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jarofstyles · 8 months ago

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Buttercream

Hello my loves! This is the first part to our Patreon exclusive series, Buttercream. The ready is available on Patreon (over 18 parts) and is still being updated. You all asked to see what’s available to read and I’m giving you sneaks of it!

A series featuring an Alpha Architect Harry, a bossy bakery owning omega Y/N, the sweetest treats taste tested and some steamy smut.

Check out our Patreon for all parts of the series and 150+ exclusive writings.

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The smell kept him coming back.

In his life, Harry had been to a quite a few bakeries. He could be considered an expert on fudge brownies, a specialist on cupcakes and the swirls of icing, a connoisseur of croissants. He treated himself a bit too often, if his mother had anything to say with it. His sweet tooth had always been prevalent in his life.

The new bakery down the road from his job, though? That had made him a true problem.

Every day before work, he stopped. Suit and all, pulling into the parking lot and nearly drooling the moment he got out. His feet carried him towards the door and the smell hit him immediately. Sweet buttercream, frothy vanilla, spiced cinnamon, and… something else. That something else that had him nearly vibrating, and now on a mission to have the whole menu to figure out just what the hell that scent was.

It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. If Harry didn’t have work, he would spend hours just sitting here to smell it. It had a weird hold on him, and he didn’t quite know how to ask if it was an air freshener. That was unlikely for anywhere but restrooms anyways considering how offensive it could be for the noses of alpha’s and omegas alike. A bad scented one could send them into moods. Or even sickness. The sense of smell was very important.

“Mr.Styles.” The teen manning the cash register saluted him. He came in every day and was known to the cashiers, so he had ruled out it being one of them. Thank god. They were either young enough to not have a scent or too old for it to be possible. “What will it be today? Y/N’s been whipping up a storm for the holidays. New recipes. We’ve got a peppermint bark brownie that would go well with the peppermint mocha you like.” She chirped, watching as he scanned the cases.

Harry was a little intimidating but he was exceptionally charming. He smiled, he conversed, he tipped well, but he always seemed to be looking around. Trying to find something that no one could really place. The bakery was empty besides a mum and her friend with their kids, munching on treats and coffee as they watched the traffic go by. It wasn’t them. Harry’s ears did perk up when he heard an unfamiliar name.

“Y/N?” He asked, tilting his head as his attention went back to the cashier. “Who’s that? The owner?” Harry had never met the owner. For some reason, every time he came in the morning she had stepped out for her own break. It didn’t bother him so long as his compliments to the baker got passed along, but hearing her name stirred something in his chest.

“Yep.” She popped the p in her word. “She’s awesome. She started this all on her own after she went viral on the internet. She got the funds from online orders. You see the custom cakes and stuff but she does awesome experimental flavors. She doesn’t care if they’re hits or misses and let’s us go home with leftovers.” There was obvious pride to be working for someone like Y/N. It peaked his interest.

“Oh?” He asked, leaning his body against the counter. “That’s incredible. I’d be very happy to taste some of the new things.” He flashed a smile, tapping his card against the wood of the counter. “What would you think Y/N would suggest?” And why did saying her name make him feel silky and hot? Like it was meant to live on his lips? They tingled as the word left his mouth, making him shift his stance slightly. His skin was buzzing slightly as he heard someone else come from the back.

“She would suggest the peppermint bark brownies, the s’mores donut, the lemon cream cookie and the chili chocolate cupcake. Spice and sweet work surprisingly well together.” The airy voice went to his bones.

Harry could smell it fully now. The scent that laced the bakery was now engulfing him. Filling the space, making him inhale it with each breath. His hand tightened on the card, curling into a fist at his side as he caught a glimpse of her. She had been the source. It wasn’t a baked good or a cashier, but it was the baker herself that was making him addicted to the sweets laced with her scent.

He was silent as he observed her, a smile quirked on her lips. Slightly glossy and deliciously plump as she greeted the cashier with a simple hey and asking her to go to the back to grab the other new tray of cinnamon buns. Sliding them on to the rack, she used her hip to gently nudge the counter open and grabbed one for Harry.

“Here. On the house.” She slid the bag over to him with her soft simper, hands tapping on the wood.

She was marvelous.

Harry was speechless. Something he never usually was- the alpha could talk to a brick wall if he needed to- but this sweet little omega has been slowly hypnotizing him with her scent over the course of a month and now he was finally seeing her. He loved delayed gratification, a fan of edging, but this? He wished he had seen her far earlier.

“Hi.” He peeped. His face looked like he saw a ghost. The woman in front of him was like a mirage- and he wasn’t trying to be dramatic. He swore she was familiar to him in some way. Some how. She was all omega in the ways that called to him. The curve of her face and her soft voice… he could have started purring if he didn’t have some semblance of self control in his body.

“Hi.” She returned the greeting with a soft chuckle that heated his chest. “I hope you like the suggestions. I recognized your voice. You’ve been in here every morning we’re open and I figured it was about time to meet the loyal customer.” She chirped, brushing the stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. The adorably disheveled look added to her appeal.

A candy apple red apron was dusted with various baking material, tied around her waist snug. It showed the curve of her waist went deeper than what he could tell under her sweatshirt that appeared to have the bakery name printed on it. A swipe of flour was decorating her forehead, like she had wiped hair from her face and simply forgot about flour coated hands. Little details he was memorizing to think about later.

“I love the smell.” He blurted out. Immediately, he winced. That hadn’t been what he had meant to say, at least how he had meant to say it. Heat crept up further under his cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth, watching her giggle a bit as he tried to find his bearings.

“Fucking hell- I meant to say, I love your bakery. It smelled amazing when I went past it so I decided to stop in a few weeks ago and now it’s become a part of my daily routine. I bring in pastries for the office.”

“Aren’t you a star coworker.” She cooed, turning from him with a wink as she grabbed one of the red boxes and began to construct it. “They must love you at the office. I have on good authority that the one that brings the snacks, gets the pats on the back. Especially hand made, beautifully crafted baked goods.” She teased, opening up the case and beginning to place some sweets into it.

“I’d hope they like me. I’m their boss.” He laughed quietly, scratching the back of his neck. Never has he felt more like a schoolboy talking to a playground crush. He was head to toe in a suit good enough to meet his best clients, and a girl with flour on her face was sending him to his knees. Each time she moved, a gentle waft of her scent was given his direction and made that ever loved self control hang by a thread.

“Ooooo. Bossman.” She grinned, wiggling her brow as she placed another iced brownie with crushed peppermint bark sprinkled on top into the box. “Should have guessed. Love the suit, by the way. You look very handsome.”

That little compliment made his day. The pretty omega with the prettier smile and mouthwatering scent thought he looked handsome. That would be lingering in his brain all day. How she thought he was handsome. The casual compliments.

“Thank you.” He preened. “We do interior and exterior design for businesses. Up and coming places and remodels. So if you ever need a guy- I’m here.” He placed his hands in his pockets and lifted up on his toes rocking back and forth.

“Oooo. Is it that bad in here? Do I need a renovation?” She sucked her teeth, tilting her head. It had him freezing, mouth falling open to grovel. He hadn’t meant to offend her at all, hadn’t tried to insinuate it needed a remodel.

“Shit- no, I’m sorry. It’s very cute in here, I didn’t mean to insinuate it needed any help. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how it would sound-“

“Cool it, bossman.” She cooed, laughing at how he had nearly fallen over himself. “I’m just messing with you. The place does need some exterior work, actually. I hadn’t had the budget when we first started, nor the time. But I didn’t take any offense to it. You’ve got to market yourself. Don’t worry.” Her reassurance made him melt into relief, leaning into the counter. This whole encounter had him feeling a bit on edge in the weirdest way. He wanted to snuggle this woman, yet he was almost afraid of her. An omega. He was afraid of an omega.

Anyone else would laugh at him, perhaps, but he felt the nervousness creeping in his bones. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to think he was cool and want to know him better. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. She had unarmed his normal charm and made him feel like a nervous bundle of sweat and it was exhilarating.

“I’ll take a card, though.” She placed her hand out flat. “If you’ve got one. I’m gonna check out your website.”

Harry fished one out of his wallet, thankful he kept them on hand. It had his office number, and part of him wanted to offer his personal cell but he knew that would be a bit weird. Especially if she wanted to use his services. He almost hoped she didn’t- asking a client on a date wasn’t good for the image, was it? He wasn’t sure.

“If you’ve got any questions you can reach out on the email there, it’s a direct line to me- or uh, I come in every day so.” He shrugged. “Around this time. You’ve got very good coffee too. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good hazelnut. People put a lot of syrups and things… but your shop does it the best.”

“Thank you.” She seemed chuffed with his praise. “I taste test everything with the crew here. You’ll be in for a treat. If you’re coming in every morning, do you think you’d want to be a bit of a guinea pig for me?” She slid the box across the counter. “I’ve been experimenting like my lovely employee was saying. But I’d love a real customers opinion. Even if it’s bad. I want to know what the consumer likes.”

Harry was shocked. Y/N was kind of treating him like a friend, like she valued his exact opinion. He couldn’t deny he felt exceptionally special. Having not only the owner of the bakery but an omega he had some sort of crush on suddenly want to sample the new things she sells and get his opinion on it.

“Oh- uh. Alright. Of course! I can do that.” He grinned shyly, handing his card over for her to pay for the things she had put into the box. “I come in every morning during the week so… you can just let me know what’s new to taste.” There was a giddiness in his stomach. An excuse to talk to her every day. Or at least a few times a week. He’s never really reacted this way to an omega before, the scent craving, the shyness he suddenly felt, all of it was so new to him and he was unsure how to navigate it but he didn’t want to stop. He only wanted more.

“Perfect. What is your name, by the way?” The card was handed back to him and there was slight disappointment their fingers didn’t brush, but Harry took today was a victory.

“Harry. Harry Styles. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Y/N. I’m glad to meet you too. I hope to see more of you soon.”

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b-a-n-a-n-a-ss · 2 years ago

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Michael Emerson x reader - Over Eating

Summary: the reader has a bad day and binge eats her feelings while talking with Michael. She ends up over eating and Michael takes care of her.

Warnings: binge eating, self hatred, eating disorder.

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I wiped the tears from my eyes as I entered my house. Walking to my room, I stripped of my shirt and jeans. I threw them in my laundry bin and put on some shorts and one of Michael’s shirts.

I’ve had the most shitty day possible. First, I dropped my plate of breakfast on the floor and I didn’t have time to make any more. Then my car wouldn’t start so I had to walk to my job in the rain. I was wearing soaked clothes all day which didn’t help my mood improve. Then I kept getting cat called because my jeans were so tight on me. I also got chewed out by my boss because I yelled at a costumer for being bitchy. I also had to walk back home in the heat so my clothes were so irritating by being damp still. I was also exhausted.

I walked into my kitchen and jumped when I saw my boyfriend Michael sitting at the small dining table in my kitchen. He lifted his head and gave me a smile but soon frowned as he saw the tears on my face and the bags under my eyes. He stood from his chair and made his way over to me, embracing me in a hug. He cradled my head to his chest and rubbed my back with his other as I cried into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed it as I sobbed.

After a few minutes I pulled away from him lightly. He kissed my cheek and lips and wiped my tears with his thumbs.

“Do you want to talk about whats wrong?” He asked me as he searched my eyes for some sort of explanation. I shook my head and moved passed him to the fridge.

“No, I just need to eat some food. I didn’t get a lunch break.” I said. Yeah, I didn’t get a lunch break either. I got my leftover Chinese food and popped that into the microwave as I grabbed other foods I would eat. I wasn’t thinking about what would fill me up, I was thinking about eating away my feelings. Anything to get my mind off of this shitty day.

I grabbed potato chips, powdered donuts, pickles, small cakes, brownies and grapes. I put all that stuff on the table and grabbed two bottles of soda and gave one to Michael. The boy looked concerned as I placed big amounts of food onto the table. When the timer beeped for the microwave I brought my Chinese food to the table and then started to eat.

As I ate I completely forgot about everything. I forgot about all the crappy things that have happened to me that day and I even forgot Michael was there. I just ate. After I ate the grapes, Chinese food and powdered donuts I was stuffed. But I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop.

I just wanted to forget and be happy. I wanted to just be numb. After I finished the Potato chips, pickles and brownies I didn’t think I could eat anymore. But I still didn’t stop. I kept eating.

“Y/n baby. Please don’t hurt yourself.” Michael said as he gently tried to take the fork from my hand. I shook my head and hiccuped as I took the fork back and started to eat the cakes.

“I’m not.” I said in a angry tone. My stomach was aching and groaning, desperate for me to just stop. But I didn’t. I finished both of the cakes and downed the rest of my soda. I threw the fork on the table and laid my head in my arms. I felt my stomach churn and cold sweat drip down my forehead. And I cried. I sobbed actually.

Michael stood from his spot across from me and kneeled next to me. He rubbed my back and rested his other hand on my thigh. He kissed my bicep and tried to fight back his tears.

“Y/n, are you okay?” He asked me. I shook my head and bolted up from my seat and to the bathroom. I collapsed onto my knees and gagged in the toilet bowl. Michael followed behind me and kneeled beside me, rubbing my back and whispering sweet nothings to me. I was in agony and I knew it was my fault.

I finally managed to throw up into the toilet. The acid burning my throat and tears blending into my sweat. I gripped the toilet seat with white knuckles and sobbed. Michael grabbed a cloth and wet it. He gently cleaned my face then grabbed me a cup of water.

“Here, rinse your mouth out.” He said. I did as told and spit the water back into the toilet. He flushed my stomach remains and closed the lid. I looked at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with my lover. I was embarrassed and scared and in pain. My stomach let out a deep gurgle and I wrapped my arms around it. I curled up into a ball with my back facing Michael.

“Baby, it’s alright. Im here to help you. Im not mad or upset. I love you.” He explained to me and he gently ran his fingers through my sweaty hair and kissed my neck. I started to cry again and he turned my body around and hugged me. He was sitting on the ground now and gently rocking me back and fourth while moving my hair from my face and resting his hand on my aching stomach.

“It hurts Michael.” I groaned as I leaned into his chest and buried my face in his neck, hiccuping. Michael frowned and gently rubbed my stomach, making sure to give me a gentle and loving kiss to my temple. He rested his cheek on my head. I cried lightly into his neck and my stomach grumbled and churned. My stomach was bloated and rock hard, and it hurt.

“Do you want a bath baby?” Michael asked me as he pet my hair.

“I don’t want to be a bother.” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes and hiccuped. Michael kissed my head and lifted my head up by my chin to look at him.

“You won’t be a bother baby. I want to help you and take care of you.” He said and kissed my lips. I nodded and he gently stood up and started to draw a bath. He put the stopper into the tub and turned the hot water up before turning to me. He gently helped me stand up and sat me on the toilet lid.

“I’m gonna get you u dressed now okay.” He whispered to me as he took my shirt off gently and slowly. He threw my shirt into the dirty laundry bin in the bathroom and reached behind me to unhook my bra. He kissed my head as he slid my bra off of my chest and over my arms before it was fully off. He didn’t even think dirty thoughts I know it. He didn’t act in any sexual way when he saw my bare chest. He just focused on taking care of me.

He made me stand up and he slid my shorts down with my underwear and gently kissed my forehead. He gently sat me back on the toilet lid and made sure the water temperature was fine. He shook his hand free of water and stood back in front of me. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and moaned quietly and I leaned forward and rested my head against Michael’s stomach. He let my hair and scratched my back gently. I hiccuped again and looked up at my boyfriend.

“Let’s get you in the bath now. Do you still want to?” He asked me. I hummed in a response and he helped me stand and then into the bath. He helped me sit down and I sighed in pleasure as the warm water engulfed my body and helped my aching stomach.

“Do you want to soak for a little bit then I can clean you? Or do you want me to clean you first then just go cuddle in bed?” He asked me.

“Let me soak then clean me. Can we still cuddle after though?” I asked him as I looked up at him with soft and pain filled eyes. He kissed my lips softly and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Of course y/n, anything you want.” He whispered and gave me a smile. I smiled back at him lightly then looked down into the water at my stomach. It was bloated and you could tell. It made me feel self conscious. It made me think Michael wouldn’t love me anymore. Michael stood up to leave but I quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Please don’t leave.” I whispered with tears filling my eyes. He nodded and sat beside the tub, leaning his back against the wall. He held his hand out for me to grab and I grabbed it. He squeezed my hand and I swallowed thickly.

“I love you y/n.” He said.

“I love you too Michael.” I replied. I moaned as my stomach grumbled and I hiccuped. Michael was now keeling against the tub and rubbing my shoulder with one hand. He looked to my stomach and I felt my face grow red.

“A-are you gonna leave me?” I asked him through tears. His head snapped towards me and his face showed confusion.

“No. No of course not baby. I would never, why would you think that?” He asked me.

“B-because.” I cried as I looked towards my stomach. He looked at my stomach then slowly got what I was talking about. He cupped my face in his hands and dried my tears with his thumbs.

“Y/n I would never leave you because of your weight or your eating habits. I’m here to help you and I want to help you. I don’t care that you’re bloated, you’re still beautiful to me. You will always be. I love you.” He told me as he kissed my lips.

“I love you too.” I said. He smiled at me and kissed me once more.

“Alright let’s get you clean now. Then we can go and cuddle on your bed.” He told me. I nodded and watched as Michael grabbed two washcloths from my drawer and rolled his sleeves up. He dipped the cloth into the water and poured some body soap onto it. He scrubbed the cloth and suds filled the once clean fabric.

He started at my shoulders and scrubbed around my neck and back gently. He then scrubbed my chest and moved to my arms. He managed to scrub my legs and stomach without moving me and then he grabbed a cup of water. He dipped the cup into the water and poured it over my soap covered body. It felt good and he was gentle with me.

When he finished washing my body he moved to my hair. He filled the cup with water once more and leaned my head back gently. He covered my forehead with his hand and poured the water over my hair, soaking it. He did this a few times until he was sure my hair was wet enough for my shampoo. He filled his hand with soap then moved his fingers comfortingly through my hair. He scrubbed gently and massaged my scalp magically.

When he was finished he rinsed my hair again then got a small bit of conditioner and put it into my hair. The way his fingers moved so fluidly through my hair made me happy. He was so gentle with me and the way he scratched and rubbed my head as he spread the soaps felt amazing.

He let the conditioner sit for a few minutes. While it sat he kissed my lips and admired my face. He always told me how much he loves me and whenever I ask him he says his favorite part of me is my eyes. He loves their color and how bright they shine when I smile. He loves the way he can see right through them and see my real self. He loves me for me. And that makes me happy.

He rinsed my hair once more then grabbed three big towels from my cabinet and draped one onto the floor. He held out his hand for me to grab and I did. He gently pulled me out of the tub and wrapped my hair in a towel then my body. He puked the plug out of the drain and the water started to be sucked down the pipe.

He walked over to me and dried my body off. He was gently and sweet about this too. He went into my bedroom and grabbed me some clothes to wear. He set out my underwear and one of his shirt that I love. He helped me slide my underwear onto my body then dried my hair for me. He put his shirt onto my body then moved me to the sink.

He grabbed my blue brush and gently started to brush through my crazy hair. He didn’t pull or tug at areas he couldn’t get through, he was gentle and considerate of my pain. When he finished he applied my chapstick for me and then he led me to my bedroom. Michael pulled back the covers and I laid down onto my comfortable bed.

“I’m going to change baby, I’ll be right here okay.” He told me. I nodded and watched as Michael took off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in his plaid boxers. He set his clothes on my desk and moved to the other side of my bed. He climbed into it and covered us both up.

Michael pulled my body closer to his and kissed me. I snuggled into his chest and hiccuped once more. His hand moved to my shirt and he gently raised it up right under my boobs. He placed a warm and gently hand on my stomach and started to rub it in circles. I breathed out and relaxed in his embrace. My stomach gurgled and Michael kissed my head as he continued to rub and calm my stomach.

Michael rubbed my stomach the whole night and by the time I fell asleep he was still rubbing it. I was really grateful for Michael for helping me and being there. He was so sweet and kind and gentle. I loved that he was so caring and loving towards me.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x y/n #fluff #x reader #reader insert #y/n #michael emerson #the lost boys #tw disordered eating #over eating #soft #angst #care #Michael Emerson x reader

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ejzah · 1 year ago

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A/N: Happy Birthday 41st birthday to Kensi Marie Blye, ninja assassin and half of our favorite duo!

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The Best is Yet to Come

Even a few years ago, Kensi wouldn’t have imagined she’d be the lady with a backyard full of people and a table laden with summer snacks and drinks to celebrate her birthday. A few years ago, she wasn’t even sure she was ready to be a mom, yet here she was with her own home, Rosa playing catch with her boyfriend, and another two kiddos happily cooking away.

In some ways, life was more chaotic than ever. In others, she’d never felt more at peace and sure of the future and her decisions.

She saw Deeks in the corner where they’d set up the grill, watching over Sam’s shoulder with what she imagined was an amused grin. As expected, Sam had taken control of barbecue duties shortly after he arrived, ignoring Deeks’ insistence that he was a guest.

Patting Sam on the shoulder, Deeks headed back across the yard, directly towards Kensi.

“Hey, baby, can I get you anything?” he asked, once he was a foot or so away. She already had a strawberry mint lemonade and some fruit on the whicker table next to her chair.

“You know, I can walk,” Kensi reminded him with a smile. “These babies haven’t made me an invalid yet.”

“Yes, but as your husband, who can’t physically carry said babies, it feels like the least I can do.”

She tilted her head, touched by the offer. In the last two and a half months, Deeks had made it his personal mission to keep her well fed and pampered, on top of his normal tendencies. Sometimes she worried he would work himself ragged trying to manage everything, but other times she let him have his way.

“Well, in that case, I’d like two cookies,” she decided. Sneaking her hand into his, she tugged on his arm until he got the message and got down to her level. Deeks arched an eyebrow at her, warmth in his eyes as she stole a kiss. “And you.”

“You know what I always say, my Ladybird gets whatever she wants,” he said with a ridiculous wiggle of his eyebrows. He patted her thigh affectionately, rising with an agility that Kensi envied. She tilted her head, enjoying the view as he sauntered in the direction of the tables set up under a small tent.

A faint jerking in her stomach had her pressing both hands against her stomach. It was an odd sensation, but not painful or uncomfortable at this point. “Somebody’s got the hiccups again, huh?” Kensi said, directing her question to her stomach. As if in response, she felt a flutter on her left side.

“Uh-oh, who’s acting up this time? Donut or Croissant?” Deeks had returned, a plate in hand. He bent down to kiss Kensi’s stomach through her shirt, following it with a brush of his free hand. “Hey, give Mama a break there kids.”

“Pretty sure it’s Croissant,” Kensi told him. At first, she’d resisted Deeks’ pastry related nicknames, but ultimately decided it was better than the Shawarma Twins. Plus, it had kind of grown on her.

“Not even four months old and already causing trouble,” he joked. “That’s ok, your Mom and Dad are kind of troublemakers too, so you’ll be in good company.”

Kensi smiled down at him fondly. She loved how much he talked and interacted with the babies, sharing everything from his favorite music to daily encouragement and little stories.

“What did you bring me?” she asked, attention drifting to the plate again, which held an impressive tower of food.

“Well, I didn’t know what you and the Pastry Babies were in the mood for, so I got a little of everything. There’s classic chocolate chip, a mocha brownie Mama made—don’t worry, they’re decaf, lemon bars, and what I think is red velvet, but could be beet since Anna made them.” He pointed to each dessert as he listed them, offering Kensi the plate when he finished.

“Ooh, brownie please.” She broke it in half, handing Deeks the other piece, explaining when he raised any eyebrow in surprise, “ This way I can try all of them.”

“God, I love you,” he sighed with a massive grin. Together, they happily shared the treats, watching the antics of their guests. Callen had wandered over to Sam and by the look of it, providing unwanted feedback, Rosa and Steven were tossing pretzels into each other’s mouths from a distance, and Roberta and Arkady….well, it was probably best if Deeks ignored any of their activities.

“I’m sorry this year’s celebration isn’t more elaborate,” Deeks apologized unexpectedly, raising Kensi’s hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

“What do you mean? This is great.” Kensi gestured to their yard, now overtaken by their former team, their significant others, Rosa, the moms, and more eating and socializing.

“It is, but I had planned on something a little more intimate.” He shrugged.

“I always enjoy whatever you do for my birthday, because it’s coming from you. I think this might be the best one yet though. I have you, Rosa, these little miracles,” she said, her hand passing over her stomach, gently cupping her four month bump. “41 is looking pretty good so far.”

“Yeah, it is,” Deeks agreed softly, leaning down to kiss her. “Happy birthday.”

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #and co #densi babies #still manifesting twins #fluff #Kensi’s 41st birthday #birthday fic #ejzah fanfiction

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lurkiestvoid · 11 months ago

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it's 3 4 a.m. and I'm hungry and we're perpetually (very) poor so bc I can't help it here is a list of some foods I dearly desperately miss:

- COFFEE.

- almost every fast food. just, hot multi-ingredient satisfying meals acquired in under 10 minutes that require no prep, cooking, or cleanup (quality can vary drastically ofc but idgaf at this point)

- more specifically: giant fucking cheeseburgers, hot and juicy, fully dressed. Taco Bell. and Chinese food. And good pizza that doesn't come from dollar store freezers. And biiig thicc sandwiches from subway or similar

- boneless garlic parmesan chicken wings

- Arby's. Roast beef, curly fries.

- French fries in general

- Zaxby's/Panera salads

- only had it a couple times but chipotle/qdoba burritos or bowls

- restaurants. haven't been out to eat since before the pandemic but just, big complicated filling meals cooked by someone else

- more specifically: warm rolls with honey butter, chicken tenders and fries, enchiladas, chicken fried steak, a good hearty chili, fettuccini alfredo with broccoli and chicken, lasagna, fully loaded potato soup, loaded nachos, a good baked spaghetti and meatballs ...

- fried pickles

- homemade comfort food, like, a full "Sunday dinner" spread. Meatloaf, or pot roast with veggies, mashed potatoes and gravy, baked mac n cheese, sweet cornbread, green beans with bacon, deviled eggs, a giant deluxe salad...

- SALADS. BIG FRESH CRISP SALADS WITH ALL THE TOPPINGS AND VARIETY

- a full breakfast spread. hash browns, pancakes, lots of eggs with onions and peppers, juice, sausages, biscuits and gravy, etc

- orange juice

- a wholeass veggie or fruit tray. mostly the carrots, or cantaloupe/strawberries/apples but give me the whole tray and leave me alone

- my "safe" foods

- banana nut bread 😭

- from-scratch home baked goods, more than just the $1-box-cake-and-$1-frosting every few months. All The Bars, All The Cookies, pies, the decadent brownies

- fucking. CHOCOLATE.

- snacks in general. Just, having them, and the ability to grab a handful between meals if needed or desired

- the delicious but "expensive" (>$5) grocery shit we can't splurge on. there's this amazing cranberry almond chicken salad...

- quiche

- hamburger helper

- polish sausage fried with peppers and onions and sauerkraut

- potato salad

- deli pepperturkey

- non-american cheese

- butterscotch pudding

- chili cheese tater tots

- pizza rolls

- donuts

- granola bars. trail mix

- yogurt with or without granola topping

- really anything that isn't plain rice and beans, bologna/cheese/PB&J sandwiches, ramen, hot dogs, oatmeal, toast, canned mixed veggies, generic boxed mac n cheese, butter noodles, and frozen waffles

- i have to stop now. if u read this far, thanks! pls go indulge in ur favorite foods and take your time to deeply savor them

#so many recipes are like 'its so easy and cheap! use scraps and leftovers and your pantry!'#and its like. that is already vastly overestimating my resources #'just use a bit of flour to--' what flour. 'just add' ma'am i have dried rice and dried beans #and like. a can of collard greens #the food pantries here are in high demand #and limited to no more than once a month #EBT paperwork is lagging #i eat once a day or less. so kiddo has enough to eat #and they get free bfast+lunch at school so it helps a ton #but shit is rough. has been for a while #nothing new just screaming into the void #cant even fundraise bc the only person i can share it to is my wife so uh #fundraising online only works if you already have a platform or know someone who does #rambles #food tw #tw food #hunger tw

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wheresgamora · 3 years ago

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spider-guy

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

tom!peter parker x f!reader

warnings: SPIDER-MAN NO WAY HOME SPOILERS, not proofread

a/n: i'm happy rn cause i watched nwh really early so i couldn't write anything abt it but it's been a month and i assume a lot of people watched by now so i can finally write abt itttt

summary: after everything that happened, peter doesn't have anyone with him anymore, but it doesn't seem like he'll be completely alone

peter hasn't been happy these past few days, i mean- who wouldn't? but he knew his late aunt may would want him to continue helping people, it hasn't been easy for him though

he lost his friends, he lost happy, he lost everything. it was like he didn't exist anymore. he also lost his girlfriend, y/n. he couldn't even begin to explain how much he loves her.

he missed her so much, but he knew this was for the best. during his daily patrol, he stopped once his name was called. at first, he thought maybe someone was in trouble or something

until he saw her

y/n, y/n was calling out for him, but she doesn't seem to be in trouble. it confused him, why would she want to talk to him? he was hesitant to answer, it hurt to see her and not being able to hug her or kiss her, or tell her how much he loves her.

"uh- yeah- that's me" he said, slightly stuttering, he jumped and landed right in front of her

"what can i do for you y/-ma'am"

she was a tupperware box, it had her famous brownies

"i just wanted to give you these, to thank you for helping us everyday." she said, extending her hand out so he can take it but he didn't. he simply stared at her, admiring her. she was always so sweet to people, all he wanted to do was hug her for hours.

"um, mister spider-man? do you-not like these? it's completely fine if you-"

"no!"

she paused

"uh i mean- no, i do. i really like these, thank you so much" he said, taking the box

"it's nothing compared to what you do everyday- i'm y/n" she said

"i'm uh- well you already know- it's nice to meet you, y/n. thanks for these, means a lot."

"of course, hey um- when i come home i'm gonna make some more sweets, do you like cookies?"

he paused before answering, everytime she talked he would smile, focusing on the softness of her voice and how much she seemed to care about a total stranger

"oh- i love them"

"well then- maybe you can go to the bakery my friend works at, peter pan donut and pastry shop. i'm usually there during the morning, i can give you a batch and maybe we can grab a cup of coffee?"

he obviously wanted to agree, but all he wanted to know is, why would she want to grab a cup of coffee with a total stranger?

"of course but uh- do you mind if i ask you a question?"

she shook her head and smiled

"why would you want to hang out with me? i mean- i'm a total stranger and i could be some creepy guy under the mask"

she chuckled

"i honesly don't know, i just have this feeling- like i know you for some reason and have this sort of connection? is that weird i'm sorry-"

"no no, it's not. i feel that way too" he said

he pulled up his mask up to his mouth to try the brownies

"mm, this is really good" he said, enjoying the brownies

she chuckled and smiled but was interrupted by a text message, "sorry spider-man, i have to go. see you tommorow" she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and leaving

she was surprised at how it didn't catch him off guard by dismissed, obviously not knowing that he was used to it from when they were dating.

it hurt peter to know that they might be just 'friends', but he didn't care about that right now. all he cared about was the fact that he could be around her, even when she doesn't know who he is

a/n: this sucked omg

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jadegrey711 · 3 years ago

Photo

Roll Me, Like Your Flour Dough

Baker!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! I decided I want to make something longer than a oneshot so this is my first attempt at a Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader series! The title and the inspiration for this came from that Tina Turner song and thus this story was born! I currently don’t know how long I’ll make this but hopefully I won’t get super self conscious about my writing and like give up on this one. But, I’m super excited for this one and I really hope you guys all like it.

This will eventually contain smut so this story is considered +18 so keep that in mind when you read. But other than that I decided to make something so incredibly fluffy lol. Header is made by me! But I don’t own any of the pictures. Just the story.

Summary: Reader is a travel nurse who is looking for a slower paced job away from the hustle and bustle of the emergency room and takes a residency in a small idylic town a few hours from Boston. Where she comes to mets new friends and an especially handsome baker named Steve Rogers.

*Also just know that while I may be a Nursing major I know very little about the travel nursing world and what all of it entails with the agencies so if I say something wrong if you want to correct me just please do it nicely*

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

PART 1: The Arrival

The listing was exactly the kind of posting you were looking for. It was a listing for a local clinic in a small town a few hours from Boston, looking for an RN who was willing to fill in at the clinic for the next five months. It would definitely be a change of pace for you and a mental break from the hustle and bustle of the ER. You were more than glad to exchange the gunshots wounds and car crashes for treating ear infections and broken wrists.

As soon as you accepted the posting you emailed the leading physician there at the clinic who also seemed to be the owner, Dr. Sam Wilson. Who seemed to be the type of man with a bursting personality from what you gleaned over your email exchange. He let you know that he was more than happy to welcome you into their town and to his clinic and he gave you the number for the local realtor; Jimmy Woo who would help you find a place for the duration of your stay in town.

After you finished up your emails with Dr. Wilson you immediately contacted Mr. Woo via email and your agency to get the matter of housing settled and then you were buying your ticket and would be flying out tomorrow morning to Boston.

As you packed you procrastinated a bit by looking up the town and scrolled through pictures of it. It was the idyllic perfect little town, maybe not so little but it definitely didn't have the occupancy of a major city. However as you continued to google the place, you also looked at the yelp reviews for most of the businesses and shops in town. It seemed like this town had everything, from a martial arts studio, a bookstore, a nursery and flower shop and the shop that had the most reviews and in fact the highest reviews was a bakery.

“Star Spangled Bakery.” You murmured to yourself and browsed through their photos. You felt your jaw drop and your mouth water at the sight of all the pictures of the beautiful confections and sweets that were available at the shop. From donuts the size of your fist to beautifully decorated cakes with intricate patterns of icing, along with brownies absolutely oozing chocolate, petit fours, croissants and even photos of people holding their coffee since this place was also a cafe too.

You scrolled to some of the reviews.

“This place is heaven on earth! And there’s even a beautiful angel here too! ;)”

“Hands down got to be the best bakery and cafe I have ever been to. Rogers never ceases to amaze!”

“God just watching Steve knead dough alone is worth giving this place five stars but he’s also amazing at making anything you can dream up! Why is life so unfair!”

You giggled to yourself as you kept scrolling through the reviews, obviously a lot of them were made by women who thought the owner of the place was attractive.

You bit your lip and went to the bakeries website in search of a picture of the infamous Steve Rogers, but you pouted a bit when there was none to be found. Of course there were a hundred more of his amazing masterpieces and a short blurb about him and how he went off to Paris to train and came back home to put his new skills to use in his family’s bakery; but there was no picture of him.

“Hmm.” you muttered to yourself and looked at the time on your phone, letting out a shriek at the fact that it was currently midnight and you just spent three hours googling this town and Steve Rogers along with the fact that you still hadn’t finished packing and your flight was in four hours.

You ran to your closet and pulled out all your winter coats since you’d be there well into the new year and your sweaters for California’s “winter”, so weren't going to cut it in Massachusetts where they actually had winter. You felt yourself involuntarily shiver at the thought of snow and grabbed an extra jacket just to be safe. You ran around your house like a madwoman making sure that you had everything together and ready for when you had to get up in approximately two hours for your flight.

***

Approximately two and a half hours later you were dressed and had already called an uber to take you to the airport. While you waited you did a quick double check of the two suitcases and carry on that had been your constant companions these past seven years of endless adventures. Then you took a look around your bare apartment, there was no trace of you here; nothing to signify that this place had been your home for the past five years. No photos or art on the walls, no little knick knacks, even your book shelves were practically bare, save for the medical books you’ve kept since college. It made everything easier that way though, not having to carry around that extra weight if you had to one day just up and go; everything that you owned could fit into three cardboard boxes.

It wasn’t a sad thought to you, that was how you wanted it. How during the duration of the program seven years ago you dreamed of being always on the move, never putting down roots and experiencing all that life had to offer. What would've been sad is if you stayed in that stuffy little box you used to call your life, always knowing and feeling that there was so much more out there you wanted, needed to experience. And now, now you could experience everything and anything you wanted to, you had no strings on you and that was perfectly fine with you.

When the uber arrived to take you to the airport you take one last look around your apartment and then grabbed your bags to head out into your newest adventure.

***

You groaned as you cracked your back as you headed off the plane with the other passengers and towards baggage claim.

You made quick work of grabbing your bags and managed to snag yourself a rental car before you plugged in the name of the clinic into google maps and started the long drive.

***

It took you about two and half hours before you finally saw the big town sign, signalling that you had finally made it! It took another twenty minutes for you to actually reach the town and when you did you slowed your speed a little more than necessary but you wanted to take it all in. The first word that came to mind when you saw the place was; idyllic.

It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting or an episode of Gilmore Girls with all the beautiful colors of autumn as its backdrop. As you weaved your way through the town, you saw most of the places that you were looking at online; you watched as people chatted and laughed as they entered the martial arts studio, holding bags with what you assumed would be the equipment they would use. Others were walking inside the flower shop, it’s front windows decorated to the nines with gorgeous window paintings of different flowers, there was even a bookshop here; which you made a personal note to visit as much as you can.

And there was Star Spangled Bakery and with it apparently came a line of people out the door and around the corner just waiting to get inside.

“Damn was it really that good?” You mumbled to yourself, and rounded the corner with your car heading towards the clinic.

A five minute drive through town and you had finally made it. You pulled in one of the parking spaces in front of the clinic and got out, giving your back another crack before grabbing your purse and heading up the steps and inside.

When you opened the door there was a small chime of a bell that sounded above your head. You walked further inside and saw a young black woman sitting at the front desk, you made your way over and smiled at her as she looked up and met your eyes.

“Hello!” She said with a bright smile on her head. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Hi!” You said as you returned her smile with a bright one of her own. “And yes. I am the new nurse filling in here for the next few months, I’m looking for Dr. Wilson?”

“Oh my goodness yes!” She said excitedly as she got up from her seat and made her way around the desk to stand in front of you. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Shuri.” She said, holding out her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Y/N.” you replied and eagerly shook her hand.

“It’s so exciting to finally have someone new here! The nurse who was here before you, Jessica, left to go work in the big city and it’s been kind of lonely here with only myself, Dr. Wilson, and Dr. Foster. So it’s very exciting to have a new friend here to work with. And I just know that we will be fast friends.” She smiled.

You let out a small chuckle. “I definitely think that we will be fast friends too, Shuri.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that! I just know that you’ll fall in love with this place. It may be a small town but we are a few hours from Boston and we have some amazing shops that are major tourist attractions. My brother and his wife, Nakia own the martial arts studio here in town. Hey. How about after you and Dr. Wilson are introduced. I'll show you around the town?”

“That would be amazing! I appreciate that Shuri.” You said, giving her an emphatic smile.

“Yeah of course!”

Suddenly, you heard one of the doors open down the hallway.

“Alright, Ms. Harkness. Everything looks great, your blood pressure was a bit high which I would like to be a bit lower. And you need to cut down on those sweets-” Dr. Wilson was soon cut off by the older woman walking out of the exam room behind him.

“As you said everything is fine and as for the sweets, I hope you aren’t trying to deny an old woman her pleasures, Sam.” Ms. Harkness said giving Dr. Wilson a soft but still stern look that meant she wasn’t going to hear anything else he said unless it was ‘good day’.

Dr. Wilson gave her a dazzling white smile before nodding his head. “Alright, you have a good day, Ms. Harkness.”

She patted his cheek, and returned his smile. “You too, Sam.” Before the old woman walked past you and Shuri; Shuri waving her out before she walked out of the clinic.

“Sam!” Shuri smiled as he walked over to where you and Shuri were standing. As the good doctor walked towards you and Shuri you could finally take in the little details of him you couldn’t see when he was down the hall. Well, you could see he was tall and built but now you got to see the warmth in his eyes and that winning smile he showed both your and Shuri’s way.

God damn this man just oozes charm.

“Good morning, Shuri.” He greeted her, before his chocolate brown eyes met yours.

“This is the new hire, her name is Y/N.”

“Yes! Ms. Y/L/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” He smiled again and stuck his large hand out for you to shake. You quickly shook his hand, feeling it practically engulf yours.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Dr. Wilson.” You said feeling your cheeks warm.

“Please call me Sam!” he said and you swore he just cranked his charm levels up to eleven.

He took his hand back from your handshake. “Are you sure?” You questioned. Your years of training in both the actual medical practices and hospital etiquette refusing to call him by his first name.

“Yes. I’m sure.” he chuckled.

“Yeah. Only tourists who come in call him Dr. Wilson. Everyone knows everyone in this town and formality kind of went out the window maybe a year after Sam took over the practice from his dad.” Shuri chirped in.

“Oh alright. Well it’s definitely going to be something to get used to.” You smirked.

“I’m sure it will be a minor adjustment for you, after working with all the sooty doctors in the cities, am I right?”

“You’re most definitely not wrong.” You chuckled.

“Well now that introduction are out of the way. Can I interest you in a tour of the clinic? I think even Dr. Foster is lurking around somewhere. She’s our main OB on residence but she also does General practitioning.”

“Yes! Of course I’d love a tour of the place.”

“Alright then, Shuri, are you going to pretend at the front desk or are you going to just join us for the tour.” Sam finished but Shuri had already beat him to the punch with the back in thirty minutes sign at the front desk and started walking behind us with a big smile on her face.

***

The tour of the clinic took about an hour or so where Sam explained your duties and what kind of cases you are most likely to treat.

“We do get the occasional burn or cut especially in Winter when someone always thinks they’re He-Man tries to chop their own wood.”

“The sight of blood doesn’t bother me. I’ve dealt with more crashes and gunshot wounds in the ER than ear aches.”

“Well I hope our little clinic won’t be too slow for you, Y/N.”

“Not all, Dr - I mean Sam. “ You smiled sheepishly. “I think it'll be a nice change of pace.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Y/N.”

After that Sam did manage to find Dr. Foster, who just like Sam likes to be called by her first name; Jane.

She was a nice lady who unlike Sam didn’t grow up in this town and was a bit more like you in the way that she also worked in the big city and the major hospitals. She explained how she used to work in the major hospitals with the kind of people who grew severely uppity when you didn’t call them Doctor even while off duty and decided to work somewhere else that had a slower pace to it. Which is how she met Sam and her now husband who oddly enough is named… Thor.

“This place will definitely get you if you stay long enough.” Jane chuckled.

“I’m only here till the new year.” You replied and Jane gave you a knowing smirk.

“I was only supposed to be here for three months. Now I’ve been here for three years. This place unexpectedly grows on you.”

“And I am hoping to further contaminate Y/N with our charming town by giving her a tour!” Shuri chuckled.

“Wonderful!” Jane smiled. “If you manage to find your way to the flower shop say “Hi” to my husband for me will you? You can’t miss him.”

Shuri and you smiled and waved goodbye to Jane as you all left her office, before Shuri leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in your ear. “That’s because he’s built like a freaking tree!” Shuri chuckled, making you both laugh.

“Now, that’s something I got to see.” you whispered back.

“Then let’s go!” shuri said as she linked her arm in yours and you both waved goodbye to Sam and Jane and headed to Shuri’s car which was parked behind the clinic.

A/N: Ahh! So it starts! I really hope you guys liked the beginning of my story! And are as excited as me for another part! I also promise that baker Steve will show up in the next part and some other fav characters as well!

Don’t hesitate to reblog and leave comments! It’s honestly what keeps the inspiration going!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers series #steve rogers story #steve rogers imagine #captain america oneshots #jade tries writing #jadegrey writes #my writing #fluffy baker steve rogers x reader #baker!steve #baker!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #eventual smut

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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can u do a peter x stark! reader headcanon where the avengers decide to go on a long roadtrip where tony rents out this fancy ass bus for everyone to ride in. omg and like their 'gas station orders'. <3

i love this 🥺

tony decided the team could use a break

not just a regular week off, but a road trip away from everything

including your work phones so fury can’t call

it’s almost noon when you all pile onto the bus

bruce is driving because no one else wanted to

tony is up at the front with steve in the seat next to his

nat and wanda are behind tony

sam and bucky are behind steve

thor took two whole rows to himself

you and peter are all the way in the back

he lets you have the window seat so you can see all the pretty stuff outside

the only condition is that you take a few pictures for him

you both listen to some music to drown out sam and bucky playing concentration

sharing your earbuds ofc

peter ends up falling asleep on you

you’re not really sure how between the game and thor’s surprisingly loud snoring

his head is on your shoulder, and yours is on the window

the bus seats actually recline all the way, but you don’t want to wake him up

every seat has its own tv too

nat and wanda use theirs to watch america’s next top model

your dad is currently annoying bruce

he has an arm slung around his shoulders and he’s telling a story you can’t hear

bruce threatens to hulk out on him, so he quickly gets back to his seat

steve gives him his famous look of disappointment

peter wakes up when everyone is deciding where they actually want to go

you kind of winged this whole trip

sam suggests vegas, which steve shuts down because of “the kids”

thor says something about a little planet you can’t make out the name of

he’s probably sleep talking

tony claps his hands together all of a sudden

“grand canyon? y/n? peter? grand canyon?”

you give him two thumbs up, peter still rubbing his eyes

“sounds good, mr. stark”

it’ll take a while to get there, but that’s fine with everyone

peter gets up to use the fancy bathroom on your bus

like, it even has a small shower

you’re not sure how your dad finds these things

maybe he just invented it himself

he’s facetiming pepper and morgan right now

they couldn’t come because morgan has a cold

it would’ve felt like a family vacation if they were here, so you’re kinda down about it

peter notices your mood change when he gets back

he frowns and pulls you into his side

you lay your head on his chest

“what’s up, baby? you want a snack or something?”

that finally wakes thor up

“did somebody say snack?”

tony realizes he did everything but stock the fridge

he has bruce pull up at a gas station

nat and wanda offer to go in for everyone

nat takes orders

tony wants one of those packages of cheese and nuts

steve asks for a slim jim and a “can of pop”

sam and bucky split funyuns and their own box of cosmic brownies

thor requests a fresh fruit salad, emphasis on fresh

bruce jokes about getting a red bull, but nat tells him absolutely not

peter gets a three musketeers and slushee

you get your own slushee and a donut

everyone feasts on their lunch

tony fills you in on how morgan is

he says she’s not too bad and she told you specifically to have fun

that makes you feel better

peter presses a quick kiss to your cheek, you somehow curling more into him

you give him a peck on his lips

he tastes like chocolate and ends up blushing

“not in front of your dad!”

it ends up being maybe your favorite trip ever

#tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark #peter parker imagine

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lovemesomesurveys · 2 years ago

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1. How many pairs of converse shoes do you own? None anymore. I used to have several pairs. 2. Any other names your parents planned to give you? I was told my mom liked the name Jesse if I had been a boy. 3. Are you hot? Temperature wise, yes. Physically, no definitely not. 4. Which is the most beautiful place you know? One of them is Lake Tahoe. I took a gondola ride and got a breathtaking view. 5. What do you work with? Huh?

6. Five everyday essentials you never leave the house without? My bag with my phone, wallet, medicine, and mask. 7. Have you ever hit an animal with your car? I don’t drive. 8. Favorite ride at the amusement park? I love majority of the rides at Disneyland. 9. Favorite beauty essential in your bathroom cabinet? I don’t have one. 10. Do you have many followers on your tumblr? I’m certainly not Tumblr famous, but I am surprised how many people follow me. Especially this one that’s just surveys and the fact some people actually read my answers. 11. Do you tan easily? If I spend a decent amount of time outdoors, which is only happens when I go to the beach. 12. Are you expecting something in the mail? Yes. 13. Do you inspire others? I’m no inspiration. 14. Favorite dessert: Milkshakes, ice cream, cheesecake, cookies, donuts, brownies, cupcakes, candy. 15. What do you collect? Giraffe stuffed animals, keychains, and stuff from the various fandoms I’m apart of. 16. Do you like cats? Yeah. I’m a total dog person, though. 17. Are you healthy? No. 18. Have you ever been out of state? Yes, just a few times. 19. Can you always blame your acts on that you were just too drunk? No, I don’t even drink. I can only blame myself. I wouldn’t use that as an excuse anyway even if I did, I’d still own up. 20. Three things you try to avoid as much as possible: Hmm. I can think of things I should try to avoid doing as much as possible. 21. How many times have you been overseas? I haven’t. 22. Do you use to have someone in mind when shopping for underwear? Yeah, myself and what I think is most comfortable. 23. Number of jeans in your closet: I keep them in my dresser, but anyway I only have a few. I got rid of several pairs due to the fact I haven’t even worn jeans for the past like 5 years. 24. What accent do you have? A Californian one, I guess? 25. Where would you like to live? I’d have to really think about it and look into places, but definitely not the city I live in now. 26. Do you follow fashion? I just wear what I like and is comfortable for me. 27. Do you have a big butt? I have no ass. 28. Your worst job nightmare is: I’ve never had a job. 29. Who's the coolest rapper in the world? I don’t know. I like several. 30. Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together? I’m single and have been for a very long time. 31. Have you graduated? I graduated UC back in 2015. 32. Should you go to a dance class or a charm class? No? 33. Rihanna or Lady GaGa? I like songs from both of them, but I’d probably choose Rihanna. 34. Do you use fake eyelashes? Not my thing. 35. What's your worst interior design nightmare: I don’t know. 36. Which was the last book that really captivated you? There’s a few different series I’ve been reading the past few years that I’m really into. 37. What are you wearing today? I’m still in the hospital, still wearing a hospital gown. 38. Have you ever been so drunk that the police had to take care of you? No. 39. Are you one of those people that often feel sorry for yourself? :/ 40. Do you have a MySpace? And actually use it? I had one, but haven’t logged in since like 2009. 41. What make up brands do you use? I don’t even wear makeup anymore, but the main brands I used were NYX, CoverGirl, and Wet n’ Wild. 42. What's the last vacation spot? One of my favorite beach towns. 43. What's the worst kind of rejection you could give someone? Uhh. 44. Do you have a crush on someone right now? No. 45. When are one guaranteed to NOT get laid? ? 46. Is there anyone that many people think is hot, but you don't? Yeah. 47. How often do you wash your hair? Normally every 2-3 days, but since being in the hospital I haven’t been able to. 48. Who's your free pass? I’m single, but if I were in a relationship I wouldn’t be for having free passes. 49. Do you sort and organize your clothes in some kind of way? Only in that I have a socks/underwear drawer, shirt drawer, and pants drawer. 50. Three persons you would like to thank: My parents and brother.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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bts-hyperfixation · 4 years ago

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De-Stress

I think I only ended up using the ‘Have you eaten’ prompt. Hope you like it!

Established relationship smut.

“Hello Jagiya, how was your day?!” Tae yells as he comes into your home. You wipe away the tears that had been falling freely in hopes to hide your stress from your boyfriend. It had been one thing after all week, finally ending with you breaking down in front of your laptop as one more assignment reminder hit your inbox. Working from home was never something you wanted to do, and now you were struggling to find a balance between work life and home life. The lines just continue to blend together.

“Hey baby, I didn’t think you were coming by today.” You hope your voice isn’t too shaky as you respond.

“We finished early, and I missed you. Have you eaten?” he asks as he comes into your office. It only takes a moment for him to catch on to your mood. He notices the puffy cheeks and red nose, and sits on the chair next to yours pulling you in to his arms. The motion makes you start crying again. He runs his fingers through your hair until your calm enough to talk to him. He listens intently as you tell him what you’ve been doing all week. It feels silly when you list everything out in the open. All little things that have piled up making a mountain out of a molehill. Complaining to an idol with the pressure of the world on his shoulder isn’t helping with the twisting sense of guilt you’re feeling for breaking like this in front of him.

It's not that you hide your feelings from Tae, but you do tend to water down the bad ones. He doesn’t need to be worrying about you when he is worrying about everyone else already, you like to think of yourself as a safe space for his emotions instead. But today you just couldn’t keep it in. You uncurl yourself slightly at meet his gaze. Instead of the tired/bored eyes you expected, you found nothing but love and concern in his expression.

“I’m sorry Tae, I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.” He uses the cuff of his sweater to remove the rest of the tears from your face and kisses your forehead.

“Don’t apologise for being stressed Y/N you shoved have told me sooner, everything is easier with help you know.” He hugs you tighter for a moment before releasing you completely. Your stomach rumbles as you slide back into your own chair. “It’s time for food.” You reluctantly let him pull you up and out of the office. Instead of heading into the kitchen like you expect he leads you towards the back door where you find a picnic basket waiting for the two of you. He grins that beautifully boxy smile when he sees the confused look on your face.

“I planned us a picnic to surprise you, thought we could eat out under the sunset tonight.” You can’t help but smile back at him. The idea of relaxing in the waning sun sounded heavenly. You slide on some flip flops and follow Tae into the garden where he has already set up a blanket for you to sit on. There is an ice box of wine and candles waiting for you too.

“When did you have time to set this up? I’ve been home all day…” it’s honestly a little concerning you didn’t hear him pottering around in outside your house.

“I told you I finished early, and I tried really really hard to be quiet so you would be surprised… You are surprised right?” he gives you wide puppy dog eyes and you reward him with a chaste kiss.

“Very.” You slowly drop his hand and make yourself comfortable on one side of the blanket. You lay back and allow the lingering warmth to run through you, dismissing all the stress that built up in your bones. Taehyung lights the candles and pours you a glass of rosé before diving into the basket to pull out all your favourite treats. Its not so much dinner as it is dessert, but you certainly aren’t one to complain. He lifts a chocolate covered strawberry to your lips. As you go to bite it, he pulls it away and eats it himself making you pout.

“That wasn’t nice tae.” You add fake sniffles to your act and flutter eyelashes. “I’m already sad do you really want to make me sadder?” You just get a mini brownie thrown at your forehead in response. You look at him with mock betrayal, launching the same brownie is his direction, except he expects it, catching it in his mouth instead. This of course turns into a competition. Bite sized pieces of food being thrown at each other from increasingly difficult angles. Donuts and cake bites are scattered across the poor picnic blanket by the time you give up, some icing stains that will likely never come out no matter how many times it’s washed.

The sun is long gone now, the candles were extinguished by the breeze a while ago. The air gets cold as the wind starts to pick up. Goosebumps appear all along your skin, it hadn’t occurred to you to grab a hoody on your way into the garden. As soon as he notices the hair standing on your arms, tae drags you across the dessert graveyard and into his lap wrapping you tightly in his warm embrace.

“I love you so much.” He whispers against your skin, kissing along the tops of your shoulders. You ease back into him, all of your early troubles forgotten as you sit with him. Nothing else seems important when you have him.

“I love you too Taehyung.” You tilt your face to kiss him properly. It starts as a peck, then two, then three, then he is lying back as you hold yourself over him, kissing him like you haven’t seen him in years. All thoughts of being cold forgotten as trail kisses along his jawline and his hands grab at your bum. He pushes you on to your back, taking the upper hand from you. Feverishly pressing kisses to your skin, worshipping every part of you he can reach like this. “Take me inside?” Taehyung is not a man that needs to be told twice, lifting you into his arms, picnic supplies abandoned in favour of your bedroom.

He places you gently on the end of your bed, allowing you to scoot yourself up to a more comfortable position. As soon as your head hits the pillow, he is back on top of you, fingers fiddling with the button on your jeans as his lips traced along your bare collarbone. His free hand pushes up at the hem of your shirt to expose your stomach. His mouth moves to kiss down to your belly button. You giggle as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. You lift your hips to help him wiggle your pants down. He makes quick work of the garment, your underwear following swiftly behind. He slowly kisses back up you legs teasing you with nips and licks every time he switches. You can feel the arousal pooling between your thighs.

Taehyung uses his pointer finger to run along your folds. The anticipation nearly kills you. Two fingers dip inside, forcing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion. He uses this as an excuse to press his lips back to yours, swallowing each sound you make as his fingers curl within you. Your back arches as he hits the most sensitive parts. A third finger finds its way inside, stretching you out, making sure you are ready for him. After almost a whole with Tae it still took a little while to get you ready to accommodate his size.

You whine when he pulls away from you, missing the warmth of his body covering yours. He kneels above you, tugging slowly at the top of his shirt, pulling it off so slowly it hurts. You reach out and trace the line up the middle of his abs. He creases as you tickle him, bringing and end to his attempt at a sexy strip tease. Instead the shirt is immediately thrown across the room and his hands are on you again. Taehyung keeps your hips pinned down, resting his weight on you as he rubs his clothed crotch gently across your clit.

“Please Tae, you’re such a tease.” You pout. All this does is make him grind a little harder, the soft material of his sweats starting to form a dark patch where his precum and your arousal were mixing.

“Please what angel? Tell me what you need, tell me everything.” A teasing lilt to his voice as he grinds down one last time before pulling himself back, fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweats.

“Make love to me Tae, love me so good I can’t think of anything or anyone besides you.” Any sign of joking leaves his expression. His sweats are kicked off quickly and he pulls you up to him. Both on your knees, as close as you can possibly be. Your shirt was tossed on to the pile with his. One of his hands cradles the back of your neck as the other squeezes you against him. Your hands take purchase on his bum, never one to miss out on the opportunity. It’s hard to breath and harder to separate, until you feel his cock throbbing against your stomach. You lie down, bringing him with you and straightening your legs in the process.

He takes the invitation gladly, lining himself up and pushing carefully. You allow yourself to adjust, more soft kisses are pressed along your throat as he waits for you to start moving against him. You tentatively wiggle your hips. Every time with him feels amazing. It really is true when they say real love makes all the difference. He knows exactly when he can start thrusting himself, meeting the movement of your hips with deep and slow thrusts of his own.

As he speeds up, he presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing erratic figure eights against the sensitive nerves. You can feel the pressure building in the bottom of you stomach as you wriggle more prompting Tae to hit the right spots inside of you. He takes every hint, driving faster and deeper each time. His face scrunched in concentration as he focused on your pleasure before his own. You caress his face and bring his eyes to meet yours, needing the eye contact to tip you over the edge. Almost as soon as his gorgeous eyes meet yours, you cum. You squeeze tightly around Taehyung, legs clinging around his waist as you ride out your high. It doesn’t take him long to follow behind you, releasing the most heavenly moan as he does. He thrust into you a few more times as he softens. You unwrap yourself from him, only to have him collapse beside you and fold you back into his embrace.

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waywardodysseys · 5 years ago

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Finders Keepers - Oneshot

gif by @rainbowkisses31

Pairing: Chris Evans x female reader

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), beard burn, cussing

~ ~ ~

The smell of tomato, basil, oregano, and garlic fill the expansive kitchen as you stir the homemade sauce for the made from scratch meatballs you made earlier in the day. Being stuck in quarantine had made your inner Julia Child explode. It didn’t help your boyfriend encouraged you to cook more often especially when he loved devouring the homemade meals you made for him when he returned from being away from work for long periods of time, walking the halls of D.C., or stuck doing press tours for upcoming projects.

A happy bark and the click clack of toenails against the hardwood floor break through the quietness. You turn and look towards the living room. Chris is walking towards you in jeans and a red-black flannel shirt. You can’t help but smile and shake your head.

“What?” Comes Chris’ snarky yet kind remark as he closes the distance between the two of you.

You run your hand over the buzz cut he’s given himself. “I can’t believe you decided to cut it.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, “I had nothing else to do.”

Dodger sits on the floor, moving his head back and forth as he keeps his eyes on the two of you.

You hum as you face the stove. You check the display, noting you must place the meatballs in the sauce in ten minutes. You feel Chris’ arms wrap around you and his rough beard scrape you neck.

“Chris,” you ground out as his teeth nip at your skin.

“Y/N,” Chris whispers in his smooth baritone voice.

Shivers run down your spine as his hands dip under your shirt and stroke your skin. Your body hums as his hands move up your stomach and cup your breasts. He squeezes them lightly as he grinds himself against your ass.

You moan lightly as you feel his hardness. You try to keep your focus on stirring the sauce.

“Please tell me we have time,” Chris moans.

“We have plenty,” you pause, “later.”

Chris sighs heavily, “I guess I should do the vid for Save with Stories. Get it over with.”

You smile, “know what book you’re going to read?”

“If You Give A Dog A Donut,” Chris replies, “Dodger needs to stay in here with you.”

“I know. You know he and I get along great. Even greater than you and I.”

Chris grazes your skin with his teeth, “hey now.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at his sarcasm.

Chris removes his hands from your body then kisses your neck gently. His beard scrapes your delicate skin which sends a heatwave through your body.

“You should go,” you squeak out, “before we do something, forget dinner, and burn the house down.”

Chris chuckles lowly as he smacks your ass playfully. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You hear him shuffle away then his soft whisper to Dodger “stay here with her. Protect her Dodgy. She’s important to us both.”

From the corner of your eye you watch Dodger lower himself to the floor. He crosses his front two paws and looks up at you.

“Good boy,” Chris whispers.

You shake your head and smile as you hear Chris walk out of the kitchen to somewhere else in the house.

-------

Hours later, after dinner and approving one of Chris’ umpteenth takes on his book reading, you are sitting in an oversized chair when the doorbell rings.

Dodger removes himself from beside your chair and walks to the door with Chris.

“Thank you,” you hear Chris’ voice state as sounds of bags make their way to your ears.

Chris had said he was overseeing dessert earlier in the afternoon. You wondered what he had delivered because there was ice cream in the freezer and brownie mixes in the pantry. Your mind tries to think about what day it is because with the quarantine they’ve seemed to all run together.

It’s neither of your birthdays, nor Dodger’s. You know it’s not an anniversary either. It’s the end of March. What could possibly be at the end of March?

Then it hits you like a runaway freight train.

Two years ago, you had been sitting outside the Martha-Mary Chapel on the Longfellow’s Wayside Inn estate in a bubblegum pink bridesmaid’s dress when a plate was placed in front of your face. You had looked up and into Chris’ blue eyes.

“My mother has always advised me to never take cake from strangers,” your voice had a hint of sadness yet bewilderment to it.

“This is,” Chris had said, “the best chocolatiest cake in the entire world. The frosting alone,” Chris had done a chef’s kiss motion with the sound, “perfection. Try it.”

“Why me?” You had asked with a raised eyebrow as you took the plate and one of the two forks he had.

Chris had taken a seat beside you. His body was warm, and you had burrowed into it because of the night chill.

“Everyone here is all smiles except you.”

“I was smiles earlier.” You had retorted with sarcasm before taking your first bite.

Oh, my fucking word, your mind had thought as you tasted the most meltingly delicious chocolatiest cake of your entire life.

“For the ceremony, pictures. Yes.” Chris had remarked. “Talk to me.”

You knew who he was, knew he was a friend of the groom. You were related to the bride.

You had shrugged, taken another bite. “I’ve been in three weddings in the last ten months. Will be in two more. One I am the maid of honor, wedding of my best friend. Probably the only one I’m happy for. I mean, I am happy for them all, but you know,” you had shrugged, “I haven’t been as lucky as the couples.”

“Love is hard. Finding it, keeping it. Making it thrive.” Chris had implied as he looked at you with a sly grin.

A month later after that night, you and Chris had become official.

You now watch as Chris walks into the living room. Dodger walking beside him slowly. The wide brown eyes looking between his dad and you.

“Sit at her feet,” Chris whispers as he finally stands in front of you.

Your eyes move between the human and the animal. Your heart quickens as Dodger sits then Chris kneels in front of you.

He holds out a plate big enough for two pieces of cake from Longview but only one is on the plate along with the words “will you marry me” handwritten in chocolate sauce.

“You know I like to celebrate the night we met, because it changed my life and I know it changed yours too. We found love together. We’ve made it thrive. We’ve kept it strong through the battles we’ve encountered. I want to keep our love thriving. Finders, keepers,” Chris glees as love makes his eyes twinkle.

As if on cue, Dodger raises a paw and places it on your lap. Tied lightly to his paw is a bubblegum pink ribbon which is holding a princess cut ring in place.

“Dodger wants you to be here forever too,” Chris whispers as he hands you the plate then unties the ribbon.

When the ring is free from Dodger’s paw and the ribbon, Chris cups your cheek and strokes your skin softly. You wouldn’t trade this man for any other in the world. He was right.

You and he found love with one another. The two of you made it thrive and survive with his busy work schedule and your fast pace career. You and he weathered battles together and always won.

“Marry me Y/N,” Chris whispers as he looks into your eyes.

You see the gleam of the love, and the forever he’s promising you.

You smile brightly, “yes.”

Chris smiles widely as he chokes back the tears. He reaches down and grabs your left hand. He slides the platinum band on your left fourth finger as you lean over and press your mouth against his.

Minutes later you pull faintly away from Chris, both of you breathless and filled with loved for one another. You wanted him; you didn’t care for the dessert you held in your hand.

“Chris,” you sigh happily, “I’d rather have you now then dessert.”

Chris grins as he stands and holds out his hand, “I see no harm in giving my fiancée what she wants.”

Fiancée, you think. You never thought about finding and keeping love until Chris walked into your life. Part of you grateful he liked celebrating the night you two met.

You hold onto Chris’s hand as he walks back through the kitchen, takes the plate from your hand and sets it inside of the fridge. The both of you move towards the bedroom.

Chris wraps you in his arms as he kicks Dodger’s lion out of the room and into the hallway then closes the door. Chris kisses you deeply as your hands travel up his arms and across his broad shoulders.

You place your hands on the back of his neck and pull away. You look into his blue eyes and smile. You then run a hand over his buzz cut. You like the short hair yet preferred it slightly longer so you could run your fingers through it.

“It’ll grow back,” Chris whispers.

“I know,” you whisper in return, “I’m soaking you in under a new light. Fiancé.”

Chris chuckles low in his chest, “wait till it’s husband. Missus future Evans. Future wife.”

You sweep your lips against Chris’, “well mister Evans, I want my dessert,” you roam your hands down the flannel shirt he is wearing and begin unbuttoning it, “and you are it.”

“You’re mine,” Chris growls as his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants.

He pushes his hand into your pants and palms your core. His fingers tease your folds as your fingers move quickly to open his flannel shirt, exposing his skin to your eyes and touch.

You move your hands up his muscular abdomen and chest. His skin is soft yet warm. You enjoyed burrowing into him on cold nights during a Massachusetts winter. He’d wrap his arms around you and hold you close. You’d inhale the cedar and lemon smell of his cologne, and know you were loved and at home.

You moan lowly as your body begins to hum with pleasure and consumed with heat. You walk Chris back towards the bed, making him remove his hand from your core. You push the flannel shirt off him then push him down on the mattress.

You straddle him and place kisses along his neck then across his collarbone. You move your mouth slowly down his chest and stomach. Your fingers fumbling with his pants. After getting them undone, you reach in with one hand and find him hard. You stroke him slowly, making sure you tease the tip with your thumb.

“Fu—mmm,” Chris moans as he feels your hand wrap around his cock.

You push down his pants, with his help, and reveal his lengthy and girthy cock to your eyes. You moan lowly in your chest before dipping your head and wrapping your lips around the tip. You swirl your tongue around rapidly as you let one hand stroke the rest of his length.

Chris’ hands move through your hair as his orgasm rises inside of him. He inhales a sharp breath as you move your mouth down his length slowly. Once your mouth hits the base you move your mouth back up his length, your salvia lathering him.

Chris’ low moans and slight pull on your hair encourages you to reach up and cup his balls. Your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock then you lick his entire length slowly up and down.

“Y/N,” Chris moans as his body ramps up on pleasure and his orgasm increases its buildup.

You lower your mouth onto his cock and bob your head up and down a few more times before you release it. You kiss your way back up his stomach and chest. You nip teasingly at his neck as his hands find their way under your shirt and onto your skin.

Chris places a finger under your chin, making you look at him. He grins as he lightly places a kiss on your lips then uses the strength he has to flip you onto your back.

You sit up for a second while Chris removes his pants. You discard your top and bra as well as wiggling out of your pants and underwear. You lick your lips as Chris returns to the bed and moans loudly at your naked body.

Chris runs a hand down your body and finds your core. You’re hot and wet. He grins against your skin as he hears a moan vibrate in your chest.

“Chris,” you sigh as pleasure seeps into your body.

Chris grazes his beard roughly against your flesh as be begins moving his mouth down your body. He knows the gratification you get from feeling the prickliness of hairs against your skin, he knows you like the burn marks his beard leaves on your skin.

Chris flicks one nipple as he moves a finger along your folds. His tongue swirls teasingly around the bud as his thumb grazes your clit.

“Fuuu—mmm,” you pant breathlessly. You need his tongue on your sensitive nub, you need to his beard against your sensitive flesh.

Chris flicks the other nipple before he continues moving his mouth down your stomach, making sure his beard grazes your skin roughly, sending your body further into the depths of fulfillment.

“Chris, please,” you plead in a whisper.

Chris dips his head between your legs and uses his fingers to open your folds. He moans inwardly at seeing your wetness and knowing how sweet you taste. Chris runs his tongue up your sensitive folds and swirls his tongue around your clit.

Your hands grasp the sheets under your body as you feel Chris’ tongue against your sensitive nub. You moan loudly as you feel his beard against the sensitive skin of your folds. He knows to pleasure you with both his tongue and beard against your most sensitive area.

You roll your hips lightly increasing the pleasure both his tongue and beard. Your orgasm rising inside of steadily as you feel euphoric in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you whisper in a pant, “Chris!”

Your orgasm is cresting, and you move one hand to his head. The prickliness from his buzz cut adds to the pleasure and sends your body into overdrive – your orgasm crashes inside of you making your body tremble.

“Chris!” You breathlessly pant as you let the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through your body.

Chris hums as he kisses your inner thighs. He scrapes his beard against your flesh.

Your fingers grasp the sheets as his beard sends goosebumps over your skin. You look down at him and see his trademark smirk.

“Yes?”

Your body is on a high from your orgasm and you need Chris inside of you more than ever. “I need you inside of me.”

Chris kneels between your open legs, “anything for you.”

He takes his hard cock and strokes your sensitive folds. When he hears your low moan he sinks himself slowly inside of you, making sure you feel every inch of him as he claims you again yet this time you are his fiancée, the forever love he’s been looking for his entire life.

Your breathing has increased as you feel Chris’ cock stretch you. Your slick walls wrap around him tightly as he lowers all of himself inside of your warmth and wetness.

Chris hisses as he feels your slick walls clutch his cock. You’re tight as glove around him as his entire length is buried deep inside of your depths. He feels your hands roam up his chest and land on his shoulders. He feels the light squeeze you give him – an encouragement for him to begin thrusting in and out of you.

Without hesitation, Chris begins pounding himself in and out you slowly, but his pace surging as his orgasm begins rising inside of him steadily. It was simmering and now that Chris inside of you, it’s cresting near the edge once again.

“Y/N,” Chris growls as his breathing quickens.

“Chris,” you moan in return as you lean forward and nip at his neck. Your teeth graze his skin lightly, then your tongue licks it slowly as you reach around him and dig your fingers into his back.

Your teeth and tongue send Chris over the edge. He thrusts into you once, then twice as he climaxes and empties himself inside of your pussy. He thrusts again, making sure every drop is inside of you.

Chris captures your mouth and kisses you deeply. He wraps his arms around you as you return his kiss. He feels you bring him down on top of you.

You don’t mind Chris’ body on top of yours. You enjoy his sweaty hot flesh against yours as you both come down from the highs of sex.

Chris pulls faintly away from your mouth. He notices the slight beard burn on your chin; he kisses the redden area lightly. Chris enjoys marking you, and with the ring on your finger, he knows he’s marked you forever.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Chris. Finders, keepers.”

#finders keepers oneshot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #oneshot #smut #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #fluff #beard burn #chris evans smut #im gonna leave this here

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Text

The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

----------------------------

When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

------------------

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

------------------

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.

------------------

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

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