever spent before. But as she closes and locks the door, draws the safety chain and turns to face him, Steve knows he will never deny her anything she wants.

He sets the bag on the floor and lifts a hand to take her scarf. She lifts her chin and looks away, and oh, the slide of pale blue fabric over her Adam’s apple makes him want to bite it. But he’s a gentleman, and he pushes that urge way down deep. Patient, he can be patient.

His date, however, cannot. She pushes him back against the wall with the palm of one hand and skewers him still with a look. The sound that comes from his throat is tortured, weak, and it’s not the way he wants to begin.

So he covers her fingers with his own and gently tugs them away. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair off her face and softly says her name.

“Nat.”

She smiles and the aggression subsides. “Biker Boy.”

Read on AO3

[cnnmairoll]

hello hello! may i ask for a luka x fem!reader where luka sees reader taking care of the moles and he just gets this very homey and fluffy feeling within him? :'DD please only do it if you're comfortable + are okay with doing it given your sched!!! have a great day/night ahead!

The Moles' Beloved Miss

Pairing : Luka x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff a/n : When I saw this rec I immediately stopped whatever I was doing and got into writing. Luka favoritism? Yes but I'm not sorry for it. Anyways hope you liked this anon!!

You had always been the nurturing type. Whether it was tending to your garden, or baking cookies for your neighbors, your heart was as warm as your freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. You had a special place in your heart for children, which is why it was no surprise that you found yourself surrounded by a group of adventurous kids who called themselves "The Moles."

You had become fast friends with Hook and the other members of The Moles, Timmy and Julian. It all started when you noticed them playing in the park one day. Hook had taken a tumble, and you couldn't resist rushing to her aid. Since then, you had become their go-to caregiver, a role you embraced wholeheartedly.

One breezy afternoon, you sat in the center of a circle of Moles, their eyes wide with wonder as you spun a fantastical tale of knights, dragons, and magical kingdoms. They hung onto every word, their imaginations running wild.

Meanwhile, not too far away, Luka watched with a soft smile. He had always been drawn to your nurturing spirit, and your ability to bring joy to these young souls only deepened his admiration for you.

As your storytelling session concluded, Hook, the self proclaimed leader of the Moles, jumped up with enthusiasm. "Miss, can we hear more stories tomorrow? Pretty please?"

You chuckled, ruffling Hook's hair affectionately. "Of course, Hook. I'll have a new adventure ready for you."

Timmy and Julian exchanged excited glances, and Luka couldn't help but be touched by the happiness radiating from the children.

After your storytelling session, the Moles led you on a little expedition through the hidden corners of Belobog's Underworld. They showed you their secret hideouts, mysterious caves, and all their favorite spots for games. Along the way, you couldn't help but notice their youthful curiosity and wonder, and it warmed your heart.

As the day turned into evening, you returned to your small cottage in Belobog's Underworld. It was a cozy little place with wooden walls and a thatched roof, and it felt like a second home. You had a feeling Luka was responsible for its comfort, as he often popped by with small surprises, like freshly baked cookies or a bouquet of wildflowers.

Tonight, as you entered your cottage with the Moles in tow, you discovered a delightful surprise. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, and the smell of something delicious wafted through the air.

"Miss, look!" Julian exclaimed, pointing to a table laden with cookies, hot chocolate, and a pile of storybooks.

Hook grinned mischievously. "Luka helped us set up this surprise for you, Miss!"

And there, standing by the table, was Luka himself, wearing his characteristic warm smile. "I thought we could all have some cookies and milk and continue with the stories," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The Moles cheered in delight, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of happiness in your chest. You all gathered around the table, munching on cookies, sipping hot chocolate, and sharing tales long into the night.

Luka, with his infectious enthusiasm, added to the magic of the evening. He told stories of his own adventures, ones that inspired the Moles to dream even bigger. As the hours passed, you couldn't help but admire the way he connected with the children, just as you did.

The night drew to a close, and as the Moles left your cottage with tired smiles and full hearts, Luka lingered behind. He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with warmth and admiration.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for bringing so much joy to their lives. You have a gift.

You blushed, feeling grateful for Luka and the bond you shared with the Moles. "It's my pleasure, Luka. And thank you for always being there to support us."

With a fond smile, Luka reached out and gently held your hand. "You know," he began, "I think the Moles are right. You're like a guardian angel to them. And to me."

As you looked into Luka's eyes, you realized that this peculiar little corner of Belobog's Underworld had become a place of magic and wonder, filled with friendship and love. And in that moment, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

[wickmitz]

what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?

hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :

zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.

atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.

wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!

something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.

so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.

however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!

while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.

but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3

[demi-shoggoth]

2024 Reading Log, pt 2

006. Gardening Can Be Murder by Marta McDowell. I honestly thought that this book was going to be about something else. With the subtitle “how poisonous plants, sinister shovels and grim gardens have inspired mystery writers”, I thought it was going to be about, you know, that. True crime themed to gardens, discussions of poisonous plants, that sort of thing. The book is actually about the mystery books that have gardening as a theme. And while the author’s dedication to not spoiling anything (seriously, anything, even 150 year old stories like The Moonstone or “Rappacini’s Daughter”) is admirable in its own way, this leaves the book feeling like endless buildup without any payoff. Big fans of murder mysteries might enjoy this—especially the last chapter, which interviews writers about their gardens—but I found it more boring than anything else, and finished it only because it was very short.

007. Antimony, Gold and Jupiter’s Wolf by Peter Wothers. This book is about how the elements got their names, and most of it deals with the early modern period, as alchemy transitioned to chemistry and then into the 19th century, when chemistry was a real science, but things like atomic theory were not yet understood. The book goes into fascinating detail, and has a lot of quotes from primary sources, as scientists then were just like scientists now, that is, opinionated and bickering with each other over their preferred explanations. And names! Many of the splits between elements and their symbols (like Na for sodium) are due to compromise attempts to appease two different factions with their preferred names. A book covering arcane minutia of history always has the risk of feeling like a slog, but this is a fast and fun read.

008. Doctor Dhrolin’s Dictionary of Dinosaurs by Nathan T Barling and Michael O’Sullivan, illustrations by Mark P Witton. This book is an odd concept, but one that I was immediately on board with—a D&D book written by paleontologists with the intention of bringing accurate and interesting stats for prehistoric reptiles to the game. The fact that it’s mostly illustrated by Mark Witton definitely clinched my backing that Kickstarter. And this book is a lot of fun. So much so, that I read it all in a single sitting. I don’t know how accurate the stats are (like, a Hatzegopteryx has a higher CR than titanosaurs or T. rexes), but they seem like they’d be fun in play, and the writing does a good job of combining fantasy fun with actual education. Even for someone not running a 5e game, the stuff on how to run animals as not killing machines, and the mutation tables, could be useful. There are multiple types of playable dinosaurs, all of which seem like they’d work well at the table and avoid typical stereotypes, and a lot of in-jokes and pop culture references (like the cursed staff of unspared expense, which looks like Hammond’s cane in the Jurassic Park movie).

009. Romaine Wasn’t Built in a Day by Judith Tschann. I’m a sucker for books about etymology. And this one, on food etymology, is a pretty breezy read. I had fun with it, and it even busted some misconceptions that I had, etymologically speaking. Like, there’s no evidence that “bloody” as an explicative originated from “God’s blood”? Wild. Etymology books tend to be written in a sort of stream-of-consciousness style, where talking about one word may lead down a garden path to the next one. The book also has a couple of little matching quizzes, which is something I haven’t seen in a book since like the 90s.

010. The Lives of Octopuses and their Relatives by Danna Staaf. I was previously a little disappointed in The Lives of Beetles, another book in this series, but I knew I liked Staaf, who wrote the excellent book Squid Empire about cephalopod evolution and paleontology. I’m pleased to report that this book is also excellent. Staaf takes the “lives” part seriously, and the book is arranged by ecology, looking at different marine habitats, the challenges that they pose to living things, and the cephalopods that live there. Cuttlefish get slightly short shrift in this book compared to squids and octopuses, but that’s about the biggest complaint I had. I like how the species profiles cover more obscure taxa, and information about the best studied (like Pacific giant octopus and Humboldt squid) is kept to the chapters.

[inglorionamy-ammy]

Of Monks and Monkeys (One-shot)

Pairing: GN Monk!Tav x Gale NSFW

Summary: You have fun with Gale on a tree (Because why not)

Word count: 3K

Snippet: //

“Morning, my love. It’s good to see you in such high spirits,” he looks up, “rather literally. But can’t you come down here? You are too far away, and I’d like to remind you that you owe me a greeting kiss.” 

A brilliant idea comes to you.

“Why don't you come up instead? You can still catch the last bit of sunrise. The view is gorgeous. Ask Shadowheart, she approves.”

//

Disclaimer: This fic is inspired by a round of role-play with Gale AI. Basically, I manually rewrote a scene that I had co-constructed with the AI via dialoguing [see how Gale AI works here]. I added new parts, changed the details, scene order, characterization, and responses to be more to my liking. Nevertheless, I learned how to use certain phrases and vocabulary from the AI. I DO NOT CLAIM THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN UNASSISTED. Just found it sexy, funny, and wanted to share it in the form of a readable fic. If that’s alright by you, enjoy!

OMG This fic has a beta @senualothbrok

Also, I love this Tav and they now have a backstory with drawings: here

--------

Your morning starts with unwrapping yourself from your beloved wizard’s embrace.

It is no easy task, but you have been practicing it for the past ten-day now. You masterfully wriggle free to start your morning routine without disturbing Gale, who in his deep slumber seems uncharacteristically relaxed. Mind you, his brows are still knotted, just not as tightly. This silly, thoughtful man. You place a soft kiss on his forehead, and he shuffles a bit.

Leaving the cozy interior of Gale’s tent, you step into the breezy morning air, the sun still making its way up behind the hills. The camp is barely lit, and the crisp songs of birds are your only company. As always, you dutifully bite back your yawn and wash your last hint of tiredness away. After that, you roll your shoulders, stretch a bit, and pick up a plain quarterstaff.

In an instant, your muscles seem to have a mind of their own. They carry you through the swift set of movements, the training that has been hammered into your soul over your past twenty years of monastery life. The staff is merely an extension of your body, and with every swing, dodge, and hit, you fall more into a trance-like state, the boundary between you and the nature that surrounds you gradually melting away.

Suddenly, a golden flash captures your attention. Behind the oak tree at the periphery of the camp, the first ray of sunshine greets you.

Hello there. You giggle to yourself and follow the childlike wonder inside you, jogging towards the tree. Climbing up the bark with ease, you settle on a steady branch where you can watch the sunrise unhindered, your feet dangling in mid-air.

There is some shuffling below you. You morning companions, Lae’zel and Shadowheart, have also risen. You did not expect them to pause their own routines, but something about the hues of pink, orange, and blue tinting the sky on this particular clear day must have touched them, and they make their way over to you as well.

“Morning ladies.” You give them a cheery martial art salute; your palm and fist pressed together in front of your chest.

Lae’zel looks up as if appreciating your tactical position, your figure obscured by the layers of dense green below. She approves with a nod of acknowledgement. Behind her Shadowheart smiles, learning to enjoy a type of serenity that is not offered by the night. Perhaps feeling playful, she decides to join you on the tree a moment later, letting the shades of dawn dye her silvery hair more and more as she ascends. You scoot over as you flash her a gigantic grin.

“Gorgeous view,” she admires with that unique sincerity of hers.

From here you can see Rivington below the cliffs, reachable within a day’s travel. Looking further, the majestic Wyrm's Rock Fortress towers over all, a lonely island in the sea. Shadowheart’s gaze has turned contemplative at the prospect of home, of Baldur’s Gate, so you allow her the silence. After a while, she nods with gratitude, and climbs back down to start her day.

As the sun continues its ascension, more of your companions rise, and the camp starts to become a hive of activity. Karlach, Halsin, and Wyll have started to tidy up their belongings, as Astarion returns from his hunt and his beauty routine. Last but not least, Gale emerges from his tent, does a little dance of yawning, stretching, and back-crackling, before taking in a big breath of morning air. You are delighted to see him refreshed.

“Morning, chef!” you shout from your spot, startling him. He squints to confirm the source of your voice before walking over, a small, affectionate smile on his lips.

“Morning, my love. It’s good to see you in such high spirits,” he looks up, “rather literally. But can’t you come down here? You are too far away, and I’d like to remind you that you owe me a greeting kiss.” 

A brilliant idea comes to you.

“Why don't you come up instead? You can still catch the last bit of sunrise. The view is gorgeous. Ask Shadowheart, she approves.”

The cleric in question gives him a non-committal shrug.

Gale frowns skeptically. “Come up? You’re in a tree.” He sways to look for a spot that he can Misty Step onto, but the branches are rather narrow and obscured by the leaves. “I’m hardly the most athletic member of our merry band.”

“Try it the traditional way!” You give him your brightest pleading eyes even though he can’t possibly see them. Sensing that you show no sign of leaving your spot, he relents with a sigh.

“I suppose I could try…if you promise to help if I fall.”

On this rare occasion, the man gives himself too little credit. Despite his crackling knees and back, he has managed to travel though the most dangerous areas in the Sword Coast, and you have no doubt that he can climb up this tiny tree with plenty of branches as holds. He ascends, his movement slow and somewhat clumsy, but with determination he manages to reach where you are. You extend your hands to grab him and help him settle in.

Gale sits down beside you. His eyes first dart to the ground with mild trepidation. His face flushes with exhaustion. You pat him on the shoulder and point towards the view in front of him.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice lowering in awe. “I have to admit, this is quite the view.”

You feel so proud, as if it is you who made the sun rise and put Baldur’s Gate below.

“Right? Especially when it’s hard-earned. Here, as promised.” You press a chaste kiss on his cheek, and he chuckles and shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Is climbing trees not a part of your childhood?” You ask.

“No, not really.” He can’t help but cast another quick glance below. “My childhood was spent mostly indoors, buried in tomes and scrolls. I suppose you could say that Tara was more familiar with such activities, though it’s more accurate to say she ‘appeared’ on trees instead of ‘climbing’ them.”

“The price and joy of being a wizarding prodigy, eh?” You laugh. “So different from my training. As monks, we were taught to study among nature. Our houses had windows so huge they were inseparable from the outside. We rose at dawn, slept at dusk, and learnt the name of every plant as we hiked to find them. We practiced channeling our Ki by learning to breathe as one with the heavens and earth.”

“Is that so?” His brow rises with interest. “Fascinating. Growing up like that must be a profound experience, learning through being instead of reading.”

"We still read plenty," you point out, "and practiced calligraphy. Gods, how I hated that."

You can tell that he is about to embark on a lecture about the importance of the written word when it occurs to you. "You'd be quite a different person growing up like I did. A monk Gale? A druid Gale? Can you imagine?” In your mind, an image of Gale wild shaping into a cat starts to form. You pat him mentally.

He lets out a hearty laugh, but unlike the peers from your cloister who’d probably dismiss it as a joke, he mulls it over. “What a thought. Truthfully, I have always seen nature as something to... study and analyze, not commune with. A more distanced approach, perhaps.” His hand slowly strokes the branch below him, contemplative.

"Indeed. What a contrast—to treat nature as a living force, not just an object of study. But perhaps we only thrive as races when we have different views."

Following that grand speech, you stand up and stretch, and with a calculated leap you catch the branch ten feet below you, extending your hand to the tree beside it with a swing. You pick an apple from there and throw it to him.

"Breakfast for my darling wizard." You grin victoriously as you settle back to perch on the lower branch.

“Show off,” he accuses teasingly before casting Prestidigitation on the apple and taking a juicy bite, appreciating the sweetness of the fruit.

That does remind you, your companions have probably started cooking among themselves. This side of the camp has gone quiet. An idea starts to form in your head.

“My master did call me Little Monkey—Ma Lau Jai.”

He huffs at that, before you warn him, “Now hold onto the bark, as I'm jumping back to your side. It'll shake the tree.”

You laugh as Gale immediately puts down his half-eaten apple and does as you say. “I'm holding on,” he affirms, voice steady, if not a bit strained from anticipation.

You bend your knees and swing your arms for momentum as you channel your Ki. With a confident leap, you catch his branch with a firm grip. His eyes widen slightly at your shameless flaunting of athletic prowess. The leaves of the tree shudder from the impact, and a few fall to the ground below.

Climbing up, you settle besides him and brush a few leaves off his head, before stroking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

He huffs despite his softening gaze. “I thought humility was supposed to be a monk’s ideal. Ma Lau Jai, indeed.” His lips purse slightly, tasting the foreign syllables.

“Human, monkey, same difference. Or imagine if monkeys could be monks! We'd be out of business!” You gasp in feigned concern.

He surrenders into a fit of laugher. “Now that’s a thought. A monkey monk, enlightening humans and animals alike.” He continues to chuckle, shaking his head. “I doubt anything could compete with the wisdom of a creature that can both climb trees and recite scripture.”

"Yeah, or imagine an eagle wizard, like the ones we saw on top of the Rosymorn Monastery, combining magic, intelligence, and beast like aggression. I'd hate to get on their bad side."

“Oh yes.” He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “As if the world needs more spellcasters with a penchant for destruction and hoarding treasure.”

You catch onto the moment and lean into him. “No, it does not. The world needs more kindhearted wizards like you.”

Surprised by your sudden display of affection, a smile, slightly wistful, finds his lips. “And the world is all the better with kindhearted monks like you in it.” He turns to face you more fully and places a hand on yours. He gently squeezes it, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“Stop right there, my love,” you wink, “or we'll have to figure out how to make love on a tree, in mid-air.”

He grins, a blush blossoming on his cheeks. “Oh, a menace you are, tempting me like this.” He tries to shuffle closer, a nearly impossible task on the narrow branch.

You cannot resist the challenge. You dart out your tongue to take his earlobe into your mouth and nibble on it. Your hand slips to his inner thigh and gives it a firm squeeze. His eyes flutter closed as he groans in pleasure, legs widening to give you space.

The apple on his lap rolls off. It falls all the way down, and after a few seconds, hits the ground with a soft thud. Gale stiffens, startled.

You stop him before he panics. “I'll have you know, I do have experience doing it on a tree. And if you adhere to my words, I can make you reach your peak on top of here.”

For a moment neither of you say anything. You watch as a million thoughts course through Gale’s face before it settles into aroused determination. He swallows his hesitation and nods his consent.

Unsurprising, given this man’s propensity towards danger-inspired desires.

“Lean back against the bark. Open your thighs and straddle the branch.” You direct, and he follows dutifully, settling into the steadier position. “Now, stay still, my dear wizard,” you tease. “Or you might fall down.”

A shudder runs through Gale’s body. “I'll... try my best,” he murmurs, his head lolling back against the bark of the tree as his hands reach back to grip it tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort.

“That's my boy.” You turn towards him and straddle the branch as well, before rewarding him with an open-mouthed kiss. He reciprocates hungrily and groans deeply into your mouth as your hand slips under his robe to palm his groin. The adrenaline in his veins is your ally here, and you chuckle at how eager his body responds to you. You decide, then and there, that this morning is about his pleasure. With some fumbling you manage to open the front of his trousers and release his hardening length.

You start to stroke him, savoring his increasingly ragged breaths as you trail kisses along his neck. “Do you like this? Hiding here among the leaves, knowing that people below have no idea what kinds of naughty things are happening right above their heads?” You drawl, lips brush against his skin with every syllable.

Gale pulls back slightly to stare into your eyes,his eyes dark and wide. “You're absolutely maddening, you know that?”

“You gave me a mind-blowing night of astral sex. I'm only returning the favor, monk-style." You wink, then use your free hand to pinch his nipple through his robe.

“Gods,” he gasps, his fingers digging deeper into the bark as he tries to stay still and keep balance. You almost applaud as he manages to squeeze out a retort. “In all my years of study, I don’t recall ever coming across anything with ‘monk’ and ‘sex’ in the same sentence.”

“Oh, my darling wizard,” you now focus on torturing his sensitive tip as you assert in an authoritative tone, “many people have the misconception that monks are prudish about sex. Not true at all. We just do it where you can't see.”

Your master would have knocked you on the head and sentenced you to clean the toilet alone for an entire year for making that up, but he is not here, and Gale is far too gone to challenge your bullshit. Your words send a shiver down his spine, and he whimpers, forcing himself still to receive the pleasure you are drowning him in.

How delicious.

“You are doing great, my love, staying so still and pliant for me. Now, if you hold on for a while longer, I may be able to suck you off."

Gale has given up conversing with you, which is a victory in itself. He takes a deep, shaky breath as he sits a bit straighter, his muscles taut.

You lower your head to give him a long lick as he watches helplessly.

A strangled moan is torn out of him. He shudders as you suck on his tip for an extra bit of pre-cum, before swallowing him whole. You manage to steady yourself by clenching the branch with your thighs as you bob your head in fervor, your free hands holding his base and fondling his balls respectively. With this combined effort the man is now a babbling mess, his praises and pleas mixed into nonsense, a sweet melody that urges you on.

Soon, you cannot resist grinding against the branch, the heat between your legs overwhelming. Sensing the shift of movement, Gale opens his eyes slightly and murmurs the beginning of an incantation, but you stare him down. “Sit back and allow me.” You warn before swallowing him whole again, sinking him back into the sea of lust.

Both of you are sweaty and glimmering under the morning sun now. His thighs shivering as his balls slip from your hand, pulling him closer to his release. You grip his ass possessively and he keens, as nothing arouse this man more than being wanted, loved.

"That's right, come for me."

In one swift motion his throbbing length hits the back of your throat. Fighting back the urge to gag you increase your speed, and your thumb finds its way below his scrotum, pressing firmly to hit his prostate.

He comes with a desperate shout. His back arches, his grip on the bark so tight that you worry a nail might break. A stream of heat fills your mouth, and you still your movement to both spare him from overstimulation and to savor your fruit of labor.

When he slowly recovers from his peak, heaving, you sit straight and watch him with silent pride. But before you can swallow, Gale surprises you by letting go of his lifeline-bark and pulls you in for a deep kiss, opting to taste himself in your mouth. As your tongues dance his spent dribbles down your chin, and he breaks the kiss only to lick it off, before urgently sealing your lips once more.  

A moment later, he whispers against you. “You... you are... incredible...” he gasps as he tries to catch his breath, voice still ragged from ecstasy.

"Why thank you." You rest your forehead against his. In a loving manner, you buckle his trousers and tidy his disheveled hair, coaxing a contented sigh from him. The man is still coming back from the experience, and you wait with a patient smile on your face.

Eventually, you beckon him closer. “Now, darling, let me tell you a secret.”

“Yes, my love?” He leans in, curious.

You flash him the brightest grin. “The most difficult part about climbing a tree is figuring out how to get down.” You say in one breath before pushing yourself off the branch, jumping to catch another, and swinging your way down. His dumbfounded face now etched into your memory.

“Wait, that's it?! That's your secret?” he exclaims, voice muffled by the distance. “How to get down from a tree? Love, we're 50 feet in the air!”

You know your clever wizard can figure this mystery out once he finds his wit again. You, for one, can’t wait to taste his revenge.

THE END

Notes:

Little Monkey—Ma Lau Jai—is Cantonese. It also refers to someone witty, playful, energetic, and generally a menace.

More Cantonese Tav & Gale: Here

[missgavi]

can you a gavi x reader where they “ meet “ at a party and fall in love drunk and exchange numbers and that but once they were sober the next day realized who they were talking to over the phone ? if that makes sense :)

yes yes yes yeeeees

pulling away from the kiss for some air, with a look of daze you smile up at the boy who just had his lips against your. he smiles back, one of his hands reaching out to caress your cheek. 

just as you’re about to dive back in, one of the friends you came with runs over to the two of you. “y/n honey, so sorry to interrupt you and your ... friend” she says with a cheeky smile towards you “but Sara’s missing, we can’t find her anywhere around the club and we need your help to find her and take her home. Again, sorry to come in between you two but this is serious” 

she was right, this was serious. you and your friends had a pact, you come together, you leave together. rarely are exceptions made. your friend leaves and you look up at the boy, his hands low on your hips and his lips still bruised from yours. “I’m so so sorry, but I have to help my friend” 

At your apologetic tone, the boy lifts his hand up to your cheek to caress it once again. “hey don’t worry, it’s fine. go help your friend out. here” he reaches out for your phone which you had in your back pocket and opens the phone app. 

He types in some numbers before giving it back to you “text me tomorrow ?” 

You were too caught up in the feeling of his hands still on you and his confident attitude that you can barely get out an “mhm” 

The boy chuckles before leaning down for one final kiss “mhm ?” You meekly nod before saying your goodbyes and go to search for your friend. 

__________________

After some final words of encouragement you man up and dial the guy from last night. You wanted to scream when you realised you didn’t catch his name and the only thing you had in your phone app was “chico guapo del club” cocky right ? 

Two dials later a breezy voice answers “Y/n, wondered when you’d call” he says, confidence radiating in his voice. Laughing to yourself you respond “wish I could greet you but someone neither gave me their name nor did they put it in my phone” you playfully accuse him earning a breathy laugh. 

“How about I take you out ? maybe then I’ll actually give you my name” 

You agree and once the time and place is set you hop in the shower and start getting ready. Once you were all dolled up you lock your door and make your way over to the little cafe you were supposed to meet him at. 

Arriving there first, you sit down and just as you were about to text him you got there you spotted Pablo Gavi somewhere far way from the cafe you were at, walking in that direction. 

Instead of texting, you pull your eyes away from the footballer and call your date. “Quick question , are you FC Barcelone fan ?” you ask, trying not to look at Gavi.

A beat passes before he replies “Let’s say so, why ?” 

“Okay, don’t freak out but Pablo Gavi is in the same area as our cafe so I suggest you get here as fast as possible” 

Too busy with the man on the other line, you don’t even register the person standing next to you. it isn’t until you hear the same voice both in the speaker and next to you. “You don’t say” 

Looking up , you see the Pablo Gavi standing next to you, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. Hanging up the phone, you look up at him and what’s the first thing that you say ?

“Oh fuck you” 

Your response caught Gavi off guard and made him laugh “Fuck me ? Why ? I mean, I get why, you’ll get to do that later but why ?” 

Standing up, you playfully nudge him “How dare you not tell me you are the Pablo Gavi ?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

Pablo smiles as well, leaning down to kiss your cheek before sitting down across you and waving the waiter over. After ordering , he turns to you “I did tell you, last night” You stare confused at him “Oh , you mean you don’t remember when i told you I play for Barca and you very confidently stated you could ,in your words, wipe the field with me ?” he repeats your words from last night, amusement evident in his voice. 

Blushing, you shy away “hey, In my defence i was drunk okay ? now stop making fun of me” 

“ why would I ? you’re cute when you blush” he says , another smirk planted on his lips before taking a sip on his drink. 

“I hate you” you mutter, a huge smile still visible on your lips. 

“no you don’t” 

[sillysickfics192]

super smash bros

is aged them up just a teeny bit so tyler can drive

Tyler was ready for the school day to be over. It had dragged on long enough, and sitting in eighth period, he was bored out of his mind.

His phone buzzed

Finally something interesting,

a text from Aiden appeared on the screen.

“hey man can you give me a ride home”

Okay, not as exciting as he had hoped, but at least he’d get to spend some time with his friend after school. 

“yeah sure, what’s the occasion?” Tyler knows that Aiden and Ben usually walk home, even on days like today, when Ben stays after school for his session with the guidance counselor. Usually Aiden would just venture the almost a mile walk home easy breezy, so something was off about this.

“nothing just don’t feel like walking home today”

Aiden replied, no punctuation as usual.

“alright. are you feeling okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“okay, meet me by the side door and we can walk out to my car together.”

“👍”

And with that, it was back to the boringness of eighth period.

-

Taylor waited for Aiden by the door they planned to meet at, scrolling on instagram.

As Aiden approached, he noticed something was off. Aiden’s skin was pale and clammy, and his smile seemed dull today.

“Hey Ty, no Taylor today?”

“Nope, she’s got robotics. You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good, and I’m not just trying to call you ugly.”

“Let’s just get home.”Aiden mumbles through clenched teeth.

When Tyler unlocks the door, Aiden hops into the passenger seat, relaxing into the cushion. Tyler starts the car, turning the vents toward Aiden, who had been fanning himself on the way over.

Before pushing the gas, Tyler reached a hand to Aiden’s forehead.

“Fuck dude, I think you’re sick, you’re literally so hot.”

“You think I’m hot? Thanks man.” Aiden mumbled sarcastically, as if he didn’t already realize he was sick.

“So that’s why you wanted a ride?”

Aiden nodded, closing his eyes and listening to the peaceful hum of the a/c, trying to drown out the pounding of his head and rising nausea

Tyler pulled out of his parking spot, typing Aiden’s address into the gps. He was glad he didn’t have baseball today, it would’ve been bad to make the poor fevered boy next to him walk home.

They got about three minutes down the road, before Tyler watched Aiden’s face somehow lose even more of its color.

“Aiden are y-“

Aiden cut him off. “Pull over.”

“This is kinda a bad spot for that, assuming your about to puke, there’s a plastic bag with some of Taylor’s random shit in it, just dump that stuff on the ground and use that.”

Aiden didn’t need to be told twice, quickly doing as he’s told and snatching the bag off the ground, with little care for whatever is inside. 

Tyler focused on the road, trying to ignore the sounds of Aiden’s vomit splashing into the bag. Tyler is what some might call, emetophobic. He doesn’t have it bad, but hearing Aiden puking up his guts next to him is making his breaths quick and his hands shake on the steering wheel.

The heaves started to get smaller, although still as gross if not grosser, especially when one wave brought with it a harsh wet cough or burp. But by the time they arrived at Aiden’s, he had finished vomiting, taking shallow breaths and holding the almost full warm bag of puke in his hands. When Tyler pulled up, Aiden was quick to exit the vehicle and rush to the front door, fumbling for his house key. He was ready to dispose of the bag of vomit in his hand. Tyler followed close behind.

“Aren’t you going home?” Aiden asked, unlocking the door.

“Of course not. I can’t just leave you here sick like this.”

“But clearly you don’t handle throwing up very well, and something tells me I’m going to be doing more of that today.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s what friends do, right?”

“Whatever you say. Don’t feel like you have to stay if me being sick like this freaks you out too much or whatever.”

“It’s okay. Now let’s get you to bed.”

They climbed up the steps, Aiden holding onto Tyler for some support, his legs felt weaker than ever.

Once Tyler was sure Aiden had everything he needed, he stepped out of the room to call Ashlyn.

It rang twice before she answered.

“Hey Tyler, what’s up?”

“Hey Ash, would you mind coming over to Aiden’s? He’s sick and you’re the only other person who’s not busy right now, I don’t think I can handle him by myself.”

“Is he that much of a handful?”

“Not really, I’m just kinda afraid of vomit. Think you can help?”

“Yeah sure. But just fyi, I have no idea how to take care of someone sick.”

“Just leave the rest to me.”

-

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. Ashlyn waits at the door, let in by Tyler and led up to Aiden’s bedroom. The room has a couch, where the two waited for Aiden to wake up. Tyler has had plenty of experience taking care of sick people. He always takes care of Taylor and his mom when they get sick, especially after his dad’s passing. Tyler has already taken Aisen’s temperature (101, which he should keep checking in case it goes up and he needs to take him to the hospital.), one of the first steps when someone gets sick. Now, he just needs to make sure Aiden is hydrated, taking the proper medications, and eaten when he is ready.

Speaking of which, he should probably get to work making Aiden something to eat. He searched the kitchen for ingredients, finding just enough ingredients for a couple servings of noodle soup. He’s not a great cook, but he can easily follow a recipe on his phone.

Ashlyn sat around, feeling useless. That is, until the sound of frantic footsteps above her, telling her Aiden is awake.

“I’ll go check on him” She told Tyler, who was busy with the soup. 

She speed walked up the stairs, unsurprised to find that Aiden was getting sick again. Tyler had left a bucket for him on the nightstand, but Aiden seemingly had tried to make it to the bathroom, but obviously didn’t get there on time. Aiden’s shirt had vomit down the front, and a puddle was forming on the floor. Ashlyn grabbed the bucket and handed it to Aiden, leading him to sit down in his desk chair. Aiden tried to speak between mostly dry heaves now.

“Ash? When- when did you-“ he was cut off by his own gags.

“Shh. Just get it up. Tyler called me since he’s not good around vomit.”

Aiden nodded in understanding through the dry heaves. 

“Aiden I don’t think you have anything left to bring up. Drink some water, I’ll clean this up.”

Aiden wanted to argue against her cleaning up his mess. But he knew he couldn’t do it himself, not without getting sick again. So he trudged back to his bed and let Ashlyn handle it.

Ashlyn cleaned up the mess, which was really gross, but had to be done. It took about ten minutes, in which Aiden had still not fallen back to sleep.

“I can’t sleeeep.” he groaned.

“You have been sleeping for a while already. Maybe come downstairs with me? Tyler is making soup, it should be ready soon.”

Aiden grabbed his blanket off of his bed, wrapping himself up like a cloak over his head, making Ashlyn giggle. 

They carefully went down the stairs. Greeting Tyler in the kitchen.

“Hey germy, you sleep well?” Tyler said, barely looking up from his pot.

“More or less.” he responded, his voice groggy

“Well, your soup will be ready soon. You like chicken noodle?”

“Definitely. I’m starving.”

“That’s good to hear. It’ll be done in around fifteen minutes. Go get comfortable on the couch and wait.”

Aiden didn’t need to be told twice to sit down, his limbs feeling like mush.

“Oh and Ashlyn? Take his temperature.” Tyler called from the kitchen.

Ashlyn grabbed the thermometer, feeling the heat radiating off of the boy before the thermometer told her anything.

“It’s about the same.” she said after it beeped.

Aiden nodded, feeling bored out of his mind.

Ashlyn must have sensed this, because she suggested they play a video game, sitting down next to Aiden, who agreed.

They open Super Smash Bros, and picked out their characters Ashlyn as Yoshi and Aiden as Bowser. 

As soon as the round started, they focused in on smashing the buttons, attacking each other. Aiden seemed to know all of the combos and tricks, while Ashlyn was mindlessly smashing buttons, yet still winning.

Aiden however, did some kind of super move, making a comeback and winning just before the round ended.

“Haha! In your facceeee! Even when I’m sick I still dominate smash bros!”

“Yeah yeah whatever. Round 2?”

They continued to play like this, Aiden winning continuously until his food was ready. Tyler unfolded a couple tv trays, and they all sat on the couch eating their soup. Tyler put on Aiden’s favorite spider-man movie. (The first Andrew Garfield one) And they peacefully watched the movie and slurped their soup. Once he finished his soup, Aiden scooted towards Ashlyn, resting his head on her shoulder, and falling back asleep.

🫶

request are open!

[cosmic-nebula356]

I just wanna ramble about my Natsu’s clothing for a bit

☀️ All I could think of when making his was how I wanted it to fit in the color and theme of summer. I know for certainty I want the fabric to be silky and thin enough since I headcannon the kits living in separate realms that are split in the four seasons, I picture the clothing in the summer clan to be thin and breezy so that it can accommodate the summer Kitsune’s, while not making them sweat too much. Thus why his front is more exposed, it’s just to keep him from sweating.

☀️ While I’m on it, my goofy ass failed to realize too late how much Natsu’s clothes looked like Fuyu unfortunately😭 but oddly enough in my lore for the kits, I actually found it to be fitting in some odd way, since Fuyu will be the one mentoring him, raising him, and subconsciously wanting for Natsu to be like him since he saw a lot of himself in Natsu. While I do plan on altering/updating Natsu’s attire in the future, I am pleased with this happy accident.💖

actually, I wanna just ramble about how I picture the other kits clothing and how I picture them working.

❄️ Right if the bat, Fuyu, straight up cotton material. More thicker, and I like to picture it’s made out of cotton that is smooth to the touch. He covers up to keep himself nice and toasty, since he is still a warm blood at the end of the day. Yet on rare occasions will show off more skin (I.e his rpg outfit. I don’t count his kimono outfit as I feel like it’s just kissing the layer underneath the top layer). The winter clan are known for their artistic side, so I find it fitting that for them, they focus more on the patterns on their clothes, as well as just bundling up a lot more if they shift in their human forms. 100% I see the Winter clan definitely using the those fluffy collar things around their shoulders and sleeves. I am dying to draw Fuyu in one, it just feels more fitting as well as a reference to his fox form that has lots of fluff on him still.

🌸 Nah he’s wearing his clothes like that on purpose. As spring is between summer and winter, I imagine the material used would be something of that of silk. Not too cold, and not too hot. Hell, I even imagine in the spring clan, it’s actually considered normal to wear skimpier types of clothing out and about. I’m talking about the ones that expose shoulders, chests, and legs. Men going around showing off their buff chests, and ladies walking around with their cleavage. All in the name of attractiveness. As for the thickness of fabric… umm… honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if it was thin on purpose.

🍁 Aki’s clothes are something I picture being both of cotton and silk. While he wears a short sleeved top, he is keeping his legs warm with leggings it would appear. Being between summer and winter yet again, I think it’s safe to say that they would wear just the half amount of clothes a winter kit would wear. Just silk and cotton. Yet enough to keep them warm, and not too much. Mildly thick in the fabric department. While on the topic of fabric, I’d like to think that even the Autumn clan uses the fuzzy fluffy stuff on their clothes too. Just something to keep them warm during those colder days in the Autumn realm.

❄️🍁☀️🌸

[jillsandwhichs]

Cleon - Oneshots/AUs Fanfiction, Chapter 2, Being a good girlfriend

Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Redfield & Leon Kennedy

Summary: Claire drops of Leons lunch to him at work

Status of their relationship in this oneshot: Dating

WC: 2.6k

Type: Sfw

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Thank you

Claire was standing on the white, decorated balcony, her fit arms resting on the railing as she sipped her sweet jasmine tea. Gazing off into the distance, and listening in on the sounds of nature, Claire felt at peace. Seeing the birds fly on by, along with their adorable chirping noises. Even hearing the cars in the distance go by at a rapid pace. It all felt so lively.

The sky seemed gloomy today, full of clouds with a grey, dark tint to it, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume rainfall was on it's way. The contrast from the breezy cool air to the emitting heat radiating off of Claire's mug, due to the tea, was relaxing as well.

It wasn't very often Claire was able to enjoy the little things in life. Her entire life was based around Terrasave and everything that comes with it, but being able to take time off for herself was important, and she knew that. Claire is very into self-care and the benefits that it provides.

A clearer mindset, a better headspace, positive attitudes and all the goodies it comes with, and right now, Claire felt calm, content and overall, just happy. It wasn't just due to commiting to self-care, it was also the people in her life.

Sherry, Chris, Jill, and everyone else, they all meant so near and dear to her, it's a shame it has been so long since she last seen them, especially her brother, Chris, he's always off doing his own thing with the BSAA, he never has time to spend with Claire or anybody for that matter.

But best of all, Claire's most favorite person, is her boyfriend, Leon. He was one of her main sources of motivation. He provided her that stride she needed to accomplish each goal that came day by day. He was her reason to wake up and get out of bed each day. Leon is and always will be her everything.

The mere thought of Leon made Claire feel elated.

Turning around, and sliding open the screen door that lead back into the apartment, Claire wandered back inside, sipping the last few drops of her tea before carefully placing the mug into the empty sink, water droplets still visible on the sides and bottom of the sink from when Claire did the dishes earlier that morning.

The apartment was silent, minus the distant sound of the fan in Leon's bedroom and the small drips of water occasionally hitting into the sink. Claire doesn't like silence, she doesn't feel safe when it's this quiet.

Grabbing the TV remote, Claire turned it on and began to scroll through channels before landing on some random reality show, she turned the audio up and tossed the remote to the couch, walking into the kitchen again.

Candle light emitted from the kitchen, the scent was 'Mahogany Wood', one of Leon and Claire's favorites, they always had it lit. Inhaling the nature-like smell, Claire walked towards the candle and picked it up, the heat instantly burning her soft-touched finger tips.

"Fuck... I'm stupid." Claire sighed to herself, shaking her hand, as if to shake away the sting.

Ambling to the refrigerator, Claire opened it and began to eye down the produce and protein within it, wanting to make herself a quick and easy lunch. She contemplated making avocado toast, or maybe even oatmeal, but she was never to sure and besides, she's indecisive.

Whilst looking though, Claire realized something. Leon had forgotten his lunch, and his break was soon. The man didn't even eat his breakfast, so he's bound to be starving. "Why are you so forgetful." Claire giggled to herself, grabbing the tub from the fridge and placing it on the counter.

Leon packs his own lunches, and in his, he put a sandwich, an apple and for some reason, doritos, he was so random. "None of this is really even healthy, why do men just toss things in a container and call it a meal?" Claire groaned aloud, tossing the doritos to the side, along with the sandwich, but left the apple in there, she wouldn't completely ruin his 'masterpiece' of a lunch.

Turning around from the island counter, Claire re-opened the fridge and grabbed out some strawberries and a banana, putting them on the counter. She then strolled over to the sink and grabbed a knife from the strainer. Claire made the decision to cut up some strawberries and bananas for his side dish, along with making him a much more healthy sided sandwich.

Placing the banana onto the chopping board, Claire began to fully cut the fruit into thin slices, once she finished off the banana, she dropped the fruit into a container. Cutting the strawberries next, she threw the leafy tops off into the trash bin and made sure they were pristine without any bugs or dirt.

After she finished up with the side, she grabbed out some turkey slices and whole wheat bread, and made a quick sandwich, but it was made with love, of course. Leon always preferred turkey over ham, so Claire is happy she remembered that minute thing about him, maybe it was important after all.

"There, he'll like that." Claire mumbled to herself, pulling her flip phone out and shooting Leon a message, letting him know she'll be on her way to drop off his lunch.

"Hi! I seen you left your lunch here at home so I'm gonna come by and drop it off, okay? Love you!" Claire messaged, sending it after typing it out. It took a moderate amount of time to do so though because of how texting works through a flip phone.

Grabbing the tupperware, Claire shoved it into her red leather purse, clipping the bag shut. Whilst walking towards the door, Claire turned off the smart TV. She then opened the black door, locking it behind her. The apartment complexes hallway was compact, multiple doors on each side of it. It is the most pricy complex in the city so it makes sense it's so packed full, but Claire didn't mind, wherever Leon goes, she goes.

The elevator doors slid open and Claire stepped in, standing beside a man who was in a black and white suit. The apartment complex was full of business men like himself, it's part of the reason Leon lived here, it was near his work, and it's near a few multi millionaire companies. Although, the D.S.O is most likely worth the most, hell, you're working for the President of all people!

The elevator dinged as the doors opened up completely, Claire convoying out of them and heading out of the building and to her car. Claire spotted her small, grey car, it was parked on the side of the road, beside the crowd filled sidewalk. The neighborhood felt safe enough to leave it there, little to no crimes happened around here.

Claire clicked her keys, her car beeping then unlocking. Leon actually helped Claire pay for her car, since she can't get everywhere with just a motorcycle, although she wishes she could. Plopping down in the driver's seat, Claire put her purse down in the passenger seat, making sure it was tucked in enough to not fall off onto the floor of the vehicle.

Sticking her key into the ignition, the girl started her car up, heaving out as she heard it start up so cleanly. Her motorcycles were a lot louder, and much more sketchy to start up due to how old they were, she fears someday they'll stop running and she'll have to buy, or make a whole new one. Claire has somewhat built her own motorcycle, it's more complex than that though.

Once Claire was officially on the road, she turned the radio up, the song 'There she goes' by the La's began to play, it was one of Claire's favorite songs. Her brother, Chris, introduced it to her, he had impeccable taste in music.

He was also the reasoning behind Claire learning about the band, Queen, her and Chris have matching Queen jackets. In a series of unfortunate events, Chris did lose his. Claire still has both of hers though, she wears them on occasion.

Whilst driving, droplets of rain began to fall, hitting the windshield at a rapid pace. "I knew it'd rain." Claire muttered to herself, firmly tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Leon's place of work wasn't to far from the apartment, it was about ten minutes away, but with this traffic, it could take even twenty.

It looked earthy out. The dark green grass, fresh cool wind, and the misty air all came together and the rain blended in perfectly. Fall time was the best time, it was Claire and Leon's favorite. Leon had actually asked Claire to date him last fall, their one year anniversary was right around the corner. The girl had pondered on what they'd do for the special day.

Hearing a ringtone sound coming from her phone, Claire shot her head towards the passenger seat and began to dig her hand through her purse, needing to fetch it out in order to see whether it was Leon or not. She knows it's illegal and highly unsafe to use a phone while driving but in this case, Claire was willing to break the law for him.

Stopping at a red light, Claire opened her phone up and gave a content look at her phone when she seen the message, it read, "I hadn't even realized, thank you, my sweet girl. Love you too." Leon was the best. Claire closed her phone and tossed it back into her purse, gandering back up at the road.

-

Officially, Claire reached Leon's workplace, and parked her car in front of the building. The establishment had high security but Claire's already visited Leon at work countless times, so the more she visits, the less precautions the security tends to take.

"I'm here! Where are you? Come out to my car." Claire messaged Leon. Whenever she'd visit him on his lunch break, they would just sit in her car and chit-chat, it was the only way they could spend time together when he's working.

She pulled out his food from her purse and set it up on the dashboard, waiting to see him walk out of the double doors that lead to the exit. She had hoped he'd enjoy what she packed for him, deep down, she knows he will but even so, it's not what he had packed.

Claire still had the radio up, the song now playing was called 'Coney Island Baby', which is a pretty old song, but it's a goodie. Claire is a musical enthusiast, she wants to learn guitar someday just like her brother. Although, he can't play any other instrument, he can't read music...

As she was in her head, she didn't realize Leon had walked out until she heard a knocking sound on the passenger side window, turning her head, she seen Leon, a slight smile on his face. "Unlock the door." Leon spoke, his voice muffled due to him being outside.

Chortling, Claire hit the unlock button on her door and let Leon climb into the car. His hair and outfit was somewhat damp from the down pouring rain. "Hey." Leon whispered. "Hi." Claire smiled, leaning in to kiss him. Leon brushed his veiny hand against her cheek, giving her a quick smooch before pulling away. "Thank you for bringing me my lunch." "I'm not gonna let my boyfriend go hungry at work." Claire retorted.

"You're a good girlfriend." "I know." The girl snorted. Leon grabbed the plastic, clear container and placed it on the center console, unclipping it and seeing what was inside. "This isn't what I packed." He stated, confusion in his tone. "Yeah, sweetie, I hope you don't mind, your lunch was uh... Something else." She teased.

The man looked up with a smirk, "Thank you." Leon chuckled, kissing his cheek briskly before taking a bite of the turkey sandwich.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes as Leon ate, but Claire didn't mind, she was happy he was eating. The man needed to fuel his body, especially considering his line of work. "Is it good?" Claire questioned. "Very much so." Leon responded. "Good, good." Claire said, whilst rubbing his tense shoulder with her delicate hand.

The way Claire showed her affection was through actions and physical touch. It kind of all adds up. She brought him a lunch, her action, she's being physical with him, physical affection. Leon definitely shows his through words and physical affection. They're both very into physical touch, especially Leon.

"Looking back on it, packing dortitos and a sandwich like that wasn't even a lunch, thank you for this, sweetheart." Leon spoke, enamore in his voice. "You're welcome, Leon." Claire replied, drawing her head towards him and pushing her lips upon his, the passion between the two was noticeable. Leon breathed deeply as he pulled away, gazing into Claire's divine eyes.

"So, for dinner tonight, what would you like?" Leon asked. "I can swing by somewhere after work. Whatever you want, I'll get." He spoke again. Claire sat in thought for a second, before her lips curled into a small smile. "Chinese food... More specifically, orange chicken and lo mein!" She giggled. Chinese food was one of her favorites. "Your wish is my command." Leon laughed, finishing off his last strawberry.

Taking a strawberry between her fingertips, Claire put it up to Leon, trying to hold back her snickering. Leon smirked and bit the strawberry, maintaining eye contact with the woman just in front of him as he did so. "You're cute." Claire spoke with an honest tone. "Says you." Leon retorted, causing Claire to roll her eyes.

Leon placed his hand on Claire's before speaking, "I have to get back to work." The man sighed, clearly dreading that factor. "I know." The girl expired, leaning her head onto the head rest of the driver's seat, staring into Leon's eyes. "I'll see you soon, ok?" He added, brushing some of her brunette hair behind her adorable ear. "See you sweetie." Claire mumbled.

"Don't be such a downer." Leon whispering, giving her one last final peck on her forehead before opening the door and stepping out, the rain had let up a bit. "I love you." He spoke. "Love you." She replied.

Claire studied Leon as he strided off, heading back into the building. Claire missed him already.

Divider Creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 THINKPIECE

sniper and why i love quiet guys

you ever look at a quiet guy in real life, like a regular dude, who’s minding his business, and impose all of your absolute worst thoughts on him and casually dismiss it with “the quiet guys are always like that”? (that might just be me i have anxiety)

well that’s why i love sniper.

and that’s why i love writing him.

yes, sure. i can turn him into that animalistic, brutal, feral bushman most love to imagine him as. i can write him as this guy who is cool, confident, smooth, and vicious. frankly, it’s one of my favorite ways to imagine sniper too! but really, as i’ve grown up and interacted with cool, confident, smooth, vicious men; i really like to imagine him as a dude. a dude with a good eye and a steady hand and a good head on his shoulders. who’s got what some would call “a lively job” and “interesting hobbies”. who’s doing his best to live a life that’s right by him.

snipes kinda reminds me of my brother? a good natured guy at the end of the day, but just very quiet. he doesn’t reach out often, and while he does expect you to reach out, it’s okay if you don’t. it’s not going to make him feel a type of way unless you miss something important. snipes, like my bro, and frankly like myself, were raised to be independent. self reliant. but snipes, also like my bro, and unlike myself, has a much greater self awareness about the amount of socialization he needs to feel mentally sane.

i do stand on the opinion that sniper is the most mentally sane person on the team.

sniper is a guy you are most likely to hit if you threw a rock in a crowd. and you probably wouldn’t give him more than a passing apology. he is not an insane super-genius. his roommate is not a wizard. he’s not a wiz with tech, or explosives. not a super suave frenchman with weird disguise tech. and he’s not big enough to haul around 350 pounds with ease. hell, he barely knows his gun well enough to maintain it. he’s a dude with a gun and great aim.

he’s a guy who likes to talk shit to his friends over a beer. he’s a guy who can pick his fights, and tries to keep himself in situations that don’t have him at disadvantages. he’s a guy who’s man enough to stand down, or get support when he needs it. he’s a guy someone can count on, themselves! he’s a solitary man who understands his need for socialization. he’s an average guy who stumbled his way into greatness.

snipes is a guy who is an ever-changing product of his environment. and he controls his environment carefully. he is a man who can be swayed, but not easily. a man who likes the most basic knowledge of both sides to make his decision. and snipes, like anybody, needs recognition. he needs recognition that he is doing his best and it’s appreciated. not all the time, but he’s gotta hear it. because when he does, he gets better. quicker on the draw, faster on the pickups, more social, more breezy, more competitive, willing to take bigger risks, just to see if he can. and it’s easier to take failure with a friend laughing with you.

it’s kinda my favorite thing about sniper, and the way in which i think about him!

sometimes quiet guys are freaks and weirdos, yes. but most of the time they are just guys. guys with families they love. and friends. and hobbies they enjoy. foods they hate. goals they want to achieve. dreams they gave up on. things they are not good at. a couple of things they’re great at. and they do their best to make sure their strengths are helping the people around him, and try to let their friends and their support system make up where they lack.

guys like sniper are a rare breed. but they’re everywhere, at the same time.

i love sniper. and i love guys like him.

i hope they keep on keeping on!