#he once looked at a star system and said its so beautiful... and inspiring.... LIKE LOOKING AT GIRLS IN BIKINIS

[honeyhenry]

Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie​ is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause��I think i’d remember a face like yours” 

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement. 

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.” 

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him. 

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit. 

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs  to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-” 

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie​ @michelehansel​ @la-cey​ @palaiasaurus64​ @sassy-pelican​ @brandycranby​

Masterlist

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[annesthaeticc]

okay so remember earlier how i was thinking about writing a Venice Film Festival inspired piece? guess what, i couldn't resist writing it, so how about an excerpt? idk what would be the perfect title for this so i'll be welcoming suggestions!!!

i just really had to get it out of my system, lay out the works and stuff, and let's pray to God i pick this up after my exams

"Benedict! Benedict! Benedict!" The crowd went wild as he stepped out of the Lexus, shiny black leather shoes taking its first walks on the red carpet. He was wearing a classic suit and tie and you always thought men could never go wrong with such a choice. Your eyes followed him as he slowly cruised the carpet, strutting gracefully like a panther.

There was something different about the way he walked today. Like something had magnificently changed about him. Even behind the sea of photographers, you could sense the usual air of humility he carries with him but there was something else, something different about him.

You remember the first time you saw him in Venice. Exactly ten years ago since his debut in Venezia 68. You remember him wearing a blue suit; a shade darker than the one he wore earlier in the morning and his hair was blonde. That time, you were just starting, just like him. And you wrote a review about a different film.

But here you are now, once again sent by The Catalogue as their number one and resident film critic to attend Venezia 78. You were notorious for your harsh reviews; films that were seen by many and given with five star reviews were seen differently by you. Their five stars meant two or one star for you. Sure you have reviewed some that you had graced with four stars at the most, but those were rare.

It's just that, you haven't seen the film for you. The closest was probably The Piano, also by Jane Campion. And you hoped this one, this new masterpiece of hers called The Power Of The Dog will not disappoint you.

As the red carpet event finished, the theater started to fill. You were amongst the crowd, the lucky few who had the opportunity to watch it for the first time. You followed your mates, critics from other organizations, magazines and such, and silently listened to them as they listed what they were most looking forward to. Finally inside the darkened theater, you took your assigned seat and sat back as the opening credits enveloped the screen.

You were one of the many who stood up for the four minute standing ovation. It was fucking beautiful.

Benedict didn't know he had to come to play Truth or Dare with his mates that night. He was sure he entered his hotel's bar along with his friends to celebrate the premiere of film. He was also sure he ordered a few drinks and downed them. But he'll never ever know how they started to play Truth or Dare like they were in college.

"Benedict! Truth or Dare?" Dave asked him as he downed his whiskey neat.

"Dare," he said for the first time and everyone in the table cheered.

"I dare you, to say your corniest pick up line to that woman over there," Dave pointed to a spot right at the bar where you were coincidentally sitting.

"That's it?" he scoffed and raised his eyebrow. Everybody ooohh'd and Dave upped his challenge.

"You also need to buy her a drink." he added.

Ben finished his drink, plopped his glass on the table, and promised everyone he'll be back.

He didn't come back.

"Excuse me," Ben said as he sat next to you.

"Can I help you?" you clicked your pen and looked at him. You closed your notebook, turning your attention to him.

"Do you know what's in the menu?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know, I'm not sure,"

"Me 'n' u,"

"What?" you asked.

"Me 'n' u," Ben slowly enunciated each syllable this time, hoping you'd get it.

"Me 'n' u?" you whispered to yourself, trying to make sense of it.

Benedict watched you in amusement, his eyes sparkling. He lit up as he watched your face morph from confusion to mild surprise.

"Was that supposed to be a pick up line?" you asked, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Yes it is," he laughed, his baritone rumble vibrating in your eyes.

"That has to be the corniest one I have ever heard."

"And that was what I was aiming for, " he smiled and you couldn't help but do the same. His smile was infectious.

"Hi, I'm Ben,"

"Nice to meet you, Ben."

"And you are?"

"Erica," you stuck out your hand to shake his.

"My pleasure to meet you, Erica. Now I think it's only right to let me buy you a drink after that silly attempt of a pick up line, what do you think?"

"I think yes, that'd be the perfect. "

[scarletarosa]

Dagon

Greater god of the sea

While Dagon is not an outer god from the Void, he came from somewhere beyond our solar system and entered the Earth to dwell in its seas. He is still, however, an immensely powerful deity and is very difficult to comprehend. Furthermore, Dagon is the same deity worshiped by the Canaanites, Philistines, and Babylonians under the same name. He was praised as a fish-tailed god of the seas who ruled over fishing and agriculture. These civilizations all worshiped gods of water as agriculture gods due to water being needed for the irrigation of crops. Thus, he is not truly linked to agriculture, but it’s something he has secondary connection to because of water’s importance in the fertility of the land. When Lovecraft received his horrific visions of the outer gods, he witnessed some of the greater gods as well; one of which was Dagon, in his true form. This inspired Lovecraft to write stories, but he was unknowingly connecting to many truths in what he wrote since his mind was influenced by the vast deities who made themselves known to him.

Appearance: Dagon is an enormous, aquatic humanoid-amphibian with green-yellow eyes, and a massive sea serpent-like tail. He also has fins on his arms and legs. Overall, Dagon looks very similar to the above image.

Father Dagon is one of the greater gods who rule over the race of beings known as the Deep Ones. These are humanoid, fish-like beings who are often said to mate with humans, which produces a hybrid offspring. The hybrids are known to have the blessing of the sea and spend their lives feeling scorn for humanity. They are always filled with an overwhelming desire to abandon the land for the ocean and go to the Deep One city of Y'ha-nthlei. Eventually, they leave land to dwell in the sea once they are matured and more physically aquatic. Those humans who seek to be close to the sea and join its depths worship Father Dagon and his mate, Mother Hydra. These two gods are only surpassed by Cthulhu in regards to being deities of the ocean, since Cthulhu leads all of them, including the Deep Ones. Two known books which hold secrets of these gods of the deep are The Book of Dagon and the Cthäat Aquadingen.

In the ancient past, Dagon was one of the Shepherds of the Sea, meaning that he would watch over the sea creatures and protect them. He also used to come upon land at times and wander beaches before returning to the sea. Though now, since the ocean is full of toxins and is no longer alive with as much mystery and beauty (especially after the death of so many ancient sea-races), Dagon has been filled with sorrow. He now usually keeps to himself, deep in the shadowy depths of the ocean. Despite what some may believe, Dagon is not a being who is destructive and cruel; he is typically a very gentle god who is filled with great wisdom and compassion. However, when Dagon is angered, he is terrifying and can easily cause immense destruction. He is only willing to speak to humans who respect both him and the sea, especially since he has long been angry with our race for causing so much pollution and slaughter.

As one of the Lords of the ocean, Dagon is a mysterious and majestic deity who knows the sacred secrets of the deep, watery world surrounding us. For all the millions of years that have passed untold, the sea keeps the ancient knowledge hidden in its enigmatic depths. Those who worship Dagon earnestly and truly love the sea may have the rare honour to experience the truth of the ocean and some of the knowledge which Father Dagon holds. This can cause an immense sense of longing towards the sea as one wishes to delve into it and never return. We seek to become one with the ocean, forever in its embrace and beyond the reach of humanity. As the sea is the primal womb of our Earth, the Mother always beckons to her true children. There, Father Dagon and Mother Hydra await, calling their sons and daughters into the waves.

Offerings: aquamarine, turquoise, green calcite, amber, seashells, pearls, shark teeth, star fish, dried sea urchins, seaweed, crab shells, coral, sea sponges, cuttlefish bones, anything else from the sea (unharmed), limes, tangerines, watermelons, Mediterranean pinecones, calendula flowers. Listen to the song Dagon by Graham Plowman since it connects very well to his energy.

Incense burner with the following placed on it: at least three burning charcoals, clams, crushed sea urchins (dead), and sea salt. Burn these all together as an offering, but careful not to breathe it in due to the strength of smell.

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

[lady-charinette]

Can you do a reader insert for Ranmaru from Kakuriyo? Maybe a human brought to Orio-ya by Ougan douji to turn the old building into a restaurant and he's surprised that it's become so popular?

“That woman…” Ranmaru adjusted his position against one of the wooden beams supporting Orio-ya, hands crossed over his chest at the sight before him.

Ayakashi bustling about, Orio-ya’s staff cleaning and guiding customers to their seats and in the center of all the controlled chaos was one woman.

One human woman.

Mistress Ougon-douji had brought you into Orio-ya, there had been no doubt in Ranmaru’s mind where she found you.

Ever since Aoi and subsequently Tenjin’ya had visited their inn, life as they knew it began to change.

Ayakashi from far and wide visited their inn, intrigued by the knowledge of the temporary reunion between the two most popular inns, as well as Tenjin’ya’s resident human having been an esteemed guest. “Esteemed” might not have been the word Ranmaru would’ve used since the beginning of Aoi’s stay here, but that had certainly changed with time. Now that peace existed between the two inns, even Ginji visited more often.

And today was one of those days.

“There you are Ranmaru! The restaurant sure seems to be successful, its almost as popular as Aoi’s back at Tenjin’ya! What’re you doing here standing all alone? Huh?” the nine tailed fox followed the dog ayakashi’s line of sight and spotted you who’d transformed the old, unused section of their inn into a lively restaurant. A devious smile spread the sly fox’s lips, “Ah, I recognize that look.”

Ranmaru bristled, hair standing on end and tail hitting Ginji completely intentionally, “What are you talking about?” he barked, pushing himself off the beam and moving onto a different less populated area.

He didn’t notice your curious gaze staring at his back as he rounded the corner.

Ginji, of course, followed suit. “You look just like the Master whenever he looks at Aoi! They make quiet a couple, you know?” Ginji switched sides and moved to Ranmaru’s right, just in time to avoid the violent arm swinging at the spot he had previously been in.

“Nonsense! Maybe the sake got to you Ginji, you’ve never been a good drinker.” Ginji allowed the remark to slide, watching his childhood friend stomp his way towards the general direction of the receptionist desk.

He scoffed, a lopsided smile on his lips. “I haven’t, but you’ve never been a good liar, Ranmaru.” With a shake of his head, Ginji made his way back to the festivities, making his way towards you to ask if you needed help with anything.

It was late when the restaurant in Orio-ya closed, you were kindly helping customers up to their feet and back into the inn, their steps heavy and uneven as the sake still buzzed in their bodies.

Your back hurt from all the preparations made for the restaurant, at least you didn’t have to cook everything on your own, the talented chefs of Orio-ya had been more than welcome to help you out.

“Of course, you’re now a part of Orio-ya, we help each-other here.” You appreciated how attentive everyone seemed to you, willing to help you adjust in the Hidden Realm among ayakashi as a sole human.

Well, almost.

There was always Aoi, who had been a tremendous help in getting you back on your feet and making sure you were protected and could hold your own against ayakashi. Tenjin’ya’s master had been kind enough to recommend you to the mistress of Orio-ya for hired help, since they were short staffed and needed fresh ideas to get their inn back on track.

You were more than alright with that, you missed leading your own restaurant back at home, and since you didn’t have the same abilities as the ayakashi, you thought it might be best to stick to what you knew and help them out.

As it turned out, Orio-ya had accepted you fairly quickly. Apparently, Aoi had humbled them quite a bit, some staff members were a bit brutish towards you for being human, but for the most part you felt perfectly safe.

That was largely thanks to Orio-ya’s lead manager, Ranmaru. Having not met a dog ayakashi before, you had been pretty taken with him, especially due to his big mane and his fluffy tail. Not to mention those ears.

Unfortunately, he acted anything but like a dog.

He seemed to be more of a cat than a dog, at least like the animals in your world.

He would mostly avoid you if he could, slipping past you whenever he could, only appearing when it suited him. But you weren’t stupid, you felt his gaze whenever you ventured outside of the inn, taking a walk through the forest. You were warned not to venture too far away, for the possibility of encountering monsters or unfriendly ayakashi but so far, nothing happened to you.

You thought it might’ve something to do with the dog ayakashi always being somewhere in your vicinity. Far away enough he thought you wouldn’t notice, but close enough to keep an eye on you.

Hideyoshi once corrected you on Ranmaru being a komainu, a lion-dog ayakashi, not purely a dog ayakashi. When you asked what the difference was, Hideyoshi had been curiously tongue tied, just snapping at you to never treat him like a lowly dog from your world.

You’d felt mildly offended, what was wrong with dogs? They were cute and fluffy and very loyal companions. So far, Ranmaru didn’t seem to really fit her world dog’s description.

Well…he was fluffy. At least judging from his hair and tail.

And he was cute or at least as cute as you were willing to admit to yourself.

You did know he was loyal to Orio-ya and its inhabitants but you didn’t think that same loyalty extended to you yet..or if ever.

Ranmaru didn’t seem to like you very much, no matter how hard you worked at befriending him and getting on his good side. It just seemed like he put walls all around him to keep you as far away from him as possible.

Your troubled musings were interrupted when something hit the ground with a dull thud.

It was Ranmaru.

The komainu had set up a table near the edge of Orio-ya’s porch, overlooking the sea. A bottle of sake and two bowls were on the table.

He didn’t even look at you when he spoke, his voice low and uncharacteristically lacking the typical bite which he usually barked commands at you, “Sit.”

Debating whether or not to tell him you weren’t his servant nor a dog, you took a deep breath and decided to follow his lead. This had been his first direct attempt at engaging in conversation with you, at least conversation that so far didn’t have anything to do with Orio-ya or the restaurant.

You sat on the opposite side of him, your gaze straying to the beautiful night sky before your head whipped around at the sound of trickling liquid.

Ranmaru was pouring you sake.

Finally, his gaze briefly met your stunned one, scoffing at the bewildered look on your face. “You seem surprised,” he nudged the bowl of sake towards you, before moving to pour himself a cup.

This time, it was him that was stunned when your hands landed on his, gently taking the sake bottle from him. He seemed even more stunned when you poured him sake, “Can you blame me? This is the first time you tried to talk to me and didn’t just watch me from afar.”

The komainu seemed oddly flustered, whether at being caught red-handed or that you were aware of his guarded gazes.

He cleared his throat, choosing not to comment and taking a sip from his sake. You did the same.

You drank together quietly, at the now clean porch of Orio-ya, both staring up at the night sky littered with stars and the moon.

Perhaps it was the fatigue hitting you from working a full day at Orio-ya with the newly opened restaurant, or the alcohol in your system, but you felt compelled to utter the words that left your mouth, “You know, ever since coming here, I’ve been scared what would become of me. If I would survive in this world, or if I would ever find a way to go back to mine. Since I met Aoi and saw how happy she was here, I’m beginning to think that…maybe its alright if I don’t return to my world.” You stared down at the clear liquid in your bowl, watching the moon’s reflection staring back at your pensive face.

Ranmaru was listening intently, trying to find the right words to answer you. It seemed like the bowl of sake gave him the inspiration, or the confidence, to finally speak. “You’ve been adjusting rather well here, despite all your…shortcomings.”

You huffed in annoyance at his remark, turning your head away from him.

A low chuckle filled your ears and his voice followed, “I think you’ll live here just fine, as long as you stay at Orio-ya, that is.”

You looked back at him in surprise, blinking rapidly. “You…you want me to…stay?”

The ghost of a smile adorned the komainu’s handsome face. “You’ve opened up this restaurant, someone has to lead it.” He lifted his bowl to his lips, blue eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. “And…some of Orio-ya’s staff seemed to have…developed a soft spot for you.”

You weren’t sure if this was the sake talking or not, but you found yourself mirroring his stance, your voice soft when you said, “Well…I…developed a soft spot for…them too.” You could feel your cheeks heating up but blamed it on the alcohol.

The stars seemed to wink down at you, so mesmerized were you at their beauty that you failed to catch Ranmaru’s gentle smile.

Thanks for reading! It’s been a long while since I wrote for the fandom, so I hope it’s not too OOC and that you liked it :3

[tcm]

Minnelli Magic and The Band Wagon By Constance Cherise

Period piece perfection, attention to detail and an impeccable eye. You simply cannot rival Oscar winner and three-time Golden Globe winner Vincente Minnelli during the height of his career. It was as if the musical Technicolor coming-of-age was waiting for his destined arrival. But, what else would you expect from the former art director of Radio City Music Hall? There, he designed and eventually directed monthly stage shows (Minnelli designed the iconic Parade of Wooden Soldiers costume, still in use for the annual Radio City Christmas Spectacular) before his imminent second coming to Hollywood.

There is a bevy of activity in MGM’s THE BAND WAGON (‘53), which easily turn this entry into a three-page essay. An ideal introduction for a novice, THE BAND WAGON is a visual encapsulation of the glorious movie musical as well as a quintessential vehicle for Minnelli to once again prove his raison d'être. Comprised of a “hundred or more little things,” THE BAND WAGON is a sheer explosion of joy with its ideal cast of characters, visually captivating sets and driving musical orchestrations which move the film along at an even pace, producing the industry standard of “That's Entertainment.” Its jaunty Broadway opening score sounds as if we’re sitting in a vaudeville theatre enjoying a live pit orchestra and on its own, is enough to lift spirits. The plot is simple. A washed-up hoofer attempts a comeback on the Broadway stage. Comedic pandemonium ensues.

No other film probably reflects Minnelli's former Radio City stage experience more than this backstage musical. The rehearsal scene where sections of the stage revolve, lift and lower, stage queues get confused and all goes amusingly wrong, was no doubt a reference to Radio City's elevator hydraulic system. Minnelli’s expertise in stage design is given an appropriate nod with the Proscenium Theatre models that appear on the shelf behind the couch in Jeff Cordova’s yellow reception room. However, this is not Minnelli's only production that offers us an insider's perspective. A film removing the Hollywood gloss, equally as exquisite, even in black and white, is the wickedly fun THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL (‘52).

The majority of the main characters were based on some aspect of themselves or real-life people. Characters Lily and Lester Marton were based on screenwriters/lyricists Betty Comden and Adolph Green, who were already industry colleagues with Minnelli, as both also toiled on Broadway before arriving in Hollywood. Fred Astaire honestly felt that Cyd Charisse was too tall for him and his angst was written into the script. Oscar Levant was a true-life hypochondriac.

Of course, humor is not lost wherein the opening scene an auctioneer references Swinging Down to Panama as an amusing referral to the Astaire and Rogers film, FLYING DOWN TO RIO (‘33). Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney’s backyard musicals receive a playful jab when Lester (Oscar Levant) heartily states, "Why can't us kids get together and put on ourselves a show?” Our introduction to Jeff Cordova (Jack Buchanan) through the theatre poster—Jeff Cordova presents, adapted from... Jeff Cordova, starring Jeff Cordova, (pause, pan out and down) directed by Jeff Cordova— is the ideal introduction to the character’s omnipresent ego. Listening to the vocals of “You and the Night and the Music” with its embellished bravado, along with the excess of explosives could cause an individual to start coughing in sympathy. The film is brimming with sophisticated comedy, surely inspired by cocktail-charged, jovial conversations in smoke-filled rooms.

As usual, Minnelli’s sets are vibrant and imaginative. Cordova's home has an elegant Paul Williams aura. Even the doors are glamorous. Each room is painted in various colors to reflect different moods, including the ever-present Minnelli Red. In the theatre, where we are first introduced to Gabrielle (Cyd Charisse), the surreal stage backdrop is dreamy and existential with its combination of calming hues. I always look forward to that simplistically stunning scene. 

Speaking of Charisse, where was costume designer Mary Ann Nyberg all of our lives? It took me some time to realize the intricacies of the black A-line dress Charisse wears when arriving at Cordova’s home, more than likely because I was coveting her green gloves. Fashion fans, please gather. A scalloped black lace top is coupled with a green A-line underskirt bottom that is overlapped with black lace. The entire dress is covered in shimmering green sparkles. It is delicately romantic and ingenious all together, and is the most beautiful costume in the film, until the “New Sun in the Sky” number.

Nyburg hits the bullseye, creating a depiction of the sun manifested in the form of a dress. She then adds a red tulle arm puff. It is perfection until Charisse peels herself from a full-length jacket to reveal her dazzling red dress in the “Girl Hunt” ballet, which she claimed was her favorite costume. Charise performs an iconic dance in a nightclub once again as she did with Gene Kelly in SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (‘52) and once again, those legs! Nyberg isn't done. The final scene finds Nanette Fabray in a blue and black A-line tulle gown and Charisse in a sweetheart neckline, moss green taffeta, fitted, biased cut gown, with so many details this will turn into a run-on sentence.

Many classic musical fans consider “Dancing in the Dark” one of the most romantic scenes put on film. After a contentious working relationship Tony (Astaire) and Gabrielle must learn if they truly can dance together to foster a hit show, which of course they do at night in the park, alone. Naturally, it is also the budding of their love affair. There was one notable scene that ended on the cutting room floor, “Two-Faced Woman,” and I am convinced it was a mistake to remove because its double-sided origami-like set design is exquisitely unique. However, it is easily found online and absolutely worth watching.

A barrage of aesthetically lush scenes appear in Minnelli films, executed so dynamically well you don't consciously realize how much is being absorbed and that is his exact tool of entrapment. A visual assault of the senses that naturally entices into his vortex. Critic Derek Malcolm had it exactly right when he said “The more you look at it, the more perfect it seems. Hollywood doesn't make films like this now because public taste has changed. But it's doubtful if they could anyway.”

It is doubtful that today's Hollywood could conjure the artistry of THE BANDWAGON, as it retains the same timeless light-hearted exuberance over 65 years later. Not only is that exceptional directing, it is pure Minnelli magic.

[padme-amitabha]

Anidala Week 2021

Day 3: Mythology/Fairy Tales or Favorite Touches

A Serpent in the Garden of Eden

This is based on Hindu mythology about two lovers named Behula and Lakhindar. Some aspects of the original story have been tweaked :)

Once upon a time, two seraphs in the kingdom of heaven fell in love – a love so deep and profound they would attract the envy of the other angels who served in the court of gods. They were Vader and Amidala, the most beautiful out of all the angels.

Vader was descended from the bloodline of the Father himself, creator of the heavens. Vader with his enormous black wings – a black as sinful as midnight – was the angel of death. He could be as beautiful or terrible as the person whose soul he intended to take with him.

Amidala was descended from the Sister, the deity of light, love and purity. She was the queen of the celestial maidens. She inspired all to follow her and was well loved by the citizens of Zion. Her soft wings were as white and pure as snow itself.

This couple’s union caused quite a stir in court and attracted the attention of everyone. The gods felt they were an excellent match and gave them their blessing to marry. They lived together in harmony for centuries and had many children including the twins Luke and Leia, who became deities of the sun and the moon. But after a while, like most immortal beings, they grew weary of living eternal life and craved adventure. They desired to be reincarnated and sent to Earth so that they could find each other and fall in love with each other all over again. The gods granted them this request.

Amidala, being the elder of the two angels, was sent to earth first as the youngest daughter in a well-off family in Theed. Four years later, Vader was sent as the son of a woman named Shmi. Shmi Skywalker was a middle-aged woman who lived on her own in a city called Mos Espa. It so happened that her family had been cursed and killed by the god of snakes and destruction, Sheev due to a grudge he bore against the Skywalkers. He had spared her since she was a child at the time, intending her to become his devotee, but the iron-willed Shmi vowed never to worship the god who had taken away her family.

Sheev, a vindictive god, was affronted by her refusal and placed a curse on her. Any child born of her would never reach adulthood. Shmi went on to have six sons and all of them died under mysterious circumstances in their infancy and Shmi suspected it was from snakebites. Which made sense, of course, since snakes were associated with the conniving god and it was said that was how he took the lives of people who incurred his wrath.

When she found herself with child again, she briefly considered giving in to Sheev. This seventh son was conceived without a Father and Shmi suspected a divine intervention. The child was born with stars in his eyes that reflected infinite wisdom. He was too aware as a child and emitted a godly aura. Shmi knew he was no ordinary human child as soon as she held him in her arms. With his unnaturally bright blue eyes and soft golden curls, he looked like an angel descended from the heavens. Shmi named him Anakin.

Shmi was fiercely protective of her boy and always kept a close eye on him. Anakin was not to step a foot out of their extremely safeguarded house. Anakin, naturally because Vader’s essence still lived inside him, was born with the desire to explore worlds and make a name for himself. But he was aware that his mother’s overprotectiveness came from the sorrows she had endured so he (mostly) remained an obedient child. He dreamed of leaving his house once he reached the age of twenty-one for that would render the curse null and void. 

As a child, he had discovered he was an excellent craftsman and a natural artist. He painted everything he had heard Shmi talk about the world beyond Mos Espa and even Tatooine. Sometimes, images would flash in his mind about a place where there was only happiness. These visions would also show him a strangely familiar face.

Anakin hadn’t seen many girls and most of the women he had encountered were his mother’s age but he knew she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He wasn’t certain she really existed and perhaps, she was just a figment of his imagination and he decided to bring her to life with a portrait. He deftly painted her big brown eyes, delicate features and soft brown hair. It proved to be his finest work.

Meanwhile, Shmi began looking for a potential bride for Anakin. She knew he was lonely and she knew she wouldn’t be around forever to look after him and Anakin had just turned twenty. He had been mostly nonchalant to the girls she had considered for him and spent an awful amount of time thinking about some fictitious girl of his dreams.

She went to Jira, the fruit seller, who lived nearby. The old woman knew every girl in vicinity and she had doted on Anakin since he was little. Shmi told herabout Anakin’s reluctance to marry.

“Don’t look so down, Shmi. I have good news for you,” Jira assured her. “I know about Anakin’s curse and it seems like we have found a solution. A month ago, I visited my sister in Theed and heard the most interesting news. The Naberries are devotes of Shiraya and on a recent visit to the temple, they have heard a prophecy about their second daughter. It is said she would never be a widow.”

Shmi rejoiced at the news. If Anakin were to wed this girl, that would secure his life. “Where can I find this girl?” she asked.

Anakin did not want to marry this girl. His mother had gushed about her countless qualities. Shmi believed she was as special as her own son.  She was well known in all of Theed for being wits, virtues and beauty. But he was growing weary of living life as a prisoner inside his own home and he longed to live a normal life. Maybe this Naberrie girl was the answer. He agreed to meet her.

All his initial reluctance faded once he saw her. It was her. The girl from his dreams.

Anakin immediately agreed to marry Padmé, who seemed just as much taken with him as he was with her.

On their wedding night, Shmi prepared a chamber for them and took every precaution to keep out any snakes that could slither in. Unfortunately, Sheev was one step ahead of her. He conspired with Watto, the builder, to sabotage their accommodation and leave a carefully concealed hole.

Anakin and Padmé were fast asleep on their wedding night, after conversing for hours about their shared visions and memories. The snake upon gazing at the couple felt a pang of regret and hesitated to bring misfortune upon the innocent young couple. Sheev then used his godly powers to compel the serpent and charmed Padmé to fall into a deep slumber. The snake caused the lamp kept next to the couple’s bed to topple and the spills of hot oil forced Padmé to wake and she found her husband bitten by the serpent. She took out the dagger she always carried with her and with she threw it at the snake, which caused its tail to be chopped in half.

Shmi rushed to her son’s side but it was too late. The poison was already in his system and within a few hours, Anakin was dead. Shmi was inconsolable with grief and so was Padmé after becoming a widow at such a young age.

As per the tradition, Anakin’s body was to be put on a raft and set to sail on the river as was done to people who died from snake bites. Padmé refused to accept his death.

All her life, she had known her husband would never die before her. She wished to be on the raft and accompany him. The people thought she had lost her mind from the grief. She waited for them to leave after the ritual and then sneaked in the raft and started sailing on the river. She prayed to the gods to not let the raft sink.

It was said if you went far enough, you would reach the heavens. And that exactly was Padmé’s intention. She would enter heaven and beg the gods to restore Anakin back to life.

The gods were impressed by her perseverance and put her through many trails along the way. Padmé, with Amidala’s essence in her, proved she was worthy and passed them all.

When she reached the heavens, the gods welcomed her.

“We are impressed by your devotion to your husband,” said Yoda, the god of wisdom.

“Then help me by bringing him back to life,” pleaded Padmé.

“It is too late,” said Sheev, ever the schemer. “You have taken too long to reach here. We can only resurrect him within 3 days of his death. You have taken a week.”

Padmé was heartbroken. She besought them to find another way for her to be reunited with her Anakin again or take her life as well.

“There is a way,” said Qui-Gon, the god of compassion, thoughtfully.

“We can make him a god again, as he was once. But he would be bound to serve another god for eternity. That is the price you must pay.”

Sheev was quick to step up and offer to be Anakin’s master and Shmi, realizing her son’s life was more important to her, allowed Anakin to be Palpatine’s apprentice.

Shaak Ti, the goddess of power, was impressed by Padmé and offered to take her in if she was willing to give up her mortal life. Padmé agreed without a second thought. Anakin was restored to life and he was euphoric on seeing his beloved at his side. He felt very fortunate on having such a capable woman as his wife. In the end, Padmé’s endurance and good faith was rewarded. The couple was welcomed back in heaven as gods, reunited after the adventure of a lifetime, and as the happiest of husbands and wives.  

[writtenjewels]

Remote part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Nule read in one of his books that plants thrived if people spoke to them. The carbon dioxide that humans naturally expelled was used as nutrients. So he decided to practice with his new bellflower and tell it things about himself in preparation for John's next visit. Nule really had no idea what he should say; the only other person he ever spoke with before was Father, and he of course already knew what Nule liked and disliked.

It dawned on him far too late that he hadn't asked John to bring him anything or prepare descriptions to share on his next visit. In fact, it was the promise of Nule talking that was going to bring John back, and that made him a little nervous. He had examples of friendships in his books to take inspiration from. Friends told each other jokes sometimes or did things together. Maybe John would want to do something with Nule.

He went into the simulation room to look through all the programs. Being Alliance, would John enjoy a combat sim? Or did he encounter enough combat and would prefer something more relaxed? Obstacle courses, weights, and the new one that was supposed to help Nule train in biotic flotation. He paused on that option. He should start training right away; Father would be expecting a report on his next visit. His finger hovered over the command for a moment before swiping it away.

John's voice hailed him a few days later. Nule paced back and forth waiting eagerly for the man to dock. One last time he ran over all the things he planned to talk about: his favorite books, the music he listened to, the simulations. He wouldn't say anything about his biotic training, of course, but he could talk about the obstacle courses and the mazes Father had him run to keep him physically and mentally fit. John stepped inside cradling a rock in his hand.

“Another gift?” Nule asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it's a geode. A lot more interesting than a Luna rock.” John handed it over and Nule studied the geode from different angles, marveling at how its crystals caught the light and caused it to glitter. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

“It's like what people must have imagined stars were made of,” he smiled. “Sit down, I'll make you some coffee.” John did as he was told and Nule joined him a moment later with two mugs of coffee. He noted that John chose the couch this time. Nule settled on a recliner and took a sip of coffee to prepare himself.

“I like to read,” he began. “Especially adventure stories. When I was younger I got into ones where the hero went through space fighting evil and falling in love. But I like reading about anything. Father brought me cookbooks once and sometimes brings me ingredients so I can cook things. I tried baking but I think I like cooking better. It encourages more experimenting and improvising.”

“What kind of things do you cook?” John asked him.

“Oh, just simple things. Rice curry, stir fry, steak.”

“Steak is not simple,” John interrupted with a laugh. “I've had some that tasted like I was chewing an old tire. If you can cook one that's edible, that's pretty amazing.” Nule smiled bashfully at that and rubbed his thumb along the crystals of his geode. John was so nice. Whatever Father said about the rest of the Alliance had to be wrong about John. Nule couldn't believe that this friendly man who brought him gifts would torture a biotic or make them addicted to red sand.

“I listen to music,” he continued. “I like instrumental the best, but I don't know if I like quarian or human the best. Do you know the song 'Vigil'?” A smile spread out over John's face and he nodded. “It's one of my favorites,” Nule confessed. “Here, let me play it now.” He walked over to the sound system and typed in a command. A few moments later music started filtering through the room.

“Beautiful,” John nodded. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “Nule, could you tell me something: who is your father protecting you from? Why are you in danger?”

“Oh.” Nule's good mood faded. “I shouldn't talk about that.”

“It's just... I've been thinking about it ever since you first mentioned it, and I've been really worried about you. Don't get me wrong, you can definitely handle yourself. I just want to know how I can help you. I can find these people who want to hurt you.”

“No.” Nule curled into himself. “You can't help me. You... the Alliance...

“Are you saying the Alliance wants to hurt you? But that doesn't make any sense.”

“It's... It's because...” No, he shouldn't say it. You're a biotic, Nule. A freak of nature. The Alliance will feed you red sand just to abuse your gift. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and he reacted without thinking, pushing away with his biotics. John went flying across the room and crashed into a bookshelf. “John! Shit, shit, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!” Panicked, he hurried over to the marine.

“I'm fine,” the man coughed. “Wish I was wearing my armor, though. That was a hell of a throw.” He groaned and managed to get to his feet.

“Are you sure? I have medi-gel.”

“I'm just a little winded.” John gave him an assessing look. “I did always wonder how it would feel to get tossed around by a biotic. So I guess that's one item checked off the bucket list.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Nule demanded. “Aren't you scared of me?”

“Why would I be?” John shrugged.

“Because...” Nule's head dropped. “Because I'm a biotic. I'm a freak of nature.”

“Nule, I swear I will wring your dad's neck if I ever meet him,” John growled. “I can't believe he taught you that bullshit. He's not wrong that people see biotics that way, but letting you see yourself that way? What an absolute asshole.” Nule opened his mouth but couldn't find any words. “Biotics are just people; nothing freaky about them at all.”

“Oh,” was all Nule could manage. Had Father lied to him? No, Father would never do that. He only wanted to protect Nule and keep him safe. He was just being overprotective, that was all. “But doesn't the Alliance use biotics?”

“Yeah, of course they do. They make great soldiers. Oh.” John nodded, as if understanding something. “That's what your father's worried about with you: that the Alliance will want to conscript you. But it's not like you'd be forced to join if you didn't want to. Isolating you like this is taking it to an extreme.” Again Nule was at a loss for words. Everything he thought he understood was being put into question.

“I think you should go,” he said quietly.

“Nule...”

“I need to think,” Nule insisted. “Please go.”

“Okay,” John agreed, taking a reluctant step back. “But I'm coming back.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

Lie Alone

A/N  In commenting on the last installment in the Metric universe, I said that Jamie’s date with Claire was complete dating wish fulfillment on my part.  Which got me thinking about their next date and what other personal preferences I could cram into this story.  And yet it’s definitely Claire’s turn to take Jamie for a spin, which meant that... well, you’ll see!

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Blanco White (another guest artist!) that inspired the title and which features in the fic can be heard here: https://youtu.be/SNp7sb5vXTs

Big shout out to @holdhertightandsayhername, who introduced me to this artist in her marvelous fic The Sands of Time.  

June 21, 2018, London, England

Sassench:  Do you have plans later Fraser?

Wee Fox Cub:  depends r u making a better pffer?

Sassench: Meet me out front at Joe’s.  5pm.

Wee Fox Cub: :thumbs up emoji:

Sassench:  And Jamie?  Wear something tight.  Preferably leather.

Wee Fox Cub:  ...

***

He couldn’t imagine what Claire had in mind, but he’d cancelled his plans to watch the England South Africa test match with the lads and was instead haunting the kerb in front of her temporary lodging, wearing fitted black jeans and his leather jacket, despite the sunny mid-summer weather.  When his date hadn’t emerged from the building by 4:05, he pulled out his phone.  An approaching mechanical thrum interrupted him mid-text.

The first thing he noticed were her boots: black, with a thick rubber sole and chunky heel.  These were zipped over leather pants that clung to her coltish legs like a second skin, matching the matte gleam of the motor between them.  A leather jacket, the tailored twin of his own, hugged her narrow waist.  By the time his eyes had scrolled upward, a visored helmet was being removed, and Claire’s familiar hair and teasing brass eyes appeared.

“You’re staring, Jamie,” she remarked.  The fact that the voice was his roommate’s usual no-nonsense tone, seasoned with a touch of humour, was a necessary dash of reality.  

“Aye,” he admitted.  “Tis a verra beautiful... machine ye’re ridin’, Sassenach.  Is it yers?”

Her curls danced in the sunlight as she shook them out.

“God, no.  Joe only let me borrow it after I promised to cover his next two on-call shifts.  But don’t worry!  I practically grew up on a motorcycle.  I’ve had my license since I was sixteen.”

He filed this information away in the cluttered part of brain entitled Things I Never Expected to Learn about Claire Beauchamp. Accepting a second helmet, he swung himself onto the seat behind her.  His legs bracketed her hips in an unfamiliar, but by no means unpleasant, inversion.  Claire revved the motor, sending a shiver up his spine.  His arms wrapped around her waist, and they pulled into the slow flow of traffic.

“Comfy?”  Her voice startled him, low and intimate, coming from directly behind his ear.   He realized belatedly that the helmets were furnished with a communications system.

“Aye,” he asserted, although comfortable wasn’t exactly the word he’d use for his current state.  Somewhere between apprehensive and exhilarated would be more accurate.  “Will we make it tae our destination afore sundown, do ye think?”

She chuckled warmly, reaching back with one hand to tap him on the knee.

“Never you fear, my lad.  I have our urban escape route all planned out.  We’ll be flying in no time.”

She wasn’t wrong.  After a series of abrupt stops and starts, they dipped below the Thames in a well-lit tunnel, the echo of passing lorries muting all other sound.  Soon after that they were picking up speed on a wide motorway, the bike crouching against the wind.  He watched the throbbing mass of the city peel away, slowly giving way to greenery and the pastel light he associated with freedom.  He thought they were heading south along the Orbital into Surrey, but beyond that he had no notion of their whereabouts.  

Giving himself up into her care, he settled against Claire’s back, the crescent of her arse fitting neatly into the bowl of his thighs.  He was aware of being aroused, but it was a hazy rather than a sharp feeling, blunted by contentment.  If Claire was offended by the firmness pressing into her rump, she gave no sign.

After several hours of almost meditative motion, they turned onto a country lane, overhung by a leafy canopy.  Tidy Tudor buildings overlooked the road, their leaden windows glowing orange in the setting sun.   Their motorcycle joined a parade of vehicles ascending a low hill in a series of sharp turns.  Each time the bike navigated one of these, he was forced to tighten his grip on Claire’s torso, which by now felt like an extension of his own body.  He glowed like one of those panes of glass, molten and reflecting back the warmth that radiated from the core of who she was.  

The forest thinned into green hillside as they reached a parking lot.  He couldn’t help but feel disappointment as he observed the crowds.  Wherever they were, it was obviously a popular destination.  On the bike, he’d felt peculiarly isolated, alone with Claire, their conversation eased by the intermediary of the microphones.  Now he’d have to share her with the world.

He groaned as he unfolded his long legs to stand upright, and Claire grinned.

“They don’t make motorcycles in your size, I’m afraid.”

“An’ wha’ size is that, Sassenach?” he hummed suggestively while stretching his arms high above his head, untucking his shirt in the process.

Claire’s eyes dipped to where his belly was briefly exposed, then lower.

“Large,” was her bold answer, and he shot her a wickedly pleased glance.

After a beat she visibly gathered herself, reaching into the storage compartment behind where he had been sitting and pulling out a small bag and his plaid, which had somehow stayed in her possession after the fire.

“Are you up for a short hike?”

“For ye, Sassenach, anything.”

They meandered through an oak wood, then up a series of crude steps, until finally arriving on a grassy slope, the land falling away steeply to the south.  Low ridges and shallow valleys furled below them like gentle waves, reaching out to the horizon where the sun was preparing to set.  The air was fragrant, the ground releasing the heat of the day.

“One of my many boarding schools wasn’t far from here,” Claire explained as she spread the blanket near their feet.  “I must have been fourteen or so, and having a terrible time fitting in.  Uncle Lamb came to visit, probably at the headmaster’s behest, and this is where he took me.  I don’t remember what he said, but by the time we left, I felt better.  More at peace.  In lockstep with the larger order of things.   I’ve come back, now and then.  Any time I needed to find that feeling again.”

As she spoke, Claire emptied the small bag of its contents.  He recognized the logo from a deli they both frequented on two wrapped sandwiches, along with a pint of strawberries, some crisps, a lemonade and a bottle of his favourite summer ale.  She’d thought of everything, and it snagged at his heart.

“Tis bonnie.  I’m honoured ye wanted tae share it with me, Sassenach.”

They ate slowly, savouring the simple meal as the sky above their heads smudged from orange to pink to ever-deepening shades of purple.  One by one, the stars twinkled to life, like so many travelers lighting their fires for the night.  Away from the city, they numbered in the thousands, each a signpost on someone’s journey.  His mind spread out to fill the space between them, taking his thoughts to Lallybroch, moments from his youth long forgotten, the steadying hand of his parent’s guidance.  Claire was right.  Something about the place invited serenity.  He sighed with pleasure, tension he hadn’t even acknowledged draining slowly down his spine.

Claire’s hand crept across the blanket, and their pinkie fingers met, then overlapped.  As the air around them cooled, the breeze picked up, and he felt her shiver.

“Ye’re cold.  We should be on our way, aye?”

“Wait.  There’s one more thing I want you to see.”

He could think of several more things he wanted to see, but they were well hidden by leather and her guarded nature.  He’d known when he proposed this season of courtship that the road to Claire’s heart would be long and arduous, with many twists and lay-bys.  There could be no rushing the voyage.  He was confident the destination, should he be granted entry, would be worth any hardship.  And thankfully the views along the way were spectacular in their own right.

He’d been watching her profile out of the corner of his eye when the horizon burst into multi-coloured song.  Purple starbursts and red streamers exploded across a black canvas, followed by a pulsing yellow orb.  In the milliseconds before his consciousness caught up with the evidence, he was captivated.  Then he physically recoiled, expecting pain in the form of a cascade of memories.  Instead, the symphony of light continued without a sound.  He looked at Claire in awe.

“The wind is to the north, so it’s blowing the sound in the other direction.  I checked before I picked you up,” she explained.

The fireworks continued for another ten or fifteen minutes.  He’d never be quite sure, because he was lost in sensation.  The beautiful display was completely over-shadowed by the beauty of the woman beside him, her tiny finger still laced with his own.  

“Ye ken tis I who’s supposed tae be courtin’ ye, don’t ye, Sassenach?” he commented when a final fury of light gave way once again to stars.

“Says who?” she sniffed, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitch upwards.  

After performing a mental inventory of any and all physical impediments, he leaned slowly into her side, his intention unmistakable.  His heart thrilled when Claire met him halfway, her mouth damp and tart from the lemonade.  It was a kiss that walked the boundary between chaste and sensual, and he wished it could last forever.

“Thank ye, Claire.  Truly.”

At a loss for words for once, she dipped her head in acknowledgement.  They silently gathered their things and walked hand-in-hand to the bike.

The ride back to London was swift, with music taking the place of conversation.  A particularly beautiful song, poetic and wistful, left him feeling that Claire was speaking to him through its words; words she could not yet find the courage to say.  Accompanied by only a single guitar, a male voice rose in wistful intensity.

So I lie alone, and risk each night, I long to let you in But there's a life I lost, drifted out, before You let me in.

His fingers found their way beneath her jacket and rested on the warm skin of her belly.  He felt her soft skin give a shudder, like a ripple of wind across the still surface of a pond.

The motorway ribboned out beneath them.  The journey had only just begun.

*

*

*

*

Because this is a multi-disciplinary blog, here’s a shot of the view that Jamie and Claire enjoyed in this fic, which is Box Hill in Surrey (taken from Google Earth, as I’ve never been).

And here’s Claire’s bike!

[imbeccablee]

DekuShield Week Day 1: First Kiss

soooo apparently my first post got eaten by tumblr??? I was gonna submit it to the dekushield tumblr itself but apparently it doesn't have submissions on lmao. oh well, hopefully this one gets through!!

anyway, so here's a little Christmas special!

(yes I know its October and no I don't care)

enjoy!!

--

When All Might told Izuku the two of them had been invited back to I-Island for a Christmas celebration with the Shield family, Izuku had been ecstatic.

He'd really gotten along with Melissa and though things had gotten a little rough with David near the end there, he truly respected the man and knew All Might still trusted him. Izuku was really excited to see the two of them again (maybe one more than the other…), and he was really looking forward to seeing I-Island again!

Now that he's here, though, in the midst of the aforementioned party, Izuku can't help but feel sick to his stomach.

And like, not necessarily in a bad way? It's hard to explain, really. Like, he had been almost giddy with excitement, but the moment he and All Might met up with Melissa and David, all those happy feelings turned into anxiety and nervous energy. He couldn't form sentences correctly, couldn't sit still, he was hyper aware of everything that was going on - he'd almost think he was having a panic attack if he didn't acutely know how those actually felt. But at the same time, he knew he didn't want to be anywhere else in the whole world at that moment. He just doesn't understand it!

And the feeling had persisted all throughout the day, as Melissa and David escorted them to their hotel and to the new additions that had been built in their time away. Izuku wondered if he had suddenly gotten sick, but that wouldn't explain the lingering positivity, nor the fact that All Might seemed perfectly fine, and the man's immune system was worse than Izuku's.

Even now, as he stands off to the side of the party, clinging to his cup of soda like a lifeline, he feels like keeling over on the spot. All Might had left him briefly, having been pulled away by David so he could introduce the retired hero to some of his newer scientist friends, so now Izuku is just awkwardly standing alone, looking like he's about to die on the spot.

This is why I don't do parties…

"Ah, Deku!" 

Izuku jolts violently, some of his drink spilling over the side of his cup and onto his hands, and whips towards the voice. Melissa stands to the side of him, looking unfairly beautiful in her elegant, floor-length dress. His voice catches in his throat as he tries to respond and the sick feeling rockets up to an eleven. He feels like he might throw up, but also like he's two seconds away from breaking out into song, and he doesn't understand.

"Deku?" Melissa's face has taken on a confused note and Izuku realizes he's just been staring at her like an idiot.

He clears his throat, but he still sounds ragged when he says, "H-Hey, Melissa." They both flinch in unison.

"Oof," she says in English, before switching to Japanese. "You don't sound too good. Are you feeling alright?"

And then she steps closer so she can press her hand to his forehead. He physically feels blood rush into his face as her hand lands on his skin, and she gasps. "You're burning up! Let's go find Uncle Might, he can take you back to the hotel. You shouldn't be here if you're sick - "

"W-Wait, no, I-I'm fine, just," he tries to protest, still reeling from the gentle touch of her soft hand on his face.

"No, if you're not feeling well, you should rest!" she insists, before taking his free hand (making his heart flip) and pulling him toward where, presumably, All Might is. "You need to take better care of yourself, Deku."

"Melissa, please, I-I swear I'm fine!" he says again, allowing himself to be dragged through the crowd and toward his mentor.

"Uncle Might!" Melissa calls out and Izuku groans softly.

All Might turns at the sound of his name and greets the two of them. "Young Melissa, Young Midoriya, how are you two doing? Enjoying the party?"

Melissa pulls Izuku up beside her and he barely has enough time to be flustered over how her heels make her absolutely tower over him when he's so close before she says, "Deku isn't feeling well, I'm gonna take him back, alright?"

All Might's content joy turns to worry in an instant. "Young Midoriya, you're feeling unwell? Why didn't you say any - well, actually, that's quite in-character now that I think about it."

Izuku ducks his head in embarrassment and exasperation at the blatant callout for a moment, before lifting his eyes and saying, "Really, I'm fine! It's just hot in here, that's all!"

The two of them stare at All Might with pleading eyes, both trying to get him to do the opposite the other wants. All Might looks a little pinned down.

Finally, All Might says, "Um, well, how about this? Young Midoriya takes a breather outside and Young Melissa can watch him, and if he doesn't get any better, I'll take him back to the hotel."

Melissa huffs a little, but nods. "I suppose that's fine."

Izuku nods. "Yeah, alright." He wasn't lying when he said it was hot inside. Maybe he just needs some fresh air.

He follows Melissa outside until she stops at the street, under one of the street lamps. It's dark enough now that all of them have turned on, as have the light-up Christmas decorations on the surrounding buildings, making everything glow in pretty reds, greens, and blues.

The cold air is already doing wonders on his face. He does feel a bit sick still, but he can feel himself calming down. Maybe he'd just had too much excitement all at once; his day had been jam-packed with reunions and tours. Not to mention, spending all day with Melissa, an incredible, inspirational,, and stunning girl, probably had something to do with his nerves.

Speaking of, he should probably thank her for caring so much. Even if he didn't want to fully leave the party yet (mostly 'cause he doesn't want to disappoint All Might), it made his heart sing that she was so concerned for him.

He turns towards her, mouth opening with a thank you on his tongue, when he sees her shivering, arms wrapped around herself. His thanks dies on his tongue, replaced with, "Melissa! You're cold!"

Way to state the obvious, genius.

Melissa giggles a little, her smile twisted into something mirroring a grimace. "A little. But it's fine, we'll be back inside sooner or later."

Izuku's having none of it. He shrugs off his jacket and feels a chill crawl up the skin under his shirt. Ignoring it, he steps closer to her and quickly wraps his jacket around her shoulders, pulling it tight over her chest so it's covering as much of her as possible.

Melissa looks down at him in surprise, her hands automatically sliding from her arms to grab at the jacket's opening. "Deku?"

"I'm trying to cool down anway," he reasons. "If you're going to stay out here, I want to make sure you're warm too. Don't want you to actually get sick."

Her surprise melts into a warm smile and Izuku's heart jumps into his throat. That sick feeling registers again. "You're too kind, Deku," she whispers as she tilts her head back, presumably to look at the stars. Then she stills, staring up at something directly above them.

She stares for long enough that Izuku gets curious and tilts his head up too, starting to say, "What are you…?" He stops, however, when he sees the white berries and green leaves of a mistletoe hanging from the streetlight.

Immediately, warmth blooms full force in his face again, but he can clearly understand where that came from. His hands tighten on his jacket around Melissa's shoulders as a wheeze exits his lungs. 

Melissa laughs a little at the noise he made and tilts her head down to look at him. He mimics her a second later, feeling like he's about to combust. Before she can say anything, he nearly shouts, "We don't have to!"

She blinks in surprise, but the mirth never leaves her face. "Why, Deku, are you saying you don't want to kiss me?"

Izuku squeaks as he tries to deny it, "What? No, of course not! Who wouldn't want to kiss you?" Kill him. "Ah, I mean, that is, I don't mean that I want to kiss you!" KILL HIM. "No, no, not that, what I mean is, if you don't want to kiss me, then we won't, because I know there's that whole tradition or whatever but that's really old-school and also kind of gross if you think about the implications of two people needing to kiss just because they're standing over a plant so there's a whole weird consent issue surrounding the whole thing and basically all I'm saying is we can break the cycle right here right now and - " He takes in a gasping breath as he runs out of air, the cold having made it so his spiel was shorter than normal.

Melissa just smiles, giggling lightly at his fumbling. Then, she says, "Who said I didn't want to kiss you?"

Now, he feels breathless for another reason.

He stills, staring up at her in shock, trying to process her sentence. Melissa lets him, still smiling softly, like they have all the time in the world.

"You… what?" he says, dumbly. 

"I said," she repeats, "who said I didn't want to kiss you?"

"You…" He can't even wrap his head around this, what?? "You want to kiss me? You want to kiss me?"

Melissa laughs again. "Don't look so surprised! I would've thought it was obvious, with how I've been acting."

"Well, you thought wrong." It slips out before he can stop it, and he quickly takes his hand from where it's holding his jacket closed and covers his mouth. Her laughter increases as he apologizes.

"No, no, I suppose that's my fault," she says. "I should have known better than to assume you knew how I felt."

How she FELT?

Izuku doesn't know if he can physically handle the implications of that.

"Anyway," she continues, "I'll be straight forward then. May I kiss you, Deku?"

Another wheeze escapes his throat and his knees buckle a little. He doesn’t quite fall, but Melissa's hands do surge up and catch his arms. That sick feeling is mixing with a wonderful giddiness, jumping around in his stomach, almost feeling like beating wings - and oh. Oh, he's just stupid, isn't he.

Oh, he's in love with her, isn't he.

"Yes," he breathes, high on the feeling of love realized, blissfully ignoring his own stupidity of the day. He'd been feeling sick because he was nervous and in love and he'd been with her all day, holy shit, he can be so dumb sometimes.

Melissa breathes a sigh of relief, tension dropping from her shoulders, and he realizes she'd been scared he'd reject her. As if anyone in their right mind would reject her. 

Her hands slide up from his arms and cup his jaw, fingertips buried in his unruly hair. She tilts her head forward, slowly, unrushed, and Izuku's eyes flutter shut in preparation. He feels her nose brushes his, feels her breath against his lips, and then - she's kissing him.

He sighs a bit, in relief, a small, hurt part of him, that will never truly die, having expected this to all be a huge prank. But it's not, of course, because Melissa would never hurt him like that. 

Her lips press a bit harder against his, and her hands slide further back on his head until her arms having fully wrapped around his neck. His own hands jolt up, unsurely landing on her waist, as she leads him. She's obviously done this before, while he's completely green.

The kiss lasts another few seconds before Melissa slowly leans back. Embarrassingly, Izuku starts to follow, before catching himself and letting them part. 

They both pant lightly, breathing the same air and still wrapped up in each other. She beams at him, face flushed from more than just the cold. "That was wonderful, Deku."

"R-Really? I-I didn't know what I was doing…"

Melissa hums. "Maybe, but… because it's you, I thought it was amazing." His face turns a few shades darker. She giggles, before her voice takes on a more serious tone. "And… if you wanted, there could be more chances to… you know, improve…?"

It takes him a second.

Then another. 

And another.

"Wait, are you asking me out?"

Melissa snorts a little, before nodding.

"Like, me me? Like, Midoriya Izuku?"

"I don't see any other hero-in-training here, currently wrapped in my arms and standing under a mistletoe, do you?" she teases.

"N-No, I just…" Ah, shit, he's gonna cry at this rate. "This is just too unreal. There's no way this all just happened, that I kissed you and then you asked me out. I have to be dreaming."

Melissa tilts his head towards her (when had he looked away?) and smiles brightly at him. "It's all real. I kissed you and then I asked you out. If it's too much at once, we can wait. I can wait. You're worth it, to me, Deku. I want to be with you, wholly and truly."

Aaaaand now he's crying.

Melissa takes it in stride, leaning back so her hands can comfortably cup his face again and her thumbs can wipe his tears. He grips her wrists tightly, but not enough to hurt.

"I - I just - I never thought you'd actually - that someone like you would - " He's cut off by another sob and Melissa shushes him.

"It's okay, Deku, I understand. It's a lot right now, we can talk about it tomorrow - "

"N-No, wait," he cuts in, sniffing noisily and forcing his tears to halt. He looks her in the eye, breathing shakily, and says, "Y-Yes. I-I'd like to go out with you. Please."

Melissa lets out a breath of her own, eyes wide and shining. Oh no, is she going to -

Tears drip from her eyes as her smile widens and widens, and she throws herself at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "Oh, that's wonderful, Deku! I'm so happy!"

Izuku laughs breathlessly, feeling like he's on top of the world. He tightens his arms around her waist and lifts her up, spinning her around as their joyous laughter fills the empty street.

After a few moments of mirth, he sets her back down and they pant heavily. Their foreheads lean against one another as they breathe each other's air.

They stand in silence, enjoying each other's company as they catch their breath. Then, nervously, Izuku whispers, "You know, we're… we're still under the mistletoe. If you, um, wanted to… help me improve, like you said…?" He anxiously looks at her, feeling simultaneously too close and like he never wants to be away from her again.

Melissa huffs a laugh and buries her hand into the curls on the back of his head. "You know, Deku? I think I'll take you up on your offer."

She leans in and catches him in another scorching kiss, and before Izuku loses himself in her, he wonders how he could ever believe he didn't love her.

[fairylightsandchai]

The Internship - Part 2

A/N: Hello, again! Just popping in again to say that I know I don’t usually post fanfic here, but I really wanted to take part in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you don’t follow me for fanfiction. :) Also, I’ll be adding tags in a reblog. 

Read Part One Here!

As a side note, I’ve made a new blog since writing this dedicated to fanfic. If you wanna check it out, click here!

Pairings:  Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary:  You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no?

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and this part will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.)

You let out a curse as your hand fumbled around inside of your purse; you professor would be there any second to pick you up, and your phone was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn that you’d set it down on your nightstand to charge, but it hadn’t been there that morning, and after spending the better part of an hour looking for it, you were beginning to give up hope.

           A knock sounded at your door and you swore again, finally setting your purse down next to your packed suitcase and hurrying to answer it. On its other side stood Steve, a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He was dressed much more casually than you’d ever seen him before, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket.

           Staring between him and the bundle of daisies, you blinked once, twice before finally finding your voice again.

           “Steve! I… Are those for me?” you asked, and he let out a soft laugh.

           “Nah, they’re for the other girl who lives here,” he joked.

           “I’m sure she’s very grateful,” you managed, taking the bouquet from him and giving it a sniff. “What’s the occasion?”

           “Well,” he began, following you into your apartment as you went to locate a vase, “I know that you had your reservations about joining me, and I wanted to get you a little something for agreeing to the internship.”

           “Oh.” You finally found an old pitcher that you’d never before used and started filling it with water, watching Steve out of the corner of your eye. He seemed right at home, browsing your book collection with his hands in his pockets as he skimmed the titles. “Well thank you! They’re beautiful.”

           After setting the daisies into the water, you turned to face your professor.

           “So… Are you ready to head out?” you asked, and he quickly turned his attention back to you.

           “Sure am.”

           Before you could protest, he walked over to your suitcase and picked it up, not even batting an eye at how heavy it was. You scurried over to pick your purse up and follow him out of your apartment.

           “I might need to stop at a Best Buy on the way,” you told him as you locked the door. “I can’t seem to find my phone…”

           “You can’t go without it for a week?”

           “I mean… I can, but I would rather not have to,” you explained. “My mom might start to worry if I don’t keep in touch.”

           “Well how about you use my phone? I would hate for your family to be concerned.”

           You followed him to his car, surprised at how sleek and modern it looked; it had to be worth more than a couple years of your rent.

           “Are you sure? It won’t be too much of a bother?” you asked, moving to open the passenger door. Steve’s hand shot out faster than yours, though, opening it for you with a smile.

           “It would be no trouble at all, (Y/N),” he assured you.

           With a quiet “thank you”, you slid into your seat, flinching when Steve closed the door behind you. As you sank into the dark leather beneath you, you wondered if it was too late to turn back. You couldn’t get that meeting in his office out of your head; the way his voice had hardened, the way his face had turned stormy when you hadn’t thanked him initially, it still sent shivers down your spine. Steve had spent years as America’s ‘golden boy’, but you couldn’t shake the suspicion that there could be a darker side of him just beneath the surface.

           You jolted in your seat when you heard his door open, and you watched as he climbed into the driver’s side, his weight making the car shift as he settled in.

           After flashing a small smile your way, he pressed a button and the car started, its engine purring quietly. You were both silent as you made your way to the interstate, your apartment fading into the distance in the rear-view mirror. It was only after the car was on the highway that Steve glanced your way again.

           “You can put on the radio, if you’d like. We have a good hour of driving ahead of us, and that’s if traffic isn’t too crazy.”

           You sighed; traffic in the city was always crazy.

           You fiddled with the radio, eventually finding a station that you liked and turning it down to a low volume, just wanting some background noise.

           “Hey, I actually know this song,” Steve smiled. “Doesn’t happen too often these days; most of the music I listen to is on the records I have at home.”

           You smiled a little at that; some of the things he said really made him sound like a grandpa.

           “I like the oldies, too,” you told him, head turning to look out your window. “Do you have a favorite band?”

           Steve thought about it for a second, his thumbs tapping absentmindedly against the steering wheel.

           “Well… You’ve probably never heard of them, but I really liked The Ink Spots back in the day. Oh, and Frank Sinatra is pretty hard to beat.”

           “I happen to enjoy Sinatra myself,” you said. “I don’t know a lot of his music by name, but he has a really distinct voice.”

           “That’s true,” Steve smiled. “…You know, you have a really distinct voice, too.”

           Well, that came out of nowhere. You chuckled a little, feeling your cheeks heat up.

           “I���don’t think so,” you tried to dismiss him.

           “No, I mean it,” he insisted. “I really like your speaking voice; I imagine you’re a nice singer, too.”

           “You are… so wrong,” you informed him. “My singing voice sounds like a cat being boiled.”

           He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laugh.

           “And just how do you know what that sounds like?” he asked you, glancing away from the road to raise an eyebrow at you.

           You just shrugged, your smile fading slowly as you looked down at your lap.

           “Why do you do that?” you heard yourself saying.

           “Do what?”

           “Compliment me so much,” you clarified, not daring to look his way. “You always have something nice to say about me. Why?”

           It took Steve a few moments to answer, evidently pondering over his words.

           “Well,” he finally said, “I suppose I’m just used to saying what’s on my mind. Everything I’ve told you has been true, you know.”

           You felt something in your chest flutter, and you chewed on your lip as you cranked the radio louder. It wasn’t necessarily the words he’d spoken just now that unsettled you; no, it was the way he’d said them: softly, earnestly, in a tone that you don’t just use with a student or a friend. You tried to push that thought away, tried to write it off as ridiculous; he was Captain America. Why and how would he ever develop feelings for someone like you?

           The majority of the car ride passed in silence, and you watched the sun sink lower into the sky. He’d picked you up in the middle of the afternoon, and as the winter dragged on, the days were getting shorter and shorter. So when you finally made it into Brooklyn, the sky was awash in light pinks and oranges; the sun would be going down in about two hours.

           “So, I was thinking,” Steve finally spoke up, setting his right hand on the gear shift, “that we could stop for an early dinner before heading to our hotel room. I know a great pizza place close by.”

           His pinky was just barely resting against your thigh as he spoke, and even that tiny point of contact was enough to make you uncomfortable. You pressed your thighs together, putting some distance between your leg and his hand, and you thought that you saw his jaw clench at the motion.

           “U-um,” you finally spoke up, realizing he was still waiting for an answer, “yeah, that sounds good. I could go for some pizza.”

           With a nod of his head, he turned his turn signal on, turning down the next road. In no time, he’d parked the car in a parking garage and led you out onto a street. When you reached a brick building with a sign that said Lucali on it, he held open the door for you, waving you in before him.

           The smell of Italian food immediately washed over you, and you almost let out a moan as you deeply inhaled. A young, sweet-looking hostess walked to the two of you instantly, doing a double take when she saw the man you were with.

           Grabbing a few menus, she, for her credit, quickly got over her moment of being star-struck.

           “Good evening; table for two?”

           “That’d be great,” Steve said, giving her one of his trademark smiles. “We would like one in the back, if any are available.”

           “O-of course, Mr. Rogers,” she assured him, leading you both into a more secluded area. Jazz music was playing over the sound system, and as you sank into the booth you were led to, you noticed that every table had a small succulent on its surface.

           “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?” the nice girl asked, and you were about to say that you’d just take water when Steve interrupted you.

           “We’ll have a bottle of the house red blend,” he told her.

           “Oh, no,” you tried to say, “I don’t really want any wine-“

           The look Steve gave you stopped you dead in your tracks, and you were quickly taking back your words for a reason you couldn’t quite name.

           “U-um, that is, could I have a water with that?” you corrected yourself. Steve smirked, never taking his eyes off of you as the hostess hurried away.

           You squirmed in your chair, not daring to make eye contact with the man in front of you until he spoke your name softly.

           “Um… Yes?”

           “You know, I’d really like it if you were able to relax,” he said softly. “Sip some wine with me; try not to be so tense. Let yourself enjoy the evening.”

           Before you could reply, the hostess was back with your drinks, and you immediately chugged half of the glass of wine she’d poured for you – you would welcome anything that could take the edge off, at this point.

           “So,” Steve said, not touching his own glass, “I have a whole itinerary planned out for tomorrow. I thought we could start out by going to the building I grew up in; I was sure that they’d have tore it down by now, but apparently it’s still an apartment complex.”

           “We could even take some pictures,” you added, finishing off your glass. “They might be a nice inclusion to the chapter.”

           “That’s a great idea,” he smiled. “So, we’ll check it out and take some photos, and then we’ll go to Coney Island; Bucky and I used to go there all the time. Once, he made me ride this rollercoaster there until I got sick.” Steve laughed fondly at the memory. “But I got him back the next time and made him go on the tilt-a-whirl until he passed out.”

           You chuckled, feeling the wine start to tingle pleasantly through your veins.

           “Bucky? That was your best friend, right? The…the winter soldier?”

           Steve’s smile grew sad at the mention of that title, but he nodded his head, reaching over to your glass of water and taking a sip casually. If it weren’t for the wine, you were sure you’d have found that odd, but you didn’t even think twice about it.

           “He doesn’t like to be called that anymore,” he corrected you. “But he was known by that name once.”

           You were both silent as he poured you another glass, and you mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ before promptly sipping on it. The air between you felt awkward all of a sudden, and you regretted bringing up the tender subject.

           “So,” you spoke up, “what else is on your itinerary?”

           “Well…” Steve perked up, “I thought that we could head over to Central Park after Coney Island; it’s all the way in Manhattan, but I used to go there and draw when I was a kid.”

           “You like to draw?”

           “I sure do. It’s one of the things that I’ve been good at since before the serum.”

           “I’m sure that’s not true,” you assured him.

           “Oh, believe me, it is,” he grinned, and there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “Other than getting in way over my head. I’ve always done that, too.”

           When the waitress came by your table, Steve ordered for the both of you, but you didn’t mind; he happened to order your favorite type of pizza, and you smiled at the coincidence. The wine was starting to make your head buzz, but you welcomed it over the constant anxiety you seemed to be facing these days.

           Your pizza came out surprisingly quick, right in the middle of a story you were telling Steve about your childhood. He was watching you so intently, his chin resting on his palm and his eyes sparkling with amusement. First one, then two more glasses of wine had been drunk (by only one of the people at your table), and when the bottle went empty he slid his still-full glass over for you to finish.

           The both of you were completely silent as you ate the pizza; it seemed that you both were hungry. You ate your fill before sitting back and watching Steve ate the majority of the meal as you sipped your wine; you’d never seen anybody eat that much pizza in one setting, but then again, you’d never dined with a super soldier before.

           The sun outside had completely disappeared by the time the two of you were finished, an entire bottle of wine sloshing in your belly as you stumbled out of the restaurant.

           “Woah there,” Steve chuckled, holding his arm out for you to support yourself on. “You ok?”

           “’M great,” you waved him off. “Just drank a little more than I was expecting to. You should’a stopped me at my second glass.”

           All Steve replied with was a deep chuckle, leading you back to the car and helping you into your seat. You blushed as he buckled your seatbelt for you, feeling like a child.

           “I can do it myself,” you tried to protest, but he batted your hands away when you reached for him.

           “I know you can. But I want to help you.”

           You huffed but made no attempt to further protest, settling in against the cushy seat as he started to drive you to the hotel. Your eyelids were slowly starting to feel heavier, and you jolted when you suddenly felt a hand descend on your shoulder.

           “Hey, doll,” Steve was saying, “We’re here. Wake up.”

           You blinked sluggishly; you hadn’t meant to drift off. Letting out a soft grunt, you opened your door and stood up on stiff legs. Your teacher smiled over at you as he unloaded your suitcases, handling all of the bags as he led you out of the parking garage and into one of the fanciest hotel lobbies you’d ever seen.

           Your shoes clicked against the marble flooring as you walked with Steve to the receptionist’s desk. The man behind the counter gave your professor a wide smile, not even sparing you a glance as he greeted the soldier.

           “Welcome, Mr. Rogers,” he grinned. “We are honored to have you staying with us, sir.”

           “Thank you,” he replied. “We have a reservation under-“

           “Rogers, yes. We have your room all set up.” The man handed Steve a keycard, and you wondered if he would start vibrating with how excited he was at having such a famous guest. “Please, do let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant.”

           “I sure will; have a good evening.”

           With that, Steve gestured for you to walk into the nearby elevator before him, pressing the button for the 11th floor.

           “I was wondering if that guy was gonna kiss you,” you joked, and he threw his head back as he laughed.

           “I…am very glad he didn’t,” he sighed. “Wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.”

           Your eyes widened, but before you could say anything, the elevator dinged open and Steve was making a beeline down the hallway. You rushed to follow him to a door marked “1110”, and the first thought you had after he unlocked the door and led you inside was…there’s only one bed. The room was gorgeous, of course. Soft carpet flooring, white linens, dark wood furniture, and you passed a spacious, luxurious bathroom as you stepped further into the room.

           “Um… Steve?”

           He turned to you as he set your bags on the dresser, eyebrows raised.

           “Yeah?”

           “There, um… There’s only one bed.”

           “Oh,” he said, looking around at the bed as if only just then noticing it, “Yeah. All of the rooms with two were taken.”

           “…Um… Alright, then,” you said, starting to sober up from the wine.

           Walking over to the bed, you pulled off one of the pillows and dropped it to the floor, gripping the comforter and moving to pull it off of the mattress.

           “What are you doing?”

           You met Steve’s eyes, halting in your movements.

           “I’m making myself a bed on the floor.”

           “The floor?”

           You nodded, wondering why it was so surprising.

           “Yeah, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” you said. “You paid for the room, so you deserve the bed.”

           “…Why don’t we just share it?”

           You felt your cheeks heat up at his question, feeling like a deer in headlights as he stared at you.

           “U-um, well… It’s just that you, um… you’re my teacher,” you explained, feeling dumb as you said so. “Wouldn’t that be…inappropriate?”

           “Oh, c’mon, doll,” Steve sighed, setting his hands on his hips. “We’re both adults. You don’t need to be so immature about this.”

           Your eyes were round, and your mouth hung open, not knowing what to say to that. Your chest tightened at the feeling of disappointment, for some reason feeling sick at the thought of Steve thinking of you as ‘immature’.

           “I…  I’m sorry,” you stuttered, voice small. “I’m just…going to put my pajamas on.”

           You opened your suitcase hurriedly and snatched the first tank top and pajama pants you saw before rushing into the bathroom, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You took your time dressing, not wanting to venture back out into the bedroom to face him again; why did he bother you so much? Why did you care about what he thought?

           Letting out a deep sigh, you looked at yourself in the mirror, heart sinking when you saw your shirt. Or, rather, what was showing straight through your shirt. Your nipples were clearly visible through the thin material of your white tank top, and for a second you pondered putting on your bra again. But it was stark black, sure to show through even more blatantly than your nipples.

           Staring up at the ceiling, you briefly wondered if there was some higher power out there who just liked watching you squirm, scattering awkward, embarrassing moments throughout your life like a child throwing confetti.

           Whatever, you decided, gathering up your dirty clothes and holding them against your chest. Steve thought you were immature, anyways. He probably wouldn’t spare your nipples a second glance, right?

           …Right?

           Summoning your courage, you opened the door and walked out, not once glancing over at your teacher as you headed to your suitcase. Not even when you heard him sigh and sit up straighter on the bed.

           “Doll, I didn’t mean to be mean earlier,” he was saying as you shoved the bundle in your hands into the bag. “You’re very mature for your age, and I-“

           You turned around, mouth open to speak, but you stopped when Steve’s words were cut off by a deep inhale. You glanced up shyly, just in time to see his eyes fly up from your chest to your face, his eyes a bit wide as he tried to keep his gaze fixed on yours.

           For the first time since walking back into the bedroom, you realized that he was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, his muscles on full display as he lounged against the headboard. You hoped he didn’t see how your thighs clenched together at the sight, but his eyes caught every movement you made as you stood before him.

           “I…” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for calling you immature earlier.”

           You nodded, tearing your eyes away from his pectorals as you padded over to your side of the bed. Not daring to make any eye contact, you lifted the sheets, snuggling down into them and turning onto your side. You were faced away from him as you spoke next.

           “It’s ok,” you said. “I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

           “Alright, doll,” Steve murmured. “Goodnight.”

           A few moments later, you felt his weight leave the bed as he got up to turn off all the lights. Once the room was completely dark, you felt the bed dip again, and you curled up into a ball to try and take up as little space as possible.

           For a long while, you could only hear your own breathing, and one by one your muscles were beginning to relax. Just as you were on the edge of sleep, though, you heard sheets sliding against skin, and then a pair of impossibly strong arms were wrapping themselves around you.

           Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second you froze. Your heart was pounding, and you felt Steve’s hot breath against the back of your neck. Wondering if he was just latching onto you in his sleep, you tried scooting away, wriggling in his iron-like grip. But despite your best efforts, he wouldn’t budge.

           “Steve,” you whispered, “can you-“

           “Stop,” he murmured, his nose nuzzling into the side of your neck. “Just be still.”

           Your eyes widened, and you felt a rising tide of panic swell in your chest. Once more, you tried to distance yourself from him, reaching back behind you to try and push against his chest, but he only tightened his grip on you, squeezing you until it was beginning to grow harder to breathe.

           “Stay. Still,” he growled, giving you one hard shake.

           You whimpered at his tone, too shocked to say anything else. Limply, you let your hands fall back to your side, feeling the fight leave your body like water going down a drain.

           “Good girl.”

           Letting out shaky breaths, you forced your eyes to close and willed your breathing to slow down. Despite your discomfort, your exhaustion was getting the best of you, and your eyelids were once more growing heavy. Sleep was beginning to overtake you, and in the last moments before it completely won you over, you realized how warm Steve was, how nice it felt to be in someone’s arms. In any other situation, you could see yourself enjoying this.

           But tonight was different. Tonight, you were trapped, and as nice as your body felt, your mind was at war with itself as you finally succumbed to sleep.

­­­­­­­­__________

           You woke up impossibly warm. There was a comforting weight on top of you, and the pillow beneath your head was so soft, providing just the right amount of support. It was so unlike your own bed back home, filled with lumps and-

           Your breath caught in your throat as the events of the night before came flooding back to you. Your eyes flew open, falling to the blonde head currently resting against your chest – Steve. He seemed to be asleep, his arm wrapped around your stomach and his lips slightly parted. From this angle you could see how long his eyelashes were, and for a brief moment you felt a flutter of jealousy.

           But that feeling soon left when he took in a deep breath through his nose, his spine stretching and his arm flexing against you. You felt his thumb lazily trace circles against your side as he let out a yawn.

           “Good morning,” he sighed, eyes still closed.

           You gulped, feeling that familiar spike of fear inside you.

           “Good m-morning,” you whispered back. You made to swing your legs over the side of the bed, but his arm only tightened in its grip.

           Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up at you.

           “Where are you going,” he asked, voice suddenly devoid of all sleepiness.

           “Just to the bathroom,” you murmured, and thankfully, he let you go, rolling onto his back to allow you to stand up.

           You felt his eyes on you the entire time it took for you to cross the room, and you let out a sigh of relief once there was a door separating you. A door which, you knew, he could easily put his fist through if he wanted; you’d always been aware of his strength, but it hadn’t seemed real to you until you’d felt his arms caging you in against him.

           As you went about your business, you belatedly came to the realization that there was no explaining his actions anymore. You could no longer shake away the feelings of unease Steve arose within you; you could no longer call yourself ridiculous for not feeling safe with Captain America, of all people. As you washed your face and considered your countenance in the mirror, you felt your world came to a screeching halt as you accepted the fact that had been right in front of you the entire time.

           Steve wanted you.

           After gathering up your courage, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Steve already up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He gave you a soft smile when your eyes met, but now you could see the steel behind it.

           “I figured we could just eat breakfast here,” he told you, using such a nonchalant tone that for a second you forgot entirely about last night. “They have a buffet downstairs. After that we can head to my old stompin’ grounds and take some pictures.”

           “Th-that sounds good,” you assured him, cautiously walking over to your suitcase. “Is it ok if I take a shower first?”

           “Of course it is. You want me to get out of your hair, leave you with the room to yourself? You can just come downstairs and meet me in the dining hall when you’re all set.”

           “Oh.” You blinked in surprise. “Um, yeah, that would be great.”

           Steve gave you another warm little smile, setting his hand on your shoulder as he walked past you.

           “I’ll be waiting for you.”

           You watched him leave, waiting to hear the door click completely shut before grabbing everything you needed from your suitcase and heading back into the bathroom. You took your time in the shower, wondering what exactly you should do about all of this. You couldn’t spend an entire week with Steve, not if he continued acting so…weird around you.

           As you applied your makeup and dried your hair, you reasoned that, yes, Steve definitely had…some kind of feelings for you. Maybe it was a crush; maybe it was something more. Or maybe he just wanted to get in your pants. Either way, you had to tell him that his feelings weren’t returned, that you wanted to end the trip early. He could find another intern to finish out the week.

           For now, you decided, you would do what he wanted for today; you would go with him to his old house and take notes; you would go to Coney Island with him. But as soon as he mentioned going back to the hotel, you would lay it all out for him and get an Uber back to your apartment.

           Feeling determined, you grabbed your purse and headed down to the ground floor, almost getting lost in the vast hotel several times before you were able to locate the dining hall. Upon entering the large room, you saw Steve sitting at a table, tapping away at his phone with an already-empty plate. When he looked up at saw you, though, he hurriedly shoved the phone into his pocket and gave you a smile.

           “You look great,” he said as you passed him on the way to the buffet.

           All you could manage was a weak smile for him as you went about assembling a plate for yourself, even though you really didn’t have an appetite. You settled on some fruit salad and a muffin, grabbing a cup of orange juice as you went back to the table.

           “That’s all you’re gonna eat?” Steve asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. You put on a false smile and nodded as you picked at your food.

           “I’m not really hungry this morning.”

           He didn’t offer any protest as you ate, and as soon as you were done he ushered you out into the parking garage. The car ride to his old home was mostly silent, leaving you to watch the streets of Brooklyn go by.

           “This town has really changed,” Steve eventually sighed. “It’s always weird coming back here.”

           You were quiet for a few moments, thinking about what to say. He’d sounded strangely…sad.

           “You don’t think it’s changed for the best?” you finally spoke.

           “Well… I dunno. Yes and no, I think. Because modern technology is great; there’s no disputing the accomplishments we’ve made with it. But this city used to be…smaller. And not just in size; it used to be that each street had its own flavor, its own feel to it. Now, everything is so commercialized that it doesn’t even seem real anymore.”

           “…I’m sorry, Steve,” you muttered, feeling genuine sympathy for him despite how he’d made you feel. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”

           Steve nodded, parallel parking the car onto the side of the road.

           “I wouldn’t want you to, doll. The things I’ve seen sure can change a person.”

           With that, he hopped out of the car, jogging around to open your door for you. As you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you saw a three-story brick building right in front of you. The first floor was dedicated to a Chinese restaurant and, beside it, a used bookstore, but it appeared that the top two floors were used for housing.

           “That window,” Steve said, leaning closer to point it out to you, “used to be in my bedroom. And the downstairs was a clothing store back then. My mom was a tailor there when I was little, before she became a nurse.”

           He led you around the building into an alleyway, a melancholy smile on his face. The alley was not unlike any other you’d seen; trash was strewn about and trashcans were lined up against the far wall. You heard music drifting out of an open window somewhere above you, though, and some of the windows had flower boxes with overflowing ivy inside of them. Steve paused at the foot of an old stairway made of iron, resting one of his feet on the bottom step and rubbing his hand up and down its rail.

           “I used to climb these stairs every day,” he said wistfully. “And me and Bucky would play in the alleyway; I could always beat him at jacks.”

           You gave him a small smile, walking closer to him.

           “Can I borrow your phone?” you asked. “For the pictures.”

           “Oh, right.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a StarkPhone, handing it to you. He made to walk away from the steps, but you held one of your hands out.

           “No, stay there,” you instructed. “Look up at your old apartment, and uh…act natural.”

           He chuckled, moving back to his position next to the stairwell.

           “Whatever you say, Miss Photographer.”

           You snapped a few photos from different angles, liking especially one where he had his back to the camera, his profile visible as he looked up at his old front door. You quickly set a black-and-white filter over it before handing him back the device.

           “I think those all look good,” you said. “Tell me what you think.”

           Steve flipped through the photos, lingering on the one you’d made black and white.

           “These are great,” he praised you. “But they’d look much better with you in them with me.”

           He gave you a wink as he tucked the phone back into his pocket, gesturing for you to follow him back to the car before you had the chance to say anything more.

           “C’mon, it’s been decades since I’ve gone to Coney Island. I wanna see how different it is these days.”

           The rest of the day was strangely…pleasant, in spite of being with a man you knew to have some kind of strange fascination with you. Going to Coney Island with Steve kind of made you feel like a kid again. He wouldn’t go on any of the rides, but he did play some of the carnival games with you. It was his idea.

           “C’mon, we can’t come here and not have at least a little bit of fun,” he’d cajoled. You’d given in, following him to the ring toss stall.

           After that, you began to loosen up a little bit. The games were fun, despite how rigged they clearly were. Steve, though, was unsurprisingly amazing at them; he’d even broken the Strong Man game. When he’d brought the hammer down onto the button, not only did the bell ring, but it cracked in half. He’d grinned and picked a huge teddy bear off of the rack, handing it to you proudly, and you hadn’t been able to do anything but laugh and accept it with a smile.

           After stopping to get a hot dog (or three hot dogs for Steve), you’d piled back into his car, barely able to fit the bear into the backseat. On the ride to Central Park, you skimmed through Steve’s phone, picking out your favorite of the photos you’d taken at the amusement park. You laughed and showed him the one you’d taken just after he broke the game; in the picture his eyes were wide as he looked back at you sheepishly.

           When you got to the park and managed to find a parking space close by, you sensed a distinct shift in Steve’s mood. As you got out and let him guide you to the spot in the park he used to visit as a child, you felt his eyes on you constantly, and your small talk puttered out into dead silence. You felt the back of your neck prickle with discomfort as you noticed the path you were walking on becoming less and less crowded, leaving you alone with the super soldier.

           You had the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

           Eventually, the two of you came to a shady part of the path where the tree branches hung low, shielding the asphalt underfoot from sunlight. There was a small, old-looking bridge in front of you, and Steve paused when the two of you were standing overtop of it.

           “Why are we stopping?” you asked, turning to him. “Is this the place?”

           Steve didn’t answer, looking down at his hands where they rested against the bridge. You felt that familiar sense of anxiety rising up inside of you, and you fidgeted as you watched him carefully.

           “You know, I’ve thought about this moment for a while, now,” he finally said, “But hell, I’m still nervous.” He gave you a sheepish smile, but it did nothing to make you feel better. “I guess you just have that effect on me.”

           You gulped, clenching your fists at your sides.

           “Steve, what…what are you talking about?”

           “I think you know, doll.” He stepped closer to you, his chest almost touching yours. “I think you’ve known for a while.

           “You must know that I’m crazy about you by now.”

           You looked down, not able to meet his eyes, but his hand went under your chin and guided your face back up towards him.

           “Hey, look at me, baby. I-“

           “No, please don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Steve, we can’t-“

           “I love you.”

           Your heart sank upon hearing those words, and despite how he’d treated you up to this point, it broke your heart to see how hopeful his expression was.

           “Steve, I…” You paused, and he eagerly nodded, hoping to hear something you knew you couldn’t say. “We can’t do this. You’re my teacher, and I’m your student. We could both get in huge trouble.”

           You watched the hopeful glimmer in his eyes fade away, replaced with disappointment as his face fell.

           “But…what if you weren’t my student?” he suddenly asked.

           You scrunched up your eyebrows questioningly.

           “What do you mean?”

           “(Y/N), you don’t have to go to school anymore,” he told you in a pleading voice. “I…I could take care of you. You could do your writing from home, and I could provide for us and our family. I know that you have your own plans, but now you don’t have to-“

           “Our family? Steve, I’m so… I’m confused. You expect me to just quit everything and, what? Be your housewife?”

           Steve frowned at your tone, setting a hand on your shoulder. You tried to move it away from him, but his grip was like iron.

           “Doll, I know that this is sudden, but I also know that I can make you happy. And you can’t deny that you have the same feelings that I do. I can hear your heart pounding as we speak-“

           “That’s because I’m afraid, Steve! I hardly even know you, and the only feelings you’ve given me so far have been fear and discomfort. You can’t just fucking decide that-“

           His grip on you tightened, causing you to let out a yelp of pain.

           “Watch your language, baby,” he warned you, voice hard as steel. “I won’t have you speaking to me that way. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

           “What you’ve done for me?! You haven’t-“

           “I changed my whole life for you,” he spat, his face getting closer and closer to yours. “I moved across town into a shitty matchbox apartment just to be closer to you. I got you into my class so we could properly meet one another. I’ve given you my heart, (Y/N), and I’m ready to give you the life you’ve always wanted!”            Your head spun with his revelation of just how crazy he was. You wanted to scream in his face; you wanted to tell him just how insane he was. But you knew that wasn’t the smart thing to do in this situation, and if you wanted to make it out of this, you would have to be smart. He was stronger than you, and you were alone with no one else in sight; you couldn’t fight your way out of this.

           “S-Steve,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look into his eyes. “Steve, please. I’m sorry for being so…rude. Just… Can we talk about this? Maybe at the hotel? All of this is so sudden, just like you said. I need to think it through.” You silently willed him to believe what you were saying; if you could just make it back to the street you could try and find help.

           He seemed to turn over your words, hesitating before finally loosening his grip on you.

           “…Okay, doll,” he nodded, taking a step back. “We can talk about this. But you’d better watch the tone you take with me. Now let’s-“

           He was cut off by the sound of a ringtone emanating from his back pocket – more specifically, your ringtone. You both froze for a long moment before Steve slowly reached for it, and your blood ran cold when you saw its familiar phone case. It wasn’t the StarkPhone you’d been borrowing from your teacher all day; no, that was your phone. The one that you hadn’t been able to find yesterday.

           And Steve had it.

           “…I’m sorry about that,” he sighed, crushing the device in his palm as if it were made of paper mache. “I know that this looks bad… I was gonna give it back to you after our week together.”

           All of your reason went out the window, and on shaky legs you turned and did the only thing your brain could think about in that moment.

           You ran.

           You could hear Steve’s footfalls behind you, moving impossibly fast, and you let out a scream, making your voice as loud as possible and willing your legs to move faster. Within seconds though, his vice-like arms were around you, one of his massive palms pressing against your mouth and muffling your cries.

           “Cut it out right now,” he demanded. “You know you can’t win this fight.”

           You didn’t faulter in your frenzied movements, though, still kicking your legs blindly. It was only until you felt his hand move from your mouth to your throat that you went still, your vision slowly going black at the corners as it became harder to breathe.

           You were still trying to scream, though, begging anyone who could possibly hear you for help even as your voice became thin and strained. All too soon, though, you felt something hard hit you in the back of the head, and you felt yourself sinking into unconsciousness.

           “Shh, it’s ok,” you thought you heard Steve say. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

           And then everything went black.

________

           The first thing you became aware of as you woke up was how sore you felt. Your head was pounding, your mouth was dry, and your arms were cramping. With a low moan, you tried to move them, but something around your wrists was stopping you.

           “Shhh, doll, you’re ok. I’m so glad you’re waking up.”

           Slowly, your eyes opened and you found yourself face to face with Steve. Sucking in a deep breath, you turned and saw your wrists tied to a bedframe with a thin but strong length of rope. Judging by the rope burn on your skin and the soreness in your muscles, you’d been tied up in that position for a while.

           “I was so afraid I’d hit you too hard,” Steve was going on, perched right next to your hip on the mattress. “I’m sorry that I had to do that, but to be fair, you weren’t leaving me much of a choice.”

           Your eyes widened as you took in the room you were trapped in. The walls and floor were made out of concrete, and there were no windows in sight. There were, however, bookshelves lining an entire wall to your left, and there was a brown leather couch and two matching armchairs placed in front of them. A staircase sat in the corner to your right, and there were two visible doors in the room – one right in front of you and one to the right.

           “Doll? You okay there? Your heart is beating faster than a steam engine.”

           You turned back to face Steve so quickly that your head spun with the movement.

           “S-Steve?” Your voice was brittle, and you just then realized how much your throat hurt.

           “Oh, here, hon. Sip some water; it should help your throat feel better.” Steve stood up and retrieved a glass of water from the nightstand before once more taking his place beside you and holding it to your lips. You tried to lift your head up off the pillow as much as possible, but some of it still dribbled down your chin.

           After you’d drank your fill, Steve put the glass back on the table and leaned over you, letting one of his hands rest on your hip while the other one wiped away the water you’d spilled.

           “There you go. That feel any better?”

           You warily nodded, completely unsettled by the pleasant little smile he was wearing on his face.

           “Steve,” you tried once again. “Where am I?”

           “Don’t worry about that,” he said, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb while his other hand drew lazy circles against your hip. “You’re safe.”

           You struggled once more against your ties, but all you accomplished was aggravating your already raw skin. Steve sighed and pulled away, standing up and putting his hands on his hips.

           “Doll, I’ve already warned you about your attitude,” he chided. “If you calm down, I’ll untie you, but first you’ve gotta settle down and behave. Understood?”

           You felt tears spring to your eyes as you realized just how helpless you were in this situation, but you blinked them away as you nodded. You stopped struggling and lay still.

           “I-I understand.”

           “Good girl. Now, I’ll untie you, but if you try to run or do anything stupid, I won’t hesitate to tie you up again and leave you like that for the next week. Got it?” When you nodded your head, Steve tsked, shaking his head. “You need to do better than that. Say, ‘I promise not to run, Steve.’”

           “I-I promise not to run, Steve,” you recited, feeling a tear slide down your cheek.

           His face softened at that, and he leaned over you to wipe it away.

           “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe here, remember? The last thing I wanna do is hurt you.”

           Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pocketknife, and you winced as he gripped the rope. With quick, deft movements, he severed both chords, and as soon as you were free you scrambled as far away from him on the bed as possible, rubbing the sore skin of your wrists while drawing your knees up to your chin. Steve sighed at your response, but all he did was sit down on the bed again.

           “Now, you said you wanted to talk earlier, right? So let’s talk. But this time, watch your tone; you’re already due for a punishment for how you spoke to me earlier.”

           You felt yourself blanch at his tone, hugging your knees tighter as you watched him; you didn’t want to talk. You didn’t even know what to say, other than to voice the one question echoing in your mind.

           “…Why?” you finally asked. “Why are you doing this?”

           “Because I love you, doll,” was his immediate response. “I know that you’re confused. I know that you’re scared, and I can understand that. Love is…scary; it’s terrifying. But I know that if you just give me a chance, you’ll see how happy we can be together.”

           You shook your head, trying to trample down the anger you felt welling up inside you; yelling at him would get you nowhere.

           “Steve…this isn’t the way to go about this,” you carefully said. “I don’t want a relationship right now. And it’s not about you; I don’t want a relationship with anybody until I’m done with college. Please, just…let me go, and I promise I won’t tell anyone, ok? We can even go on a proper date after I graduate if you still want to. Just please, please, let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

           Steve’s lips stretched into a humorless smile, and he let out a cold chuckle.

           “I don’t want this, huh? What do you know about what I want? As a matter of fact, what has anyone ever known about what I want? Or what’s more, when have they cared?

           “I never wanted to be this,” he growled, gesturing down at his body. “I didn’t want to be some super soldier; I just wanted to serve my country. I never wanted to wake up in a century I didn’t belong in. I didn’t want to fight against an alien army; I didn’t want to watch half of my friends turn to dust; I didn’t want to see the first woman I ever loved slowly die of an old age I never got to reach.

           “But I did it. I did all of that, and now? I’m tired of doing shit I don’t wanna do just because it’s what’s right. Just this once, I want something for myself. Someone for myself. I want to be happy. And baby, right now, you’re what I need to be happy.

           “I’ve given everything away, and now I’m going to collect on what I’ve rightfully fucking earned.”

           The entire time he was talking, his gaze had gone darker and darker as his voice rose, and now he stood up, marching to the side of the bed you were resting on and pulling you up with both hands wrapped around your biceps. You felt yourself being lifted completely into the air, but before you could push him away, he was kissing you.

           His lips were unforgiving as they moved against yours, his tongue shoving itself inside of your mouth ungracefully. You whimpered, pressing your hands against his chest and wriggling your body in his grip. He made no signs of budging, though, only tightening his grip on you.

           Desperate to separate yourself from him, you bit down on his tongue, feeling yourself being suddenly dropped to the hard floor as Steve let out a howl. You thought you saw blood trickle down from his lips as you staggered to your feet, but you tore your eyes away from him and quickly started rushing to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, you climbed them until you reached the steel door at their top.

           With shaky hands, you turned its handle, but it didn’t move so much as an inch. Feeling your heart plummet to your toes, you uselessly flung yourself against it, vaguely aware of your own screaming.

           Letting out a sob, you pressed your back against the cold steel, looking down to see Steve wiping a small trail of blood off of his chin. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and in spite of his obvious pain, there was a smirk on his lips. There was no mistaking the anger in his eyes, though.

           “Get your ass,” he growled, drawing himself to his full height, “down those fucking stairs.”

           Your entire body was trembling as you realized how helpless you were.

           “NOW,” Steve suddenly shouted, and you jolted at the sound.

           Moving as if in a daze, you descended the stairs, a cold numbness spreading throughout your body as you realized you were well and truly trapped. When you stood in front of Steve once again, you felt his hand grip your chin harshly, yanking your face closer to his.

           “That,” he growled, “was a stupid thing to do.”

           He suddenly spun you around and pushed you, and you let out a shriek as you landed on the mattress. He didn’t give your body a chance to stop bouncing before he was on you, tearing at your shirt until you felt the material rip.

           “I tried to do this the right way,” he was muttering, almost to himself. “I waited for months. I watched you; I was nice to you. I had an entire evening planned for you after the park if you’d have just said yes.”

           You cried out as he yanked your pants down your legs, and you blindly kicked at him as you sobbed. With harsh, jerky movements, he pushed them apart and settled his hips over yours, settling his weight over you until you were pinned.

           “I was gonna be gentle with you,” he continued on, running his hands over your body, squeezing your breasts so hard through your bra that you yelped. “I was going to make your first time so special, baby. But then you had to go and fuck it all up.”

           Your body froze for a second, a wave of terror crashing over you at his implications. Steve used your pause as an opportunity to push his jeans down, taking his underwear with them. You tried your best not to look down at his body as he took his shirt off, but you’d still caught a glance at what lay in store for you.

           His cock was enormous, bigger than any you’d seen in any porn, and you squeezed your legs together at the thought of it inside your body. It wouldn’t fit; there was no way.

           “Please, Steve,” you were babbling, once more trying to push him away. “Please, it’s gonna hurt so bad; please, I don’t want this to be my first time. Steve, I-“

           His hand descended down over your mouth, gritting his teeth as his other hand tore off your bra.

           “I hope it does hurt, doll,” he growled. “I hope you can’t walk straight for a week. I hope that every time you even think of running away from me again, every time you so much as move your legs, you feel me fucking into your tight, virgin pussy and remember who you belong to.”

           Suddenly you were being flipped over onto your stomach, and you gripped the sheets as you felt your panties being torn off. This was it, you thought, and you braced yourself as best you could.

           But when your legs weren’t pulled apart, when you didn’t feel his hands against you for a second, your eyes opened once more. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, only to see Steve’s hand  as it slapped your ass so hard you swore you saw stars.

           You buried your face in the blankets beneath you as he spanked you over and over again, sobbing as the pain radiated throughout your entire body. Every time you tried to crawl away from him, his hands would wrap around your hips and pull you right back to where he wanted your body.

           “Nuh-uh, baby,” he growled. “You need to take your God. Damn. Punishment.”

           Each word was punctuated with a spank, and you did nothing to stop your screams as you lost count somewhere around 15. You’d had no idea how strong he was before this; you’d thought you’d sensed it when he held you in his arms last night; you’d thought you’d seen it in his bulging muscles. But it was only now, as he was using his strength to hurt you, that you fully understood it.

           By the time he stopped, you were laying limp on your stomach, crying into the sheets and trying to think of something, anything other than the pain. But when you felt yourself being maneuvered up onto your knees, you felt your panic only increase.

           He gave you no warning before he shoved his cock inside of you, but even if he had said anything, you doubt you would have heard it over your own scream. Your walls were roughly stretched as he entered you, inch by aching inch. Your chest shook with your sobs as they mingled with his moan of pleasure. A part of you wondered how he could be feeling so good while you were in such pain, but all thought left you when he started moving his hips.

           You’d always known that your first time would be at least a little painful, but nothing could have prepared you for this. The pain seemed to radiate throughout your entire body, and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to struggle as his thrusts grew more regular in their rhythm.

           “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hands squeezing your hips. “I knew you would feel good, knew this pussy would be so good to me-“

           He cut himself off with another moan, shifting his hips so he could fuck deeper into you. You had your eyes squeezed shut the entire time, your nails biting into the skin of your palms as you willed the pain to go away. You tried to relax against him; you even tried to enjoy it, just to ease the pain. You were desperate for it to go away, and your cries only increased when Steve started to move faster.

           Whether it was out of pity or just his own sick amusement, he slowed in his rhythm just a bit, snapping his hips almost lazily as one of his hands trailed down your back.

           “Oh, I’m sorry baby,” he breathed, dragging his cock up and down your walls, hitting a spot inside of you that made your eyes fly wide open. “I forgot that you like it nice and slow at first, right?”

           You whined at his words; the pain was still present, but with him hitting against that spot that made colors dance behind your vision, pleasure was starting to build alongside it. You were somewhat aware that you were babbling, but you couldn’t even make out your own words as he hit that spot repeatedly.

           “I used to watch you, you know,” he grunted, reaching around your body to run his finger over your clit. You jolted at the sensation, inadvertently clenching around him. “I would watch you use that little pink toy you kept in your bedside table. I – fuck - memorized how you made yourself cum, knowing I could make you feel so much better than that tiny piece of plastic ever could.”

           As he started thrusting faster once more, his fingers sped up with him, rubbing up and down against your clit until your sobs slowly started transforming into moans.

           “See, doll? I fucking knew you would love this,” he said. “Knew you would see how you were made to be mine. I’ll fucking make you see.”

           Your eyes rolled as you felt yourself moving closer and closer to the edge, and from the shouts and half-grunted words of praise spilling from Steve’s lips, he was getting close, too. His hips were moving at a brutal pace, but you were starting to crave it even through the dull haze of pain. He was filling you up so well, hitting every corner and ridge inside of your pussy so perfectly, so completely; you did nothing to stop your moans from falling out of your lips, all of your fear and agony fading away until there was nothing but Steve and the pleasure he was bringing you.

           “Steve-!” you cried out, your hips moving against his of their own accord. “P-please-“ You weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or begging him not to, but as you reached the edge of your climax, you found that you didn’t care.

           “I know, baby,” he growled, “I know. I-I… Fuck!”

           Suddenly, his fingers were gone from your clit, and you let out a whine as your orgasm eluded you, slipping away right through your fingers. You felt something warm flood your pussy, though, and you looked over your shoulder to see Steve’s mouth open in a silent scream, pure bliss written across his features as he came inside of your abused pussy.

           Your eyes were wide open, silently pleading with him as you squirmed beneath his body, but when he opened his eyes and saw your sad, needy face, all he did was grin.

           “I knew you would be perfect, baby,” he panted, slowly pulling his cock out of you with a wince. You ignored the sensation of his cum leaking out of your body, trying to catch your breath between the sobs that were starting to return.

           “W-why…” you started to ask, but he just leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

           “Be a good girl for me next time, and I’ll let you cum.”

           You melted against the mattress and watched him dress with unseeing eyes, the pleasant feelings in your cunt starting to fade while slowly being replaced by a dull, throbbing ache that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

           “Now, I’m going to go out and get a few things from the store,” Steve spoke, his voice steady and neutral despite what he’d just done to you. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I want you to think about what you’ve done and have a nice apology waiting for me when I come home, okay?”

           When you didn’t respond, he turned to you and raised one threatening eyebrow, not looking away until you’d given him a shaky nod.

           “Good girl. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

           After pulling his shoes on, he started climbing the stairs, pausing at the top to look back down at you with a deceptively warm, soft smile.

           “I love you, doll.”

           And with that, he left, leaving you with his cum cooling on your thighs.

[purpleandgreen13]

Stardew Valley Inktober 2021

Inspired by @buttonso 's SDV Inktober list, I'm writing a one shot every day for October. I have done 4 already (the fifth will be later today) but thought I would post them here too.

October 1st Junimo

Inspired by the Star Trek original series 'The Trouble with Tribbles'

Dammit Lewis, I’m a doctor not a vet.” Grumbled Doctor Harvey at his clinic where he, Marnie and Mayor Lewis are stood looking the five tiny figures laying in a large cardboard box on the examination table. They are covered in scratches and making distressed cooing noises.

“Please Dr Harvey?” Pleads Marnie, her eyes filling with tears, “I found them in the barn, the cows didn’t mean to rough them up, they were just curious.”

“What are you doing with these creatures anyway Marnie? Junimo’s import to Ferngill is strictly controlled.” Doctor Harvey peers over his glasses.

Marnie looks shifty all of a sudden and Mayor Lewis shuffles uncomfortably, “Lewis got me a special license!” Marnie protests a little too loudly, “We’re breeding them as pets. Look how cute they are! People are going to love them!”

“You are aware of their other reputation?” Harvey asks, “They’re prodigious breeders. They can have up to seven litters a week and they’re banned in some places. In the wild they have plenty of predators but in domestic situations you can easily get overrun."

“Please Doc. We can make it worth your while.” Lewis wheedles.

“Lewis. I don’t want your money, except for the medical bills. I don’t like seeing any creature in pain. Leave them with me, I’ll make sure they’re well looked after and I’ll patch up their wounds, give them a course of antibiotics and they should be right as rain in about four days.”

“Thank you so very, very much, Doctor Harvey.” Marnie gushes with relief as she clutches Harvey’s hand. Harvey frowns. This is very much against his better judgement, but the animals need care and he WAS the closest thing this town had to a vet, he supposed.

Once Marnie and Lewis left, Harvey lifted the blanket covering the box.

“Oh Yoba.” He muttered quickly lowering the blanket again. Already the junimos, which he had to grudgingly admit were cute, were In flagrante delicto, busy at work in the cardboard box creating the next generation of apple-like creatures.

Harvey mused that the small animals were getting more action than most people in the valley, including him.

He fetched his medical equipment and carefully lifted each Junimo out of the box, whenever one was free from its activities. Each one squeaked in protest as Harvey checked it over, applied antiseptics to cuts and grazes, then administered antibiotic in a small pipette to each of the five Junimos. They’d need a few days care, but they were mostly badly shaken up. They would all be fine, he was confident.

He supposed he should separate them into males and females, but honestly, Harvey had absolutely no way of telling them apart, so he left the blanket on the box after giving them some guinea pig food provided by Abigail and a bowl of water, and retired for the night.

Maru was first in the clinic the next morning and when Harvey entered the reception area, still a little bleary-eyed from sleep, she looked furious.

“What- what’s up Maru?” Harvey asked nervously.

“Why are you keeping so many animals in such a tiny space Doc? It’s downright cruel!”

“What are you talking about?”

There are almost 50 Junimos squished into a cardboard box in the hospital section! I can’t believe you left them like that? You do know it’s illegal to keep them without a license?” “Fif-FIFTY? Harvey suddenly felt a bit faint. “There were only 5 yesterday!”

Well, there’s about 50 of them now. We’ll need to find them better housing.”

After searching through the clinic for boxes big enough to house 50 Junimos, Maru makes a decision, that Harvey mutely agrees with.

They let the Junimos loose in the hospital wing of the clinic, leaving them food and water. At the end of the day locking the door behind him, Harvey couldn’t help but feel he’d made a terrible mistake.

‘Junimos reach sexual maturity within 24 hours of birth’, he read in one of his encyclopaedias, ‘as beings who derive their bright coat colouring from magic in the air around them, they live relatively short lives and breed as much as they can to ensure survival of the species. The magic that sustains them, makes them attractive to female junimos also kills them. Their twin purposes in life are to procreate and eat.’

In the morning there were more than 500 Junimos on the hospital wing. Maru could barely open the door and then could not close it. There were junimos everywhere, in the pharmacy cupboards, under every chair in the waiting room. Maru found two in the drawer of the till.

Harvey was going spare. His beautiful clean, sterile clinic had turned into a zoo. He coped as well as he could, but that evening, he called Lewis in a panic. His first attempt to pick up his phone he picked up a Junimo instead, he swept 7 of them off his chair in his office. Several of them piled on his warm lap once he sat down. There were several of them sleeping on the examination table. The noise of Junimo mating was cacophonous.

“Hello!” He bellowed into the phone when Mayor Lewis picked up. “LEWIS! It’s Harvey here! You’re going to have to do something about these Junimos! There’s hundreds of them!” “Sorry Doc! I can’t hear you! Are you having a party? I will come and pick up those Junimos from you on Friday! You said 4 days for the antibiotics to work didn’t you? I’ll see you then!” and with that the line goes dead.

Harvey has had enough. He wades through the Junimos lining the stairs to his apartment, grabs his jacket from the hook behind the door, empties the pockets of Junimos that have settled there, and makes his way gingerly out of the clinic and to the saloon. He stays far later than he should and he dreams in junimos the entire night.

Wednesday is hell. Exponential Junimo growth means that every surface is covered with squeaking, breeding and pooping animals with no regard for Harvey’s cleaning routines. He opens his kitchen cupboard for his coffee mug and is rewarded by e seemingly never-ending shower of small apple like creatures bouncing off his head and scurrying away. He tries to count them but here are far too many. That night he goes hungry because there is not a crumb of food in the house. When he climbs into his bed, he is surrounded by the creatures, cocooned in a kind of living Junimo blanket. The sleeping creatures start snoring. By itself a junimo snoring is a sweet sound, like sighing, but by the thousand, the noise is deafening.

When Maru arrives on Thursday morning, Doctor Harvey is a broken man. She pushes the door of the clinic open with some difficulty, the sheer weight of the creatures holding back the door.

Harvey is seated behind the counter, asleep, head in arms, dishevelled and unshaven. Junimos on his lap, his shoulders, in every one of his pockets. The squeaking and chirruping is so loud that Maru has to cover her ears as she approaches the sleeping man covered in the apple creatures.

“Doc!” She shouts above the row. “Doc!”

Harvey jolts awake. The junimos on his lap fall off, but are replaced with many more, jostling for a place on the doctor’s warm knees.

“I’ve brought someone who might help!”

Through the mounds of apple shaped bodies Harvey can just about make out a large cowboy hat and a purple beard. He scoffed to himself, the crazy guy from the tower? What was he going do here? Set traps? Give them all contraceptives. (Harvey had already considered it, but he calculated that the cost would be more than he made in a year).

With some difficulty the self-proclaimed wizard moved to the wall of the waiting room and in chalk drew a large circle with undecipherable symbols within its parameters. He yelled one word “Quiet!” Which made Harvey and Maru both jump. Surprisingly, the Junimos still and there is peace in the clinic for the first time in days.

He grinned at the medical staff, “Couldn’t hear myself think in here.”

Harvey has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when the wizard gets out a wand. Seriously? He’s muttering something that Harvey can’t quite catch and is sure is gibberish. He almost wants to laugh when the man turns around and makes an extravagant gesture with his arm. Harvey takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, feeling overwhelmingly tired. When he opens his eyes again, the Junimos are gone.

He blinks. Not a single Junimo remains.

The place is a mess however. Chairs are overturned, the plants have all been eaten. Magazines shredded. Harvey dared not look at the damage in his neat pharmacy and sterile hospital room.

“Where did they go?” He stammers, his entire belief system shaken.

The Wizard smiles enigmatically, “Somewhere I think they should be.” With a dramatic swirl of his cape, he exits, leaving Harvey and Maru to clean up the mess. Harvey thinks he can smell sulphur, but blames his overtired fevered brain.

**~~**~~**

In the Mayoral Manor, Lewis is doing his weekly book work for the town finances. A little bit off the top here and a little added to his own bank account. No-one ever asks to check the books. The amounts would not be missed.

There is a flash and suddenly Lewis is surrounded by small apple shaped creatures. They’re everywhere. A heaving mass of Junimos covers the floor and already some of the creatures are getting into his food cupboards, locust-like they start to methodically eat everything they come across.

Over in the clinic, broom in hand, Harvey swears he can hear screaming coming from Lewis’s house.

[louloubabys1992]

Five Favs of 2020

I was tagged by the amazingly talented @mercurial-madhouse​ to do this and I thank you for it as its been a while since I’ve looked at my fics or any of my work really....so here goes :D

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work.

1-Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die

Fic summary;

''You still want me?'' he asks, voice thick. ''Yes,'' Harry's answer is absolute, almost defiant. ''But my hands are empty,'' Louis shakes his head. ''I've got nothing to offer you.'' ''I don't care about that. Do you see my hands?'' Harry asks before he cups Louis' face. His touch is gentle. He's always gentle when it comes to Louis. ''When I'm not holding you, I feel empty, but like this,'' he presses closer until their faces are inches apart. He caresses the apple of Louis' cheeks and that's when Louis realizes that he's spilled tears and Harry's wiping them. He didn't even notice; too busy looking into Harry's kind, kind, kind alpha eyes. ''I feel like I'm holding the world and I don't feel empty anymore,''

Louis knows he's a defective omega. He knows its also not his fault but it is what it is. He takes the world head on even when the world is unkind to him. Not Harry though; stubborn as he is, he doesn't back down, not when it comes to Louis

Note;

Those who read this fic know that this is my first ever abo fic. I wrote this in a time when I thought the world was ending. I had been on lockdown like the rest of us with not much to do and yet all the time in the world to finally do what I’m truly passionate about, which is writing. I don’t know if anyone noticed this but the difference between this fic and my latest one was six months (aside from a 16 chapter fic which I was writing almost simultaneously with ‘’Hang there’’ so for it to get any kudos or comments at all is quite unbelievable to me and I am really proud of the journey it took me on. It was one bumpy but amazing ride.

2-As the snow flies

Fic Summary:

’'I can’t sleep without you anymore. Got used to you.’’ Harry is always like that, so transparent with his feelings, so abundant with his love. He cuddles Niall the most, always stares up at Zayn like he’s something cool and out of this world, always attentively serious with Liam and always helping Leona out in the kitchen. He’s not so different from the shy, timid boy he’d first met, still stands pigeon toed when he’s waiting for Louis and the lads to go home after school, still stands with his shoulders all hunched but then he sees Louis and suddenly he’s taller, brighter, smile and dimples on full display.

He’s so beautiful.

-Or the fic in which Louis and Harry are foster kids who get separated long before they could even understand what loving each other means. They were so young and since then, circumstances had made Louis tough, had forced him to harden up. What happens when he and Harry meet again?

Notes:

Probably the easiest fic I’ve ever written because the idea had been swirling in my head for years, I just never had the time to sit down and put pen on paper (or letters on a word document hahah). It’s not for the faint of heart, I know, but I’ve always wanted to write it and flush it out of my system and when I did finally start writing it, it wasn’t as hard as writing my other fics. Like, I knew how it would end, I knew what scenes I had to cut out, what fit, what did not fit and I have to say, even though the outcome is not the way I had imagined it at first but it is everything it was meant to be in the end :D

3-The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart

Written for the @bottomlouisficfest​

Fic summary:

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with. Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. Yeah...

Notes;

During my time of self isolation while the world tore itself apart, I busied myself with writing and watching k-drama series to distract from being anxious and swept by it all. It did wonders for me, occupying my time like that as I have always loved writing and this year, I found a new love for korean actors and their dramas and I have to say, their stories have such amazing plot lines. This fic is heavily inspired by one k-drama series called ‘’its okay not to be okay’’ starring Kim Soo Hyun and Seo Yea-ji (I hope I got the names spelled right). Please do watch it if you haven’t already :D

4-The Importance of being Earnest

part of the @1000feelingsfics​

fic summary;

Harry cannot help but pay extra attention to Louis' order, even if it is just a warm cup of tea with a dash of milk and no sugar. He also makes sure that the Danish Louis asks for is warm and fresh from the oven and not the one in the display, even if it means delaying Louis a bit when he fetches said Danish from the kitchen. It's all worth it when Louis smiles his crinkly smile at him before he rushes off to work.

Man, he's hot, he cannot help but think.

Or Harry is a barista who's been harboring a crush on Louis for months. Little does he know that Louis actually likes him back.

Note:

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before but this fic was included in a podcast which has never happened to me before and I am so so so happy and proud that my fic got that type of attention (or any attention at all hahahaha) so like, it is quite special to me and honestly, a lot of the fics written for the @1000feelingsfics​ challenge are really, truly incredible

5-Bed of Nails

fic summary;

Louis has been keeping a secret for a very long time. The boys don’t know because he doesn’t tell them, not because he doesn’t want to but because he doesn’t think they need to know or be bothered by his troubled past. When they find out, they look at Louis differently. But Harry doesn’t. No, he loves Louis and will do anything in his power for his love to find its way through the cracks.

Or the one where Louis has a troubled past that catches up to him and Harry does his best to save him from it.

Notes:

This is my longest fic ever, not just in chapter count but in time (it took me actual years to finish it, whew, what a journey). A lot of things happened while writing this fic but one event that stands out among the rest; I lost my younger brother back in 2016. He was only 23 years old. I started writing this fic in 2015 and finished it January 2020. Losing George crippled me both mentally and emotionally. I had no power, no inspiration and definitely no will to do anything but try and seem okay for the sake of my grieving parents. I bottled it all up to try and seem strong in front of them and in return, I forgot about anything else, including my passions and my hobbies. It took me a herculean effort to finish this fic and I mostly did it because writing to me, is like an itch. I can stop writing sure but every once in a while, that itch that nags at you like an incessant person knocking, begging you to just open up the door on the swirl of words blasting your brain in the middle of the night, begging you to just do something, doesn’t ever completely go away. So, I didn’t ignore it and decided to finish it, no matter how long it took. The itch to write went away after that and a sense of calm and accomplishment took over instead. I miss George till this day. Nothing will ever turn off that feeling but writing to me, in any form, whether in my journal or fics or whatever, does have the power to push me through the day. 

And there goes; my 2020 fics. I want to tag a lot of people but I think most people I know here already did it but if you see this or read this, take that as your cue to do it too. We all need some self love in this world and self love is what we deserve. 

Happy new year everybody :D

[deckyshep]

Unholiest - Chapter One

Original story by R.D. Shepard. Genre(s): Historical Fiction, Supernatural, Romance Content Warnings: HIV/AIDS diagnosis, homophobia, homophobic/transphobic slur usage, missing person Author’s Notes: Thanks for reading! This is chapter one of the Unholiest novel I’ve been working on for about a year now. It’s still in progress, but I’m excited to be able to share this first chapter with y’all. This novel was heavily inspired by a TTRPG series that I’ve been a huge fan of for a long time; with the uploading of each chapter, it’ll likely become apparent which TTRPG series it is, haha. Enjoy! Summary: Mac Whelan and Drew Kelly are a young, openly gay couple in the early 1980s, living in NYC and struggling to make ends meet. It’s hard enough being out of the closet in the midst of the AIDS crisis—but when Mac suddenly goes missing, Drew struggles with the grief of losing the first man he ever loved while also dealing with the existential dread of his own mortality. When he discovers what happened to his fiancé, though... heads will roll.

It had been almost an hour, and the doctor hadn’t even walked in yet.  Mac Whelan and his fiancé, Drew Kelly, sat impatiently in the office.  Drew’s hand was holding Mac’s leg down, as he had a tendency to bounce his leg when he was nervous.  They’d ran out of conversation to distract each other with, so they simply leaned against one another, keeping their eyes on the door.

“You know it’ll be fine, right?” Mac whispered, turning his head to kiss just below Drew’s ear, and Drew sighed.

“Please don’t make me have this conversation again.”  Drew rubbed Mac’s knee gently.  “We don’t know that, and you’re not making me feel better by heightening my expectations.”

Mac grinned a little. “No, I know.  I just wanna rub it in your face when the tests come back negative and it turns out I was just dehydrated.”  Drew scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smile.  “You know I’m gonna be right.  I drank so many Sex on the Beaches that night, and exactly one bottle of water.  I’ll admit, that was my fault, but that’s all that—”

They both sat upright when there was a knock at the door.  “Come in,” Drew quickly said, and the doctor walked in.  He was a bald-headed man with thick-rimmed glasses and a long white doctor’s coat that covered a crisp, plaid button-down.

“Mr. Whelan,” the doctor greeted Mac, shaking his hand before sitting down at the desk.  “And… Drew, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Drew answered a little too quickly.  “Dr. Stannard, did you… get anything back?”

Dr. Stannard nodded.  “If you remember correctly, Mac, we tested you for HIV.”

Drew’s hand was tightly held in his fiancé’s as Mac’s leg bounced nervously in his seat.  “Right.”

“Which stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus.”  The doctor set down a clipboard, removing a couple of papers from the board and looking them over. “It’s a virus that, depending on the patient, can remain dormant for many years, or start attacking the immune system right away.  You were at risk due to your relationship with another man, and after your last spill, we’re all very glad you came in to get tested—”

“Can you just cut to the chase?” Drew interrupted.

Mac squeezed his hand, chastising him with a look.  “Baby, he’s trying to make sure we know the facts.  Even though I don’t have HIV, it’s important that we stay safe.  Right, Stannard?”  The doctor opened his mouth to speak, then closed it with a soft sigh. Mac felt his mouth go dry.  “Doc?”

“Mr. Whelan, I’m sorry. Your tests came back positive.”

Drew’s grip on his hand grew painfully tight, and Mac blinked.  “Excuse me?”

The doctor furrowed his brow, obviously never enjoying this part of the job. “You tested positive for HIV, Mac.  Moreso, we’re afraid the virus is working faster than we’d expected. Mr. Kelly, if you have been his only sexual partner, you’re going to need to get tested as well so we can make a care plan for both of you.”

Mac heard Drew start to cry, but he couldn’t really feel anything.  Not the pain from Drew squeezing his hand, not the tears soaking into his shirt sleeve, not the coldness of the room.  “I… No, there’s gotta be a mistake.”

“These tests are ninety-nine percent accurate, Mr. Whelan.”  The doctor sighed, setting his hands flat against the desk.  “I know this is difficult to hear. And I’m genuinely sorry for having to be the person to bring you this news.  I will answer whatever questions you have for me.”

“Is…” Mac shook his head. “Is there a treatment right now? Like—there has to be something, right? We can do something about this?”

The doctor looked solemn as he spoke.  “We have some experimental trials going on right now, but as of right now, we don’t have anything to actively fight the virus yet.”

“This is bullshit.” Mac said it quietly at first, like he was still comprehending it, but then he stood up suddenly, letting go of his fiancé and beginning to shout. “This is bullshit!  You don’t have anything?  Are you fucking kidding me?”  Drew tried to take his hand to calm him down, but he pushed it away.  His face was beet red.  “Half the gays in Manhattan have HIV and no one’s doing anything about it! This is fucking bullshit!”

Dr. Stannard shook his head, genuinely looking remorseful.  “Mr. Whelan, I’m sorry.  We’re doing what we can.  Finding funding for HIV research has been… difficult.”

“I don’t—” Mac grabbed at his own hair, as though to keep himself from doing anything he’d regret. “You don’t… you don’t have anything?” His voice grew quieter, and he sat down in the chair, staring at his lap in defeat.  Drew wrapped an arm around his shoulders, trying to suppress his own tears.  “How long do we have?”

“It’s hard to say, Mac.” Dr. Stannard clasped his hands together, sighing.  “It might be a couple of years. It could be a few months.”

“Months,” Mac repeated hollowly, reaching up to hold Drew’s hand.  “Fuck.”

-

Love of my life,

It’s worse than they thought.  I might not live to see next year.  I needed to tell you, but I didn’t know if I had the strength to tell you face-to-face. You have to get tested, baby.  Get some treatment before it gets worse.  And before you start blaming yourself, I don’t blame you in the slightest.  This HIV shit is a silent killer.  The doc said people can go years without knowing it’s in their bodies. There’s no way you could’ve known you had it.  Make sure you check up on Willie, let him know he might have it, too.

I found someone who’ll take care of it for me.  It’s not a cure, but it’ll keep me from dying painfully.

Please don’t look for me. You have to live the rest of your life happily without me.  I know you can do it.  Find another man who’ll make you feel like the queen you are, baby.  You deserve so much better than to watch me die.  You have to live.

I know this isn’t easy. I know it’s so fucking hard, and horrible, and painful.  I didn’t want to leave.  But I’ve weighed the options, and letting you watch me die is the worst thing I could do. You’re the most wonderful man in the world, baby. You’re so perfectly imperfect to me.  I’d kill anyone in the world just to be with you one last time.

Feel your feelings. I know you’ll be depressed, pissed, begging for one last chance.  You feel those feelings as deeply as you can.  But you have to move on from them so you can feel happy again with someone who’ll treat you better than I did.

If you have to, forget me.  If it makes it easier to move on, pretend like I never existed.  But know that I love you like the sky loves its stars, framing them like the beauties they are.  I love you like the tides love the moon, moving every night at her command. I love you like a prospector loved gold, traveling thousands of miles just to get a glimpse of the stuff.

And most importantly, I love you more.  I will never forget you, Drew.

Lover-boy

-

“Drew Carey, I know you’re in there.  Come here and open this damn door before I bust it down.”

Drew Kelly sat on the kitchen floor, hugging his knees to his chest.  He wore nothing but a pair of red boxer briefs and that white, red-trimmed shirt Mac had gotten at his first concert, the one that was big enough to be baggy on Drew. His red hair, normally pulled back tightly into a bun, was hanging down messily in his eyes.  The record player sat on the kitchen counter just above him – it was playing Love of my Life by Queen, one of Mac’s favorite singles.

He couldn’t hear himself crying anymore, couldn’t feel the tears burning his red cheeks.  It took a couple of times for him to hear Deloreah’s voice through the front door, and even then, he didn’t think he had the strength to get up.  But once Deloreah made that threat, he sighed, wiping his eyes and stumbling up to his feet.

Deloreah’s face quickly changed from stern to pitying as soon as Drew opened the door – he wouldn’t even look up at her.  “Oh, baby.” She immediately stepped inside, wrapping her arms around the redhead and embracing him snugly.  “Thank you for openin’ the door, baby.  Let’s go sit down, sweet boy – you look like you’re about to pass out.”  She closed the door and locked it before leading him to the beat-up, hideous red couch in his living room.  Drew collapsed in his seat, and Deloreah kissed the top of his head, walking over to the kitchen to turn the record player off.  “You ain’t eaten nothing today, I can tell.”

“Not hungry,” Drew mumbled, bringing his knees up to his chest and hiding his face down between them.

Deloreah sighed, putting her hand on her hip as she turned to look at him. “You gotta get somethin’ in your stomach, Drew.  You’re gonna start gettin’ sick.” Drew didn’t respond, merely started sniffling.  Her face fell, and she came back over to him, sitting next to him and beginning to rub his back soothingly.  “I know, baby.  I know it hurts.  Nothin’ hurts more than losin’ the love of your life.” She took a deep breath, glancing around the filthy apartment. “But... it’s been three months. You haven’t even gone to the doctor yet. I don’t want you starvin’ to death.”

Drew began to cry quietly, keeping his head between his knees.  “What’s the fucking point?” he whispered.  “I love him more than I love breathing, and he’s just... gone.  He’s just fucking gone.”

“He wouldn’t want you slowly killin’ yourself,��� Deloreah started.

But Drew suddenly looked up at her, harshly wiping the tears drenching his face.  “I didn’t want him to leave, but here we are!”  He was beginning to ramble angrily – not at Deloreah, but at himself.  “Nobody gets what they want!  I met the love of my life at the wrong time, and now I’m gonna--” Drew’s face suddenly fell, and he let out a soft, trembling gasp, more tears streaming down his cheeks.  “Fuck. I’m gonna die alone.  I killed the love of my life.  I gave him AIDS, and now I’m paying for it,” he sobbed, grabbing tightly onto his hair.  “I was a slut!  I was a fucking whore before I met him, and I thought everything was just gonna be okay, like a goddamn moron!”

“Shut your damn mouth for two seconds,” Deloreah said sternly, raising her voice just a bit. Drew clenched his eyes shut, pressing his face between his knees again.  “You are not a moron,” Deloreah murmured, rubbing his back affectionately again.  “And you weren’t no slut, either.  You were living your life, sweet pea, and things got complicated too quickly.  This doesn’t have nothin’ to do with you or anything you’ve done.”

Drew cried quietly, hugging his knees tightly.  Deloreah sighed, scooting closer and pulling him into her side to hold him tightly. “It’s just bad luck, baby.  It ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.  Just bad luck.”

[jalapeno-princess]

Before You Go

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions about mental illness, depression, anxiety, insecurities

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: When Got7 has a break during their world tour, Mark rushes back to Korea in order to return home to you. However, when he comes home to an empty apartment, he isn’t too surprised. Although he didn’t know about your condition, you were no longer acting like yourself a couple of weeks before. After reading the letter you left him, he realizes that you were suffering and he never hated himself more for not doing anything about it sooner.

A/N: Hey guys, I got inspired to rush this very sad imagine after listening to the song “Before you go” by Lewis Capaldi and I could not stop listening to it. It’s such a heartbreaking song and I remember seeing a tiktok about Got7 with that song and I actually cried. Hearing that he wrote this song about his aunt who committed suicide made my heart hurt. I’ve suffered from both depression and anxiety for quite some time and at one of the lowest points of my life, I just so happened to stumble across of the 7 most wonderful human beings and my life changed for the better. I’d be lying if I said I don’t have my bad days, but watching their videos or listening to their songs really helps uplift my spirits. I’m so sorry if you have any sort of mental disorder but I hope you know that you are so beautiful and so loved. The pain doesn’t last forever and if you ever need someone to talk to, my messages are always open! And please, don’t make someone the main source of your happiness. It isn’t someone’s responsibility to make you happy. Everyone suffers something we don’t know and the minute that person does something to upset you, it never once leaves your mind and they no longer make you happy. With that being said, read with caution and enjoy.

I fell by the wayside like everyone else I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself Our every moment, I start to replace 'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say

When you hurt under the surface Like troubled water running cold Well, time can heal, but this won'tSo, before you go Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather So, before you go

Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless So, before you go

He knew it was coming whether he liked it or not. Your smile no longer reached your eyes whenever the two of you would FaceTime, your contagious laughter than he loved so much didn’t sound genuine like it used to, you would always respond with short answers to each and every one of your messages. 

Mark didn’t have to see you in person to know that you weren’t yourself anymore; that you weren’t happy anymore and he hated that he didn’t realize something was wrong until it was too late. When he first walked in to your shared apartment, he didn’t think that anything was out of the ordinary. It was natural for you to not be at home. 

Being a full-time college student with a full-time job took up most of your time and you’ve told him being occupied with all these responsibilities helped take your mind off of his absence. As soon as he walked in to the bedroom, he was quick to notice how empty the room was. Your vanity was cleared of all your makeup and jewelry, the table that your books and laptop occupied was empty and when he went to open your side of the closet, it was empty. 

Mark didn’t know if he wasn’t responding to the fact that you were gone because he was in disbelief, because he thought this was a terrible nightmare that he was soon to wake up from or because he didn’t want to accept the fact that you actually left. It took him a few minutes to recollect his thoughts, but once he accepted that this was actually happening and that you took all of your things and moved out, he found himself sinking to his knees and let out the most heartbreaking, gut wrenching sob. 

Being a KPOP idol wasn’t the most easiest job out there, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love traveling the world and getting to perform in stadiums and arenas alongside of his six best friends. Other than the rumors made about him, the mistreatment he and the rest of Got7 experienced from their company and the unnecessary hate he’d receive on a daily basis, the only other thing he hated about being an idol was having to go months without being with you; his soulmate, the love of his life, his person. 

If Mark had the choice, he’d take you on tour with him. He was happiest whenever he was with you and each time he had to go on tour or travel around Asia for all the different photo shoots or reality tv shows he’d star in, he couldn’t find it in himself to completely enjoy the opportunity in its entirety. The love Mark had for you was stronger and deeper than anything in the entire world including his career. 

He’d tell you time and time again that he would give up all the fame and success if it meant getting to spend every possible moment with you. You were his safe haven; his home. Every time something went wrong in his life or he felt like things weren’t going his way, he’d always run to you in search of comfort and salvation. Sure, he’d find confidants in his members and some of his family members, but nobody understood him the way you did. 

Nobody knew what to say to make him feel better like you did. Nobody’s embrace and the sound of their heartbeat against his chest made him feel calm and at ease like yours did. It was in that moment of self pity that he realized, he was the reason why you left. When the two of you first met over four years ago, you were suffering from both anxiety and depression at the time. 

There were days where you would get sad and even cry for no reason and sometimes you’d end up hyperventilating or feel like you weren’t able to breathe and not know the reason. From the time you were younger, you had a tendency of shutting people out of your life completely before they even got to really know you. Your parents never understood why you hardly ever had any friends, up until the day they got a call from your 8th grade counselor suggesting that you go see a therapist. 

Although you hardly ever talked to anybody unless you really had to, it was hard not to hear about the countless rumors about you being mysterious and weird on top of receiving the nickname “ghost girl” because it was as if you didn’t even exist. On the fateful day you were introduced to the devastatingly handsome idol, your life changed entirely for the better. 

You were interning at a hospital as a receptionist when he came storming in to the emergency room trying his best alongside of BamBam to help carry Yugyeom inside. It was in that moment that you learned the youngest boy sprained his ankle while practicing some choreography and you were quick to register him in the system and luckily the emergency room wasn’t all too crowded when the three of them arrived. 

Both BamBam and Mark stayed in the waiting room for a couple of hours until BamBam decided to get some food for the two of them. When he left, Mark found himself walking over to you with the intention of getting to know you. He was too busy focusing on trying to get Yugyeom medical attention to really talk to you, but once the nurses took over, he got to admire your beauty and took the chance to see if you were interested in going on a date with him. You were extremely beautiful; there was no doubt about it. 

Mark had a hard time keeping his eyes off of you and snuck some looks here and there to prevent BamBam catching on to his attraction to you, but once the younger boy was gone, he planned on making it aware that he admired how well you worked under pressure and how you did whatever you could to make sure Yugyeom was in the right hands and that he was going to be okay. In the hour that BamBam was away, Mark learned that you were currently in the process of becoming a registered nurse. 

Not only were you going to school full time, but you were also a resident assistant and worked as a receptionist to help pay for medical school. You also got to learn that Mark was a KPOP idol and that he and the rest of Got7 were in your hometown for two weeks for a concert. The two of you immediately hit it off; you fell for his charm, his gentle personality and his gorgeous looks. He fell for your passion, determination, strength and your beauty was just a bonus. In both his free time and yours, you both went on multiple dates. 

Since it was his first time in your hometown, you took him to places that you loved visiting and hoped that he would end up loving each and every location just as much as you did. There were a few kisses shared, whispers of interest and adoration for one another, a couple of hugs and many cuddles. You knew you should’ve told him about your mental state, but you were afraid of scaring him away before you really got to knew him. 

With everyone who tried to befriend you and actually wanted to be apart of your life, you let them know right off the bat that you weren’t normal. You didn’t want to make friends with someone only for them to judge you for your mental disorders but for some reason, Mark was different. He made you laugh and smile so effortlessly. His smile sent your body in flames. For the first time in a very long time, you were genuinely happy. 

A few days before they went to fly to the next country, Mark asked you to be his girlfriend. He told you that he was falling for you faster than he’d like to admit and that he’s never felt this way about anyone before. Deep down, you knew you should’ve said no. He already had so much on his plate; dealing with someone with so much baggage was not what he needed. The last thing Mark needed in his life was to become a babysitter and personal therapist to a grown women suffering from both anxiety and depression. But you couldn’t. 

You were selfish. You wanted Mark just as much as he claimed to have wanted you; which is why you weren’t surprised when you found yourself saying yes while immediately smashing your lips against his. Mark informed you that dating an idol wouldn’t be easy, especially since the two of you would be in a long distance relationship; but he promised you that he would try his best to contact you as much as he could and that the two of you would plan to visit each other when time permitted you to do so. 

Since Mark was the first boyfriend you’ve had, you weren’t used to the idea of a long distance relationship. You didn’t know what to expect. The idea both worried you as much as the thought of dating him excited you. There were millions of girls who adored him and he was surrounded by so many beautiful idols, actresses, models and singers. What if he realized that he could do so much better than you and that you were a mistake; a brief lapse of judgement he made because he was lonely and you were one of the only girls that weren’t throwing themselves at him? 

Your conscience always tried to make you feel bad, no matter how happy you were or how good things were going in your life. Right now, Mark was the only thing keeping you going and you tried your best to push the negative thoughts to the back of your mind, but it was only natural for you to thing negatively. Mark in more or less words was the perfect boyfriend. Even if he was extremely busy, he made it a point to contact you twice a day; once he woke up and right before he went to bed. 

If he had more time, he spent all of it talking to you. As much as you would prefer to see him on a daily basis, you could still feel so much love from him through computer and phone screens. When he didn’t have any schedules or when you went on vacation, you’d fly up to Korea or he’d fly down to spend time with you. The more you got to spend time and physically get to see your boyfriend, everything seemed to be okay. 

You were so focused on being in the moment with Mark that you didn’t have time to be sad. However, when he would leave, or when you’d have to return back home, you could physically feel your chest get heavy. It was your fault; you made him the only reason for your happiness. You and Mark hardly ever got in to arguments but when you did, it got really bad for you mentally. 

Each and every time you’d fight, you would always blame yourself even if it wasn’t even your fault. Mark had a tendency to get jealous and in the first few months of your relationship, you became aware that Mark was extremely protective over you. You didn’t understand where his insecurities came from; if anything you were the one who should be envious and insecure. 

You’d see the way he flirted with other idols every now and then. He was also very flirtatious with his fans and you knew it was all apart of the idol image, but that didn’t make you feel any better. As much as you wanted to voice how you felt, you were afraid that it would spiral in to a conversation you weren’t ready for. You were afraid that he would find out about your illness and look at you in a different light. You were afraid that he would finally come to the realization that he deserved so much better than you. 

You were afraid of losing him. 

Dating Mark had its ups and downs, but you loved him with every fiber of your being. He was your safe haven; your favorite hiding place; an escape from the real world and you knew you’d be okay as long as you had him in your life. Things were going very good for the two of you for the last few years. After graduating from college over two years ago, you applied for a working visa in order to move to Korea and be able to see Mark more often. 

He asked you to move in with him before you could even arrive and you were honestly over the moon. Time and time again, you’d find yourself daydreaming about getting to go to sleep in his arms and waking up next to him. He was the definition of a gentleman and made sure to remind you just how much he loved you and thought the world of you on a daily basis. On multiple occasions, Mark would bring up marriage and how he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. 

There was nothing more you wanted in this world than to marry Mark; the only person that meant anything to you; the only source of your happiness, but you were afraid that you’d ruin your relationship somewhere down the line like you ruined everything else. During your entire relationship, you did your best in hiding your mental illnesses; you’d suffer alone and cry whenever he wasn’t around. You would go and see a therapist while he was working; you really wanted your relationship with Mark to last and in order to do so, you had to change yourself to be someone Mark would be proud to date. 

Unfortunately, there was nothing that could help you. When Got7 went on tour again, this time it would be for an entire year. You didn’t think you would be able to live without him for an entire year. Sure, he’d have some breaks and return back to Korea every now and then and you could visit whatever country they were in, but it just wasn’t enough. While he was away, the voices only grew louder and so did your insecurities and negative thoughts. 

You’re too fucked up to be loved. 

You’re crazy for thinking a guy like Mark could ever like you. 

He can do so much better than you. 

He’s probably cheating on you. 

You’re only holding him back from so many things. 

If he knew how insane you really were, he’d leave in an instant. 

You tried your best to ignore the voices; tried to pretend as if there was nothing wrong with you. Tried to pretend that you could maybe one day actually become normal and be able to live without a care in the world, but that kind of life could never be yours. Mark was a blessing; an angel on earth; a beautiful distraction and you would be selfish if you allowed to let this relationship continue. 

The thought of no longer having Mark in your life felt like a stab in the chest. A life without Mark was not one worth living, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You were only hurting him the longer you dated him for. While he was gone, you decided you would pack your bags and leave him completely. It took a few weeks to come to that decision, you were so stubborn and you knew you’d regret it one day, but you wanted to leave him before he could leave you. 

Since you were still so in love with him and would probably always be in love with him, you kept in contact with him and did your best to make sure that he didn’t sense that something was wrong. He would call you and tell you all about his day, how much fun the concert was and that he missed you, but he never asked you how you were doing. He always sent you pictures, but he no longer asked for any. You felt as if he was slowly falling out of love with you. He didn’t have to say it and even if he was great with reaching out to you, it felt like you were more like a friend to him rather than his girlfriend. 

When you moved out completely and made your way back home, you cried for what felt like hours. If being away from him was already so upsetting, what more now that you were running away from your relationship; from him? You thought it was what was best for him; but it was slowly killing you. There were so many times where you wanted to tell him the truth. 

For all you knew, he could be extremely understanding and would want to do whatever he could to help you; yet the chance of him laughing in your face were even higher. Mark had problems of his own and was very vocal about anything that was bothering him. Shouldn’t he have felt as if something was wrong since you never complained once about anything? 

You were a licensed nurse, studying to get your bachelor’s degree in a country you weren’t familiar with. You were all alone when Mark was in and out of the country. Wouldn’t he think that there was a chance you were struggling and having a hard time? Even if you didn’t say anything, did he not have the smallest amount of common sense to put two and two together? As the days went by, you no longer felt butterflies swarm in your tummy when you looked at him. 

The thought of him no longer made you smile like an idiot. He wasn’t the same man who told you silly hospital puns to get your attention all those years ago. He no longer made you happy and that’s how you knew it was the end. When the only source of your happiness no longer made you happy, there was no point in staying with him anymore. Mark was in a fetal position, crying on the floor for almost the entire day. 

Where did you go? Why did you leave? You were just talking to him a few days ago, how long were you planning on leaving for? He wanted to call you to get the answers of his many questions. Did you no longer love him? Did you grow tired of the distance? Were you okay? 

When his sobs slowly settled down, he stood up with the tiny amount of energy in his body and went on a search for his phone. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you; but he just needed to hear your voice. He wanted you to tell him something happened with your family and you had to go be with them but that you’d come back later. In that moment of self pity, your last phone call came back like a slap in the face. At the time, Mark didn’t think your words meant anything but now that you were gone, they made so much sense and he hated it. Hated himself. 

“You know if one day, we’re no longer together, I want you to know that I will always love and support you. You will always be my person Mark, even if you find someone else and I’m no longer yours.” 

Why didn’t he realize the distance earlier? There was obviously something different about the way you would talk and the tone of your voice. It no longer had that sweet, bubbly intonation it used to have. You also never contacted him as much as you used to. Whenever he told you he loved you and he missed you, he felt as if you said it just to say it. Before he could continue searching for his phone, it was then that he saw the tiny little post-it note on his pillow and once he finished reading it, he released an ear piercing scream of frustration.

“Dear Mark,

I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore. I’m not happy, I haven’t been for a long time. I don’t thing I ever was genuinely happy once in my life until I met you and honestly the only moments I experienced happiness were when I was with you. Unfortunately, nothing made me happy anymore; including you. I felt as if I was preventing you from reaching your fullest potential. I wish you nothing but health and success. I’m going to miss you so much Mark. Thank you for showing me so much love and happiness for the time being. You’re an amazing person Mark and I meant what I said when I told you I’d love you forever. Please don’t come looking for me. It’s for the best.

Sincerely, y/n.”

Would we be better off by now If I'd have let my walls come down? Maybe, I guess we'll never know You know, you know

Before you go Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather So, before you go Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless So, before you go

[fenweak]

High School AUs

College/University AUs

⭐ A+ fics (imho) | All of the recs

High School AUs

High Scores by popfly ⭐

Kaner is a DDR master, Jonny is ultra-competitive. Bollig just wants to make out with Shawzy.

Dynamical Systems by jezziejay ⭐ - math geek patrick! jock jonny!

Jonny’s plenty smart, but there’s hockey practice just before a double math period every Tuesday and Wednesday morning. He gets to class on time. Physically, he’s there. But his mind is still on the ice. Throw in a kidney infection that keeps him home for two weeks, and Jonny’s struggling. Not failing, but that C is dragging his GPA down, and his mom is making clucking noises. The same noises that mean hockey time is coming up for review.

There’s a note on the student boards advertising tutoring.

promise i'm worthy (to hold in your arms) [One and Only series] - teenage angst and american douchebags ft. ryan kesler

"So come on and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile."

love is a contact sport by hazel, mermaid  ⭐ - high school soulmates!

"And the tragic reality of Patrick's life is that even though they broke up over a year ago, he and Johnny still play beautiful hockey together."

A high school AU, featuring dream-fish, bad movie dates, and a little bit of magic.

Movie Nights or Five Times Jonny Wanted Popcorn (and One Time He Didn’t) by CoffeeKristin

Patrick had only been working at the movie theater a few weeks when a noisy bunch of boys from his high school burst through the doors just before the last showing of Captain America: Civil War and come tumbling into the lobby, whooping it up. He sighed and put down the containers of popcorn he was counting, mentally preparing himself for the asshattery he was likely to endure.

“What can I get you?” he asked the crowd, and true to form, no one was listening so he waited another moment. Finally one of the boys got pushed to the front, stumbling into the counter. “Fuck, Duncs, not so hard,” he said, and oh. That was Jonathan Toews: Captain of the high school soccer team, president of the student council, son of the mayor. Basically, everything Patrick wasn’t.

do it how you want it done ⭐

(very vaguely) grease-inspired high school au.

yeah, i went there.

kissing your honeyed eyes by forochel

The one that's the British boarding school AU.

This Is What A Love Song Sounds Like by fourfreedoms  ⭐ - reunion fic but god the flashbacks! the angst!

When he came out after his freshman year of college his mother said she’d always known, and he’d had to fight down the bizarre wave of paranoia that maybe everybody knew, maybe they’d all just been letting him sweat all those years. It was crazy of course, there was only one person who’d known, who had any idea.Patrick Kane.

Ten years after they fucked around in high school, Patrick and Jonny meet back up at their high school reunion.

roll with it by hazel  ⭐

The one where a bunch of Blackhawks inexplicably go to boarding school, Tazer is the world's meanest DM, and Pat doesn't know why anyone would think cutting the head off a hydra was good idea.

Light Me Up by sahiya - where they both went to Shattuck!

Being serious about hockey always meant Patrick would have to leave home. For a long time he thought it would be for juniors and a billet family. But things don't go as planned, and he finds himself at Shattuck-St. Mary's.

His roommate's name is Jonathan Toews. He can't keep his water bottles on his side of the room, and he's unfortunately, stupidly hot. Because Patrick's life sucks.

boot theory by mentalistecbm - teen angst, break up

Everyone knows that they're broken up.

glory days by liketheroad ⭐ - soulmate, teen angst

He never expected his destiny to involve anything but hockey, never thought it would show up in flip flops, but when Patrick smiles at him across the locker room, quick and surprised, Johnny lets his priorities shift and change without a hint of reluctance or regret.

There's Only Blood Running In My Veins by mikarala - pwp

Patrick and Jonny are making out in Patrick’s bedroom when Jonny says it. “I--I,” he stutters out, in between a moan, “I want you to fuck me.”

Gold Seeking Ends by liveinfury - Flipped AU

“Wanna go on the tire swing with me after?” Jonny asks.

“No,” Patrick answers.

“Oh,” Jonny says, looking deflated. “What about the jungle gym?”

“Nope."

“Um, okay,” Jonny says, shrugging before walking away.Sam giggles some more. “I can’t believe Jonny, the dirt eater, likes you.”Patrick smirks at him. “Everyone likes me.”

(or Patrick and Jonny meet in the second grade. Jonny's instantly smitten, Patrick is...not. Ten years later, things start flipping.)

Keep Calm and Don't Think of Star Wars podfic by exmanhater ⭐ - A Clueless AU

After I once again assure Abby that Johnny and I are not, NOT related (by googling the difference between half-brother and stepbrother because jesus fucking christ am I am the only knowledgeable one around here?), she agrees to help.

but i can write a song 

“We’re not going to be called Jonny and the Patricks,” Jonny says, sounding entirely too put upon  about a name that’s clearly awesome.

[or; the high school band au you probably didn't ask for]

lost in brightness - pat, jon and a crowded train

“You’re gonna get caught one day,” Jonny sighs, herding Pat in front of him as they squeeze onto  the train, the crowd thicker than usual. It’s been raining on and off, fall well and truly taking the city in  its grasp. Jonny’s already looking forward to meeting Pat by his house every morning, red-cheeked  and rugged up, his face barely visible between his toque and scarf.

you're mending what's broken - a stats nerd Patrick story

The guy who sits behind Jonny in AP Stats wants to know how  many shots on goal he had last Tuesday. Or at least, that's how it starts.

A high school AU featuring stats nerd Kaner and his Tragic Hockey  Backstory (TM), without much time or inclination toward actual tragedy. Instead there is  discussion of Corsi. And kissing.

Examine Other Beauties by kiwoa - theater kids!

"I," Jonny says, and he slips his headset up from around his neck to nestle over his ears, "am not an actor."

"Good thing I don't need you to act."

"No."

"Jonny."

"Patrick."

"Please?" Kaner cants forward and tilts his face up to blink at Jonny. In the fluttering light that filters in from the stage, his eyes look unnaturally pale. "Just read the lines, okay? I want to see how well I've memorized them."

Jonny scrubs a hand over his face. The motion knocks his mike askew. "One scene."

A/S/L  ⭐ - 90s teenaged kids meeting on webcam omg

The internet is a dangerous place, or:

Patrick and Jonny meet, lie through their teeth, and fall in love. Mostly that last part.

Actual Prom King Brandon Saad by popfly  ⭐

Patrick might be a little jealous of the new kid.

Sure Brandon is basically the prom king from every feel-good teenage movie Patrick’s sisters have made him watch, but that doesn’t mean Jonny wants that.

Sign it with your heart by tictactoews + podfic by exmanhater  ⭐

Patrick loses a bet and is dared to plant an anonymous love letter into a random locker. It just so happens that the locker belongs to one Jonathan Toews, captain of the school hockey team.Meanwhile, Jonny finds himself in need of a math tutor, and following the advice of his teacher, he asks the new kid, Patrick Kane, for help.

a complicated kindness by liketheroad - young and figuring out d/s  ⭐

Patrick still remembers how scared Sharpy looked, just for a second there. He remembers not understanding why anyone would back away from Johnny when he was like that, why they wouldn’t want to strain closer, pushing to see how much further he’d go.

What Comes Easy by impertinence - summer camp of angst

Kaner's determined to never grow up; Tazer's determined to grow up as quickly as possible. Over eleven years of summer camp, they learn to meet in the middle. Set in stlkrchk's Camp Quaquanantuck universe.

mathletes are totally athletes by ukiyo91, yukonecho

Mathlete Patrick Kane never thought that when he was assigned to tutor hockey jock Jonathan Toews that he would be swept up into a new sport...or into Captain Serious.

Toews was like the guild leader Patrick had always aspired to be in WoW, but more of an asshole.

i'll be the embrace that keeps you warm by longtime_lurker - huddling for warmth

It is like death, but it is not death; lovelier. / Cold, inconvenienced, late, what will you do now / with the gift of your left life?

Clumsy by CoffeeKristin - a short first kiss fic uwu

“Knock it off,” she hissed at him. “He’s looking at you!”

“Who?” Patrick said, his head swiveling around, resulting in Erica smacking him again. “Hey! Quit hitting me!”

“Then quit being an idiot,” she huffed. “Jonny Toews, you dunce. He’s looking over here, and you’re biting on the string of your hoodie like a moron.”

look around once in a while by achilleees

One man’s struggle to take it easy.

Based off of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” but instead of girlfriends and daddy issues, there’s hockey and pining. And daddy issues.

Summer Lovin' by CoffeeKristin - est. relationship insecurities

Patrick's home from summer camp, and Jonny's first on his list of to-do's. Somehow a little actual angst/plot worked it's way in. But mostly it's just porn.

Ninety-Nine Point Three Percent by jimtiberiuskirk - best friends mutually pining

The problem is, is that Patrick is 99.3% sure that Jonny knows all about his giant, embarrassing man-crush on him.

bring it if you really want it by staraflur - harry potter AU

It starts like this:

Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so:

America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesn’t have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. There’s no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800’s, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably can’t control your powers, sport.

(if you're feeling down) i can feel you up by hawkeytime

"Hey," Patrick said appreciatively from behind where Jonny stood, stoic as always, by the side of the pool. "Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you have a sweet ass.”Or: How Patrick Kane spent his summer hitting on the hot lifeguard with the help of some inspired (read: awful) pickup lines.

kiss and tell by hawkeytime 

“Trust me,” Sharpy says, “this will be good for you.”And then, he shoves Jonny into what appears to be a mostly empty coat closet and slams the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck, Sharp!” Jonny calls, pounding at the door which is, of course, locked.

“Enjoy your seven minutes in heaven, Tazer,” Sharpy singsongs.Then, the bare bulb mounted on the ceiling flares to life, illuminating one Patrick Kane.

Fuck.

i know you are (but what am i) by booktubelover7 - always a girl!pat

Pat throws up her arms in celebration after Toews makes a beautiful goal off of Pat’s assist. She crows in celebration as Toews slams into her, shouting in her ear.

Pat’s playing, she’s playing, she’s playing. Not just that, but she’s winning too.When her line gets back to the bench, Pat leans over to speak into Toews’ ear. “Thank you,” she says. Her teammate just turns his head to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.

Love or Torture - a/b/o

Patrick Kane is too short, too Omega, and his heat too delayed for him to play hockey. Jonathan Toews has a plan to bring glory to both of them.

keep buying the stars by medusacascade22- teacher!Jonny 

“Fuck,” Jonny groans. He props his elbows up on his desk and lets his head fall into his hands. It’s going to be a long fucking year.

(or, in which Jonathan Toews is Patrick Kane's teacher, and shit gets real.)

College/Uni AUs

cello suite no. 1 - THIS IS ONE IS A CLASSIC 👌

The first time Jonathan meets Patrick Kane is because he hits him with a lacrosse ball.

In Jonathan's defense, he threw a perfect pass to Seabs, who failed to just reach the one or two feet above his head to catch it.

"Oh shit," Jonathan says when he watched the ball arc across the lawn and whack a blond kid squarely between his shoulder blades.

"Heads up!" he calls belatedly.

this is how we do it series by staraflur ⭐ - frat bros AU!!!

He doesn’t think Zeus is supposed to have a sword, but their Zeus does. So now Jonny does, because of course he’s in charge. He looks, Patrick is drunk enough to acknowledge, far better than anyone has a right to in a grody old Halloween costume that’s probably soaked up the butt sweat of dozens, if not hundreds, of Theta-presidents past. Jonny wears it, Patrick gets the sword. Win-win.

AKA that time there was a frat AU (of course).

This Heart Is Not For Wasting by fourfreedoms - oblivious best friends

Patrick puts his head in his hands. “How could this get any worse?”

“Wait, it’s not like, a big deal is it?” Duncs asks, looking at him and Jonny in turn. “The way you and Jonny are weird about each other? She’s gotta have made her peace with it ages ago.”

A college AU.

love song for love songs by boodreaus  ⭐ - angst, internalized homophobia

“Right,” Jonny says. “Cool.” He seems to hesitate, pausing when Patrick goes for the door handle, and then, right as Patrick’s bracing himself to run for the house, Jonny says, “You should come.”

Patrick turns back at him and is handed a piece of paper. “To our next show, I mean,” Jonny is saying as Patrick examines what turns out to be a flyer, thick black lettering taking up every square inch of space on the brilliant sunshine-colored surface. “It’s tomorrow night, at the showcase. Feel free to say yes or no or whatever. If you don’t know, it’s cool.”

“I’ll,” Patrick starts, and then stops, blinking up at him. Jonny’s just watching him, kind of, elbow resting on the steering wheel. “Maybe,” he finally says, and Jonny smiles.

yet we will make him run - some more angst, except more erudite

Kaner the English Lit major AU.

Sigma Chi series by hatrickane - frat bros hook up and then angst about it

Jonny and Patrick run into each other at a frat party. Patrick proposes a way to pass the time.

Can't Wait by LouLa - first time pwp

Pat's on a hair trigger.

when you flex like that - hookup in a frat party

Johnny isn’t drunk, but he does let Sharpy and a couple of frat-looking guys he doesn’t even know talk him into a contest of shots. It’s Sharpy’s fault — he appeals to the competitive side he knows Johnny can’t let go of at the best of times, and one of the guys, blonde curls, a lazy smirk of a grin, picks up on it pretty fast too.

Hope you don't mind by haroldslouis

“Oh, sorry, man,” the guy says, giving him a quick grin. “Thought you were someone else.” He taps the visor of Patrick’s snapback and just like that, he turns around and disappears into the crowd.Patrick doesn’t know how long he stands there, just looking at the general direction he disappeared in.

or, 5 times Jonny mistook Patrick for someone else + 1 time he definitely didn't

Room 4 Rent

Patrick stares at the ad for a while, clicking back and forth between the Craigslist page and his  fantasy hockey league, chewing on his bottom lip.

3 bedroom apartment near Loyola. One room available, others occupied by two male students.  Shared living room and kitchen. Two bathrooms. Rent split three ways. Email tazer19@gmail.com  or call 773-639-7812 for more info. No texts please.

are you buying what i'm selling? - frat party buddies

The Sigma Chi Halloween Bash is in a week, Jonny’s holding two tickets, and he has nobody to go with.

He had a somebody to go with, until that somebody decided Jonny’s student athlete life wasn’t worth  hanging around for. Their relationship was already tanking anyway; Jonny’s more upset about  potentially wasting a $40 ticket than that shit ending. Whatever.

Just A Spark by heartstrings  ⭐ - magical realism!

In a desperate attempt to hide his feelings from the object of his affections, Patrick accidentally drinks a love potion that causes the people around him to fall for him. Too bad it seems to work on everyone but Jonny.

do you know who you are? by liveinfury - frat bros

“Sure, Cap. I’ll try to keep it quiet.” Patrick winks at Jonny. “But be honest, you like the noises I make, huh?”

“What? Of course not!" Jonny sputters. "I’m not gay!”

(or where Jonny can't figure out why he feels so uneasy when Patrick brings guys home to their frat house).

The Great Desk Assembly Project - they were roommates

“I’m going to nail some shit,” he says. “Jonny, come watch me nail some shit.”

“We share a room, I don’t need to watch you nail anything else.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Pat says with a laugh in his voice. He reaches back  behind him and punches Jonny in the shoulder for good measure.

No, It's Not A Secret by SimoneClouseau ⭐ - always a girl Jonny 

Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your boyfriend. No way, no way. I think you need a new one.

Jehanne Toews is dating a loser. Sometimes it takes a ridiculous awesome young star on the Blackhawks to see the light.

good form - always a girl Pat!  ⭐ 

“Best head of your life?”

“Yes, he was better than you, you competitive motherfucker.” Hayds says it like it’s a joke, like it’s funny, like it’s not the single most devastating thing a girl could say to Pat.

“A hockey bro gave you the best head of your goddamn life? Am I in the fucking Upside Down?”

“Believe it, baby. Jonathan Toews: hockey bro and magical pussy-eating wizard.”

forever i'll try for you and i by staraflur - always girls Jon and Pat!

It’s extra great—whenever Jo’s losing, she always makes like their running point tally competition isn’t real. Tonight’s true to form: when Trish holds up three fingers and points at herself, then two before pointing at Jo, Jo actually scoffs as she pokes at a couple chicken breasts with the tongs, trying to find the best one.

remedial at love - jonny ‘i'm great at math but the math tutor's really hot so i'm gonna pretend i'm not' toews

There have been a lot of things Kaner’s done that could be considered suspect. He chose the  Backstreet Boys over Nsync for the Kane Dance-Off Championship when he was 15. He opted to go  to Disneyland instead of Disney World for his high school graduation present. He frosted his tips after  coming out in 12th grade because he thought that was like, the obvious thing to do until he realized  this was not, in actuality, the 90s.

But this one. Calling up ‘Jtoews’ and requesting tutelage in math when he was a fucking wiz at math  was -- the most highly suspect of all.

Drink yourself under, fuck yourself over by Mythisea

Jonathan Toews is the sophomore captain of the college hockey team. Patrick Kane recently quit hockey before coming to college.

Jonny thinks Patrick would be perfect on his wing. Patrick would rather be drinking. Jonny does not approve.

Make The Moves Up As I Go by agirlnamedfia - tutor!Jonny with a dash of angst and pining

Patrick has his first Econ 202 class on the second day of the spring semester. It doesn’t exactly go well.

how to make boys-next-door out of assholes series by bessyboo, thisissirius - textfic

Yo man, Sharpy's having a party tonight. You up for it or you gonna be a boring shit and study???

it's only you and me by crystaljules - graduation blues

"We're so fucking stupid."

Overdosed on Confidence by runphoebe ⭐ - fwb, internalized homophobia

“Someone could -,” Jonny starts, breaking off when Patrick ducks down to draw Jonny’s lips against his, kissing him fever-hot and wet and desperate. Jonny’d be embarrassed by how hungrily he responds, but he knows Pat’s into it, moaning unashamedly into Jonny’s mouth when he tightens a hand around Pat’s neck. “Someone could see,” he finally gets out, voice rough, when Patrick pulls back, as if Patrick’s supposed to believe that that’s any sort of protest.

Patrick licks his lips, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of them in that familiar way like when Patrick's got a particularly bad idea on his mind. “Guess you better be quick then, huh?” he says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows at Jonny. Jonny’s a second away from rolling his eyes and asking what he means when Patrick slithers off Jonny’s lap and onto his knees on the floor beneath Jonny’s table and - oh. Oh.

Silence Gives You Space by liveinfury - pining, misunderstandings

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“’Course not,” Patrick says. “I’m just letting you do your own thing.”

“My own thing?”

“Yeah, didn’t want to crowd your space,” Patrick blurts out. Fuck, he didn’t mean to actually say that.“You’re not…”

“Cool.”

tuck you in - getting together

“You sexiled again?" He smirks and stuffs down the fondness that rolls  through him at theway Jonny’s hair is rumpled and a little bit wavy.

Jonny sits up slowly, groaning. “Yeah. Fuck, this is the third time in a week  and a half.”

obvious from the start - radio DJs Pat and Jon!

It’s not like Patrick even likes radio, because he hasn’t really listened to  anything that’s not on his iPod or his Pandora stations in years, but when he notices the red and  white flyer advertising the student radio station on the ground, he picks it up with the  excuse that he’s trying to be environmentally friendly.When he played hockey they told Patrick that he was too small, too short to  be a hockeyplayer; that he’d never make it because of his size. Hockey is, was, his heart  and soul, and he’d put years and years of his life into the one thing he knew he was good  at; threw his very being into the best he could be to prove that he can do it, be the best,  even if he was small.

Patrick supposes maybe he'll find something else that he’s just as good at.

stupid college boys series by 19trash88 - Jonny is the cute guy from Econ class

Patrick’s not one to wax poetic about a penis, but if ever there was a reason to, Jonathan Toews’ cock would be at the top of the list.

Green Light by heartstrings - friends to lovers

Patrick knows two things: he likes sex and he likes Jonny. If Jonny's newly single there's no reason not to combine the two. Right?

Everybody Wants to Touch Some(body Paragraphs) by Kerfluffle  ⭐

Wherein Jonny writes the worst essay ever, and weirdness abounds.

Motivation by somethingnerdythiswaycomes  ⭐ - pwp

Only Jonny could keep working on his LIT-110 paper while Patrick was getting himself off next to him. Fuck, but Patrick loved him so much.

Muse series by by somethingnerdythiswaycomes

So Jonny had applied for every damn job he was qualified for, even the "life model" one TJ goaded him into.So Jonny had received an email the next day asking for his availability to come in for a session.So, as it turned out, it wasn’t some random chick that was going to draw him. It was some random dude.

So "life model" apparently meant "nude model."

You Love Me, I Love You Harder So by leyley09 - overly competitive boys on the hockey team

Patrick circles around him at center ice. “Jonathan, my team is going to kick your team’s ass so hard your parents will be embarrassed without even knowing why.”“I’m gonna give you a lesson in goal scoring you’ll never forget.”“Toews, you couldn’t give me a lesson in long distance spitting. Anything you can do, I can do better.”“Oh yeah?”“I can do anything better than you.”

Jonathan Toews is used to be being the best. He has zero clue what to do with competition.

Especially when the competition is cute.

middle ground by boodreaus - college road trip, friends to lovers

Jonny, Patrick, and an excellent adventure.

Who Knew by themistrollsin

Jonathan and Patrick meet after they're forced to go to a party by their best friends (Adam and Brent respectively).

Night Moves by heartstrings - meetcute

After a series of unfortunate drunk events that lead him from falling into a snowbank to being laughed at by the police, Jonny meets Patrick in an elevator.

Ignite My Fire, Object Of My Desire by ThalassicThedes ⭐- theater boys!!!

A good ol' fashioned College Au in which the college itself is hardly even mentioned. Just... make of this what you will.

absolute beginners by heartstrings, thundersquall

That time Jonny walked into a diner and accidentally got himself a temporary fake boyfriend.

Like A Classic - royalty!Jonny

So: due to a series of complicated and improbable events involving some sort of life debt and signed promise from two generations ago, it was decreed that Patrick had to marry the Crown Prince of Canada.

Captain Oblivious by wantstothrill - royalty!Pat

Why would Jonny care about the American royal family visiting his university? He's Canadian. He hasn't paid any attention to Prince Patrick since he was a teenager. He's more concerned with the very hot guy he's just run into, who's name also happens to be Patrick. What a coincidence.

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check out the high school AUs tag aaand the college AUs tag @ 1988rebloggedfic!