#high fiving you back i am SO conscious right now

[greyskies2002]

im high fiving you rn. awake buddies

💥didn't carlbot tell you to go to sleep

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

wildest dreams - m. murdock

a/n: i have literally not been inspired for two weeks then i was STRUCK with the urge to write this. guys. i am so proud of this one i am not even going to lie. this one is dedicated to @bunmurdock because i am literally always thinking about professor murdock.... i really hope you guys enjoy this one, because i enjoyed writing it :) warnings: SMUT! inappropriate dynamic, P in V smut, so much cursing, lots of inappropriate thoughts and pining, power dynamics, dirty talk, reader does an edible and is high for a small part of this fic, reader isn't stupid in this one! she is just horny! she is also deaf, and there is yapping of readers daddy issues word count: 6.3k likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 summary: you have a huge crush on your professor and spend many days desperate for him. pairing: professor!matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: wildest dreams - taylor swift (taylor's version) "i said, "no one has to know what we do"/his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"

You could treat him better than any of these other horny grad students.

Seriously, that is your only conscious thought watching this man move around the front of this lecture center. You’re not dumb, you know everyone sitting here wants him—Those who are attracted to men want to fuck him and those who aren’t seek his approval. But you are built different, you’re also lacking a major sense, besides, your brain runs ramped with disgusting thoughts about the man.

Today’s focus is on the man’s outfit. It’s his last class of the day, and it shows. His clothes are a bit more wrinkled, and his hair is messier than it had been when he started the day. But most importantly, his jacket is thrown on the back of his chair, meaning you have a phenomenal view of his torso.

He wears a white button down, with the cuffs of the arms rolled up to just below his elbows, the bottom of the shirt tucked into the waistline of his pants. The shirt is tight, maybe a little too tight, especially around the arms. Maybe it’s because he works out. Or at least, you assume he works out.

That brings us to his tie. Oh, his tie. It’s nothing special—a pure black tie, just hanging from his neck. Your mind wanders. It starts at the dissection of a key court case in the subject of minimum wage, but from there, it starts drifting to his tie.

You think about the tie moving back and forth above you as he thrusts into you, brushing against your face, pulling on it to bring him closer. You think about that soft half chuckle he does, before he says something dirty like—

“Did you have something to add?” His voice right in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Fuck. You were not paying attention.

“Uh, No, Professor..” Your face is a deep red, embarrassed. You wish you could take off your hearing aids to stop listening to all the giggling from around you, from peers who are thrilled that Professor Murdock’s little (not-so) secret admirer got called out for her staring.

“Hm,” he taps the table in front of you, “Then I want you paying attention.” He says, before going back to his lecture. You could die right there. Everyone is laughing at you. He embarrassed you.

Okay, so you have no proof that he’s ever wanted you in the way that you’ve been so god damn desperate for him, but it’s still crushing that he’d single you out in that way. That maybe while you were increasingly needy for him, he found you fucking annoying, in such a way that he felt the need to embarrass you in front of your peers.

You want to melt—Melt into a puddle with just your boots and your hearing aids left behind so you never have to face him ever again. That’s why you’re so relieved when he dismisses class right on time (Well, right on time for him. He always ends class five minutes early to leave room for questions) and you quickly gather your things.

Because of the sheer level of embarrassment he has caused you, the other students in the class who want him try to flock to him, sensing that you no longer have the confidence to engage with him—But your desire is still there, as you messily shove your things into your backpack. You turn when you’re finished, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your face is still flushed, part because you’re embarrassed, part because you are out of breath from rushing. But you are faced with the view of your professor, all alone. Your breath hitches when his hand moves up to the top of his tie, as he smooths it out, running his fingers down the fabric.

“I read your essay on the expectations of the courts and law versus the realities of it. I loved it. The argument using Gideon versus Wainwright to justify the existence of the right to counsel as a civil right and not a liberty was fascinating, especially considering your other arguments about how race, class and gender play into those realities. Well done. I thought it was some of your best work.”

Your face is flushed for a new reason now. Wasn’t this the same man who was mad at you for not paying attention?

“I thought so too.” You confess, and he just smiles. He loves that you’re confident in your work. You’ll make a great lawyer one day.

“Oh, and,” He digs through his leather satchel to pull out some notes, running his finger over the folder tab to make sure he has the right folder, “Here are the printed copy of our notes from the last few lectures.” It’s part of your accommodations that professors give you a copy.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smile gently, reaching out to take the papers. Your hands meet and as you grip the notes, the tips of your fingers just barely brush against his. Neither of you say anything. Neither of you let go.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He starts, “But you’re bright—Smarter than most of your professors, I bet. And I don’t want you to fall behind.” He says softly, and without saying it, you know he’s worried because of your hearing. He was disabled in law school once upon a time, and he recognizes your potential.

“It’s okay.” You say softly, softer than your voice usually is. “I get it, really. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He says gently, letting go of the papers now. As you clutch them close to your chest, his hand goes back up to mess with his tie again. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how wild it drives you? He must. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you on Thursday.” You agree, and that’s when you leave the classroom.

As the door closes behind you, he listens intently. He hears your nervous heartbeat, could practically feel the heat radiating off you. But he knows your routine by now. You’re about to start playing music, and he likes knowing what sort of mood you’re in as you leave his class.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears the opening notes of that new Hozier song, ‘Too Sweet’.

• • •

You are a straight A student. You study days in advance for exams, you write elaborate study guides and most of all, you do not miss class, unless you are dying (no, seriously, the last time you missed class you were rushed to the hospital, sick with pneumonia after a big exam, which you aced). So, when you’re not in Matt’s class on Thursday, he tries not to panic.

You’re a grown woman, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have an attendance policy, having told the class on syllabus day that he trusted them to know when to come to class and when they should go lay in the sun or stay home with a bad cold.

But you once came to class doped up on cold medicine with a mask on, just because you didn’t want to miss any important information. He heard it before you got to class, so he faked a family emergency to cancel class early that day. He could hear your rattled sigh of relief as the other students flooded out.

And he knows for a fact you didn’t show up today because of how fucking loud you are; You don’t mean to be, but he can hear the light buzzing of your hearing aids, and you wear these big work boots that stomp even when you’re trying to step lightly. And he heard neither buzzing nor stomps today.

Oh, your boots. He’s spent years with everything being too loud, but he just can’t help but think about the boots—What color were they? What were their texture? He has this fantasy that lives at the very back of his mind of putting you in heels, heels too big for anyone let alone a girl who only wears clunky work boots, that way he would have to help you, take care of you, and it is a fantasy that will probably live at the back of his mind until he dies.

Sure, he’d probably get married, settle down with someone his age and never worry if she might be dissatisfied with an older man, and she’ll be quiet. No hearing aids, no big boots. They’ll have kids, they’ll be happy together. He’ll still go to you when he can’t sleep, and no one will ever know.

Wait, what was he doing? Oh, right. You weren’t in class today.

His fingers move over the keyboard to look you up in the system. He clicks on the audio assistant to read him your information. It reads out your first and last name, middle initial, then your grade in his class (A+), your accommodations (Notes, time and a half, things like that), your birthday, and—

Wait, he takes a moment, and his fingers go over to his braille calendar, realizing that you’re taking a day off because it’s your birthday. A laugh escapes his lips, because how silly was he being?

His fingers move again to find your email address. He debates for a moment before adding the subject line, “Absence Today.” Then, he erases it and changes it to, “Class Today”, hoping you wouldn’t freak out before reading the email.

And just for a moment, he lets himself dream. He writes the following email to you,

“Hey, sweetheart—

Happy Birthday. I’m so happy you’re taking a break, you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. Are you doing something fun for it? Going out and getting wasted? Hooking up with some college guy who couldn’t fuck you properly?

If I could, my birthday gift to you would be a day spent with my face buried between your pretty thighs, although that might be a birthday gift to me and not to you. I’ve always been a selfish man, and you seem to be something I am entirely selfish about. I want your hands tangled in my hair, tugging on it as I taste you. I want you all to myself. I didn’t hear the buzzing of your hearing aids or the clunking of your boots, and I felt this striking yearning.

I can’t stand being around you without having you. It’s torture.

Happy Birthday,

Matthew.’

He thinks about it for a minute, before completely erasing the email, and sending you this one instead:

‘Missed you in class today! We went over the reading for Chapter Seven. Happy Birthday! Professor M’

He sends it, and then rubs his face, a long sigh leaving his lips. He is completely enamored by you, and it is so unfair.  You’d be in class on Monday, he told himself. He’d see you then, and it would be like getting his fix of you.

Then, he turns to the distraction of trying to grade papers. It won’t work. He’ll still have you on his mind all day, and there will be no relief in sleeping. Hopefully he’ll dream of that long day between your thighs.

• • •

Truth be told, you were not drinking and fucking some random guy when Matt emails you. You were cuddled up in bed, giggling and eating snacks, so many snacks, because, well, you took an edible with a bunch of your friends and now are high out of your mind.

Some animated shows are on in the background, and when your phone buzzes, you pick it up and almost melt when you see the email from your favorite professor. You start giggling like a kid, your fingers clutching your phone as you read the email over and over again.

One friend looks up to you from her place on your floor and asks, “Are you alright?”

You don’t answer at first, but then you nod, and pull your blanket close, imagining Matt’s arms around you. Your brain paints you a picture of him holding you against his chest and gently playing with your hair.

It’s a nice fantasy.

• • •

For being a law student, you really fucking hate it sometimes. Okay, that’s not true. You love being a law student and are so excited to go out into the world and make that difference. But you’d be lying if you don’t sort of contemplate dropping out and getting a sugar daddy over certain assignments.

Maybe Matt is in the market. Then you shake your head to get the thought out of there, before opening your laptop to check your professor’s office hours. The one that assigned this assignment is an old bat who does not have office hours except for during your other classes on Fridays.

Then, you look at Matt’s office hours. He has office hours right now. You click the pen in your hand a few times, thinking. Contemplating. Would he want to see you at this point? Would you be able to control yourself?

You give the question you’re working on one more time before you lean down and grab your boots, starting to lace them up. Then, you pack up your bag, heart beating nervously over what—Asking him for help with an assignment?

You make it all the way across campus, the whole time worried about if you’ll walk in on your professor with some other girl. You almost laugh at that thought, because you think you’re silly for how dramatic you are about the man.

You stand down the hallway from his office for a few minutes, just contemplating. You could just turn around and not at all open the possibility of being around him, and everything stays the same. Nothing changes, and your relationship with your professor maintains it’s strictly professional relationship.

You walk towards the door, knocking on it before holding your breath.

“Come on in,” He calls from behind the door. Now or never. You open the door, and smile in his direction.

“Hey, professor,” You greet, a soft smile on your face. His tie is loose around his neck. You blink away whatever daydream your brain wants to dive headfirst into.

“Hey,” He greets, “I don’t think you have any assignments due, so what’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. As you think about it, you realize that you do not need help with an assignment.

“This is going to sound like a lie. But I had trouble with this assignment earlier, and suddenly I walked in here and realized I knew exactly what I was doing. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You explain, but you make no attempt to turn around and leave.

“Let me guess,” He starts, gauging by what year and academic proficiency you’re at, “Professor Reid’s estate planning class? That assignment about the will and testament of an old lady with a marriage less than 90 days and estranged kids?”

You groan and take a seat in one of the chairs in his office. He laughs in response, shaking his head.

“That old bat.” You roll your eyes. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to cheat on your final.” He tells you, and you give him a perplexed look.

“What?”

“Well, for the final, there’ll be a question about a super niche argument on inheritance. Just cheat on it.”

“You’re a professor, telling me to cheat?”

“I cheated on it,” He shrugs. You suddenly remember that he used to go to school here and has taken all the classes you’re struggling with right now.

“You’re being unprofessional.” You tell him, and he smiles again. Your heart skips a beat, and somehow, his smile grows. As if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on you. As if this is all a game he likes to play with you, his eager and willing participant.

“Okay, forget that I told you to cheat on Reid’s exam. We have to talk about something, it would be awkward to just sit here in silence. Uh, what did you major in in undergrad?”

“English. I minored in Disability studies.”

“So why Law?” He asks curiously, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, before resting them on his desk. Jesus Christ.

“I’m tired of being poor.” The answer slips out before you can really stop yourself. He laughs again, and something in you stirs. As if making him laugh is the newest way you feel good about yourself. How twisted is that? “I’m being serious!” You laugh too, unable to contain it.

“I’m sure,” he promises, “I grew up poor too, I was sick of it too. But if you’re going to be a lawyer—”

“You need to have respect for the law and the people taken advantage by it,” You finish, “I get that, really, I do. And I want to help people. I want to go into divorce law and help all the poor and battered women like—” You’re forgetting yourself. You’re forgetting that this isn’t a date and that this man is your professor.

“Like..?” He prods you to finish, curious. He is on the edge of his seat about you. This is more than he has gotten of you in the past few weeks you’ve been taking his class.

“Like my mom.” You finish suddenly looking for something to do with your hands. Anything, really. “But the check that comes with it isn’t exactly deterring me, you know?”

“I get that,” he says earnestly, “I was an orphan, one of those dirty scrappy ones you feel bad for,” he does that half chuckle that makes you want to go over there and kiss him. “Never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was young. So, I get it. Being poor and wanting to do better for yourself. For your parent who sacrificed for you.”

But it clicks for him, the hidden meaning behind your ambitions. You have daddy issues, and he can tell that’s part of your crush on him. Though, he’ll never say it to you. He’ll let it be something unspoken between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you do get it.” You smile softly. But this is dangerous. So so dangerous. The two of you are dancing this dangerous line—Well, more like you’re damn well dancing clear over the line and ignoring it. But you don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you don’t want to stop it.

“Well, uh, maybe you could finish that assignment while we’re here.” He clears his throat, straightening his tie and you try to connect the wires in your brain to focus on the assignment. You pull it out of your bag and place it on his desk, smoothing it out a bit. Matt gets up and starts to wander around the office, and you look at him curiously. “I think better when I can move around.”

You should’ve known that much, you have stared at him doing lectures, wandering from end to end of the rows and rows in the classroom.

“Yeah, totally,” You nod, focusing on the assignment. It’s on paper, the old bat refuses to use online assignments. You’re practically flying through the assignment, and it’s at the point where you are forgetting your company. In fact, you really don’t notice him.. Until you lean back and stretch, jumping when you realize that Matt has taken a spot right behind you, his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning forward. You’re practically leant up against him.

“See? Was that so hard?” Your face flushes, his voice right next to your ear. He has to know; he has to know how you’re affecting him. You tilt your head a bit, and your eyes are level with his chin. His stubble moves as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t smell much like anything… except the faintest hint of clean sheets and this slight scent of mahogany. It would go perfect with a whiff of whiskey.

“No,” you say quietly, and he almost shudders at the feeling of your warm breath against his cheek. “Not at all, Prof—”

“Call me Matt.” It’s almost begging. You’re kind of into it, but that’s not surprising given how incredibly attractive you find him.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He has reduced you to one-word answers. The two of you stay quiet for a while. You’re unsure what to say. Matt is contemplating his options. Anyone could walk in on the two of you like this. The door isn’t locked, and you want to bring this up, but the words die out in your throat. His head tilts a bit towards you, and you get a glimpse at those perfect lips of his.

“You know—” He starts, but before he can get any farther, you lean in and kiss him. You kiss him intensely, your hand on his cheek, and for once, you are not filled with regret at a bad decision. He doesn’t react at first, and for just a second, you’re nervous.

Then, He kisses you back, letting out this deep hum as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head to get deeper into your mouth, and his hands make their way down to your hips. He focuses for a second, before wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and sitting you on his desk.

His hands trail down as the pair of you kiss, landing on your thighs. His fingers rub back and forth, and you gasp when he squeezes your thighs. He grins and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your clunky boots hit against his desk and he practically growls at the sound. He pulls away, his teeth biting your bottom lip as he does.

You’re completely out of breath, and so is he. He stumbles back a bit, his lips swollen and bright pink from kissing you. He wipes his mouth as he pants, and inhales deeply. You run your fingers through your hair, brushing the hair that has fallen onto your face.

“We..” he mumbled gently, running his hand over his chin. “Holy shit, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid—”

“Listen,” he goes over to you and brushes the hair from your face, “That was.. it was phenomenal, but someone could’ve walked in on that, and.. Fuck, if we do that again, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” he confesses, his hands on your cheeks.

“When I was staring off into space last week, I was thinking about your tie.” You tell him, your hands are finding the base of it now. He tilts his head, curiously.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Was daydreaming about it brushing against my face as you fuck me.” You could swear his face is red. You grin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking the tie from you and bringing the tie up to brush against your cheeks, “Like that?” he teases, and you laugh back. Dick.

“Mhm,” You giggle, and your hands find his, wrangling the tie out of his hands, and tugging on it, before bringing him in for another kiss. He inhales deeply as he kisses you, taking the taste of you in for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m serious, sweetheart, this is dangerous.”

“Sweetheart?” You grin. He takes your chin and grips it between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey. Pay attention.” He says, and you want to argue that saying things in that low gravely tone will not help you pay attention, but you can tell he’s serious. That he wants your attention focused on him, this is important. “Listen. I like you. I like you a lot, but we have to be careful if we want any of this to go further. We have to be subtle and watch our steps.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You promise, “Okay, we should be careful.” He smiles gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Good pup.” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I like ‘pup’.” You like sweetheart too, but your stomach flips when he calls you pup.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He grins. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you said we have to be careful.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my address and you can come over.” He shrugs. “I know how badly I need you, I can only imagine how you feel.” He hums, and you grin.

“Okay, Here, give me your phone.” Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. You put your number in with your name, sending yourself a quick text before handing the phone back to him. “There. Send it to me.” He steps back so you can hop off the desk, before putting your homework back in your bag.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, he grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you close, just to kiss you again.

• • •

Your hands are shaking as you drive over to Matt’s apartment. You’re so full of desire for him, and you take a second after parking the car to adjust your hair and makeup. Luckily you had no plans with your friends so it’s not like you’re hiding anything from anyone.

Are you about to sleep with the professor you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester? Hopefully. You take a quick glance down to the apartment number he sent you before climbing out of the car, locking it behind you.

Then, you manage your way through the building, finding yourself in front of his door for the second time tonight. You hesitate. Though, you’re not sure why. Well, maybe you do. Maybe you’re terrified that this is going to be bad. Or maybe that you’re scared you’ll be bad, and he’ll hate you.

Maybe you just need to get over yourself. Although, you can’t really do much more convincing because Matt swings open the door and grins at you. You almost die at the sight of him. His tie is gone, and his shirt is unbuttoned by three buttons.

“You’re so hot,” You blurt out as you hand him a cheap bottle of wine you picked up on the way here.

“You’re cute,” he hums, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the apartment, leaving you giggling as he closes the door behind you. You look around his apartment, your eyes catching on the giant billboard. You’re standing in front of the window when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips gently kiss your neck, up and down, biting your shoulder gently. “Enamored by the billboard, sweetheart?”

“Your windows are so big, probably a lot of light in here during the day.” You say softly, and he smiles against your neck.

“Mhm, one day, I’ll fuck you against those windows—”

“Matt,” You groan, but he just shushes you and kisses your neck again.

“I know, pup,” He hums, “But don’t worry, I’ll show you a very nice time, hear all those pretty noises you can make for me.” You blush, turning to say something to him but he wraps his arms around your waist again, before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his room. You’re laughing all the way there, before throwing you onto the bed.

“Mean.” You accuse, but he shrugs.

“You’ll get over it, sweetheart, I promise.” He hums, and you sit up on his bed. He stands between your legs, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hands finding your cheeks again. He kisses you like this for a few minutes, before slowly kneeling in front of you, never breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss. You pull away from the kiss to study him. He tilts his head, his hands finding your thighs to rub them again as he did in the office. “What?” he asks gently.

“I spent all those lectures only being able to study you from a far.. Just let me really look at you for a while..” You request. He grins gently as your fingers run over his stubble again. Your hands move up to his glasses. “Can I take these off?” You request, tilting your head.

Matt hesitates, just for a second. He’s not really used to it, to someone truly wanting to see him, every part of him. But he trusts you, wants you to see him. So he nods, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ as you pull off those circular red glasses, gently folding them and setting them down somewhere safe.

Then, you take a good, long look at his eyes. They’re this deep brown, almost black, irises that are drop dead gorgeous. The skin around his eyes is scarred, but the scars are old, yet, you rub your thumb gently against that scarred skin. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his eyes, first the left one, then the right one.

He leans up and kisses you after that, his hands slowly making their way down your legs. Your hands find his buttons of his shirt starting to undo them. He pulls away from the kiss, before slipping off his button up, throwing it away somewhere in the room. Your eyes drift down to these scars on his collarbones, and your fingers run over them. Then, you notice other scars on his skin, and your hands find those too.

“Your boots are so loud,” he hums, and you’re taken back by it.

“What?”

“Your boots.” He hums, “I hear you stomping around with these things on, they’re.. Like a bell, you know? I like knowing you’re around.” His fingers go down to the laces of your left boot, slowly untying them. Then, he does the same with the right boot.

He pulls off your boots, before running his fingers over your socks.

“They’re multicolored. Bright and patterned.” You confess, and he grins, before pulling them off. Then, he stops, realizing you have another pair of socks on. He blinks, before starting to laugh.

“You have two pairs of socks on?” he chuckles, your face flushing.

“My boots are just a little too big!” You tell him, and he laughs, resting his head against your thigh. He finishes taking your socks off, before working on the buttons of your jeans. When he finally gets those undone, he pulls off your pants, throwing them somewhere close to his now abandoned shirt. His hand comes up to rub you through your panties, and he lets out a scoff as he does.

“So wet for me, pup..” He mumbles, coming up to gently kiss your cheeks and then your jaw, as you whine. “I know, baby, I know,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently. You whine gently at the feeling, gripping his wrist. He chuckles softly, kissing you to shut you up a bit.

He pulls his hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull off your tee shirt, throwing it wherever. He starts to kiss you as you fiddle with the buttons of his pants and pull them off, letting him step out of the before he casts them away.

You grin into the kiss, before he pulls away.

“What? What’s got you so giddy, pup?” he asks, a grin on his face too.

“Briefs,” You hum, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Thinking about your professor’s underwear?” He teases, leaning in to bite your neck. “Dirty, dirty girl.” He grins, and you swat at his shoulder, which causes him to laugh. He likes having fun with you, even if it’s not inherently sexual.

His hands come up to run gently over your skin, trailing from your hands up to your shoulders, and then all the way to your ears, where his fingers gently run over your hearing aids. It’s a nice gesture, really, but as soon as his fingers brush over your hearing aids, you immediately retract, the feedback shooting through your skull, uncomfortably.

“Ow—” You cringe, leaning your head back to try and get away from his fingers. He cringes, hearing the feedback, not as badly as you do but knowing it’s there and that you’re in pain pains him.

“I’m sorry,” he coos softly, his fingers moving down to cup your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I hadn’t realized—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You hum, tilting your head to kiss his palm gently. “It happens, It’s why you should never touch them while I have them on.” You shrug. He leans down and kisses your stomach a bit, before going back to kiss you again, deepening the kiss a bit before roughly shoving you back on the bed. You giggle as he climbs on top of you, caging you in between his legs, as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. He kisses you with passion and need, and it drives you entirely too wild. As he pulls away, one hand comes up to grip your chin, before he leans down with his head against yours.

“Want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” He asks gently, his voice sweet as honey as he talks so obscenely to you. You whine, finally getting what you want after weeks and months of waiting. He just smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, puppy, you gotta say it to me.” He requests.

“Yes, I want you..” You groan, bucking your hips a bit at the thought of him finally fucking you.

“Want me to do what?” he asks, innocently.

“Want you to fuck me, please..” You request, and this finally seems to satisfy him. His hand comes down to unhook your bra, throwing it behind him with the rest of your clothes, before his lips begin to travel downwards, kissing down your jaw and neck, before he’s kissing the valley of your breasts, his hand going down to rub your clit again.

He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wetness soaking through your underwear and listening to your moans. His hands begin to work to take off your panties, and as soon as those are gone, your hands come up to his briefs, wanting them gone.

“Off, off, off—” You huff, and he laughs as he slips them off. Then, he reaches over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, but you grab his hand, shaking your head, “No, no—I’m on the pill, promise.”

“You sure?” He asks gently, and you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sure.” You nod, and then you’re kissing him again, your hand going down to stroke his cock, and he gasps into the kiss, before chuckling. He pulls away to mutter out to you--

“Needy girl,” he purrs, before moving to kiss you again. As you’re kissing, he slips his cock into you, and you moan into the kiss, tensing at the feeling, “Relax for me, pup.. So fucking tight for me.” He groans, his hand coming down to swat your thigh. “Relax.” He tells you, his voice sterner this time.

You nod, trying to form a more conscious thought than the pure bliss you feel, your hands wrapping around his neck, scratching down his back a bit. He groans softly, as he starts to slowly thrust into you. He is using every ounce of self-control he has, resisting the urge to absolutely violate you.

But he’s trying to be gentle, be nice.

“Faster,” You gasp out, your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He does that half chuckle, and it makes you whine as he begins to speed up.

“Beautiful little pup..” he says lowly, “Been staring at me.. Wanting your professor so badly these past few weeks, dirty little thing,” he hums, “Fuck, so.. fuck..” Your legs are beginning to shake the longer and harder he thrusts into you. “So fucking good for me..” You whine into his lips as they crash into yours, one hand going down to rub your clit gently, the stimulation too much for someone who hasn’t had sex this good, ever, but especially because you haven’t had sex at all in the past.. well, six or more months.

“Matty, ‘m..” You can barely get the words out as he fucks you harder,

“I know baby, come on, cum for me, pup,” he coos, his thrusts nor rubbing slowing down, maintaining his pace. Within a minute, you’re coming with loud moans into his ears, and he’s following suit shortly after, coming deep inside you.

But for the few minutes after the two of you finish, he continues his thrusting, relishing in the pretty moans and the sound of his deep thrusts into you. Eventually, he slows down, remaining deep inside of you. He pulls you close, kissing you deeply before flipping the pair of you over, and holding your legs close to stay buried deep inside of you.

For a few minutes, there are no words spoken, just deep, frantic pants and sweaty skin against each other.

“You know, that was as good as I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.” You pant, “Better, even..” He laughs and nods.

“Me too..” he kisses you softly. “Let me take you out somewhere.”

“I thought we had to be careful..”

“We’ll go away somewhere then. Just the two of us for the weekend. I need to be with you, I can’t get enough of you now that I’ve had a taste.. Besides, I haven’t even eaten you out. Now that, that is going to be fun.” He grins, and you swat his arm.

“Evil, mean man!” You gasp, and he just laughs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry, pup, let me make it up to you,” he hums.

“How?”

“Calling you pup a few times, ordering Thai food and teaching you how to suck me off?”

“I know how to suck you off,” You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, leaning in to kiss him. Then, lips still against yours, he whispers, “Prove it, pretty puppy.”

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline WIP Wednesday

This is my humble contribution to this wip Weds! It's a tiny little snippert from the next chapter of Speed Dating, which has been sitting untouched for way too long. Genuinely hoping this might give me the will to keep going because I am this 🤏 close to the finish line (before editing starts and the finish line gets away from me again but shhhh, we're not going there yet).

--

She doesn't see Elijah again for the next two days. Whatever he's in town for, he either glides around the apartment like a ghost or their schedules are totally at odds. If not for the extravagantly fancy woolen overcoat by the door and what she has quickly learned is a very particular brand of moodiness for Klaus, she would've thought he'd already left.

It's probably for the best, considering the horror of that first meeting, but curiosity is an unscratchable itch. Elijah has intrigued her for years, more so than any of Klaus’ other siblings. Putting a face - well, a little more than a face, really - to the person is a given, but she can't help the desire to dig deeper. It’s in her nature to be nosy. About him, about Klaus, about the whole family. 

Despite the fact she's lived with one and been friends with another for years, the Mikaelsons remain a mystery to her. The more she knows, the more confusing it gets. Nothing about them seems to make much sense, and Caroline hasn't even decided if that's a super-rich, children of the 1% thing, or if the Mikaelsons are especially wacky even among their peers.

After two days, though, she's just about lost hope of bumping into Elijah again. She doubts he'll be staying for much longer, especially with Klaus' cordial show of hospitality. Not that Elijah seemed bothered - being rude to siblings for no apparent reason seems to be one of those things that are normal by Mikaelson standard. It's just how they operate.

She's just back from a shift at the hospital, idly scrolling through her Instagram while she waits for the microwave to deliver her sad leftover dinner. Bitterly, she realizes it has been months since she last updated her feed. Her last photo is with Tyler, for crying out loud. Should she even keep it there? What's the etiquette for when you break up with someone for no earth-shattering reasons, the relationship just fizzling out and running its course? Is it rude to delete all evidence of him from her social media records? Is it expected? Will he be upset? Has he deleted her from his social media? 

In fact, now that she thinks about it... Is Tyler even seeing anyone?

"Huh," she mumbles to herself, fully internalizing in that second how truly messy her life has become that she hasn't even cyber-stalked her ex to know what he's been up to since they broke up. That's a whole new level of rock bottom unlocked, right there.

"Miss Forbes?"

Caroline nearly drops her phone when she looks up to find Elijah standing by the kitchen door. She swears to God the man is unnaturally feline; she didn't even hear him approach.

Unlike in their first encounter, he's now fully clothed and, unsurprisingly, he looks just as good as he did without a stitch on. Maybe better. His suit looks as though it was sewn directly onto his body by an Italian master tailor. The range of that man.

"Hey!" She cringes at her high pitch, standing up straight. 

His smile is affable as he steps further into the kitchen. "Do I interrupt?"

"What? No. I was just scrolling."

Caroline feels suddenly very self-conscious of just how crazy frumpy she must look standing in front of Elijah. The man is a poster boy for wellness and prosperity, while she is... Well. Not.

Suffice to say she's wearing a Timberwolves t-shirt from her long-gone cheerleading days in high school with at least five visible holes on it.

"I've been meaning to apologize for that horrid incident the other day," he starts. Caroline wouldn’t have brought the incident up, assuming he would rather forget it ever happened, but if it causes him any measure of discomfort to have been butt naked in front of a complete stranger, he does not show, which - now that she thinks about, is something else that feels very Mikaelson-esque. They do all seem to be incredibly comfy in their own skins. "Niklaus warned me that you would be home soon, but my despair for a proper shower was stronger than caution. I should've been more careful."

"You don't have to apologize. It's fine. It was nothing." That would've been a good place to stop. A very mature and dignified let's leave it at that and never mention it again. But her stupid mouth just keeps going. "I see naked people all the time at the hospital. It's totally unremarkable." Elijah's eyebrows inch upwards into a mildly curious expression. "I don't mean that you are unremarkable!" she corrects, and then, getting immediately horrified at the implications, adds, "You're not - I mean, you're ok, you're - obviously. Not that I was looking, I wasn’t - I just mean - You know what? I'm just gonna shut up now." She snaps her lips sealed, half-wishing that a hole would open underneath her feet and suck her into the magma of the earth.

[poppadom0912]

Money, Money, Money

Characters: Connor Rhodes x Reader, Maggie, Will

Warnings: Canon-typical injuries, overbearing/toxic parents, lots of violence, pregnancy.

Summary: Having money doesn't entitle you to anything. Why don't your parents understand that?

A/N: Haven't written for Connor in a lonnnggg time so here I am. I have mixed feelings about this but enjoyyyy. Posting this today in commemoration of my twin cousins turning one.

*****

Today was just so jam-packed in the ED that it was ridiculous.

One minute, your treating a woman whose half conscious from a car accident and the next your being handed a John Doe who is better off dead than hooked to a bunch of expensive machines.

You were always on your feet, not even having a second to yourself to sit down on a chair at the nurses station. It also really didn't help that Med had been handed a fresh new bunch of students who were all around the place, not knowing what they were doing.

Ripping off your gloves you deeply exhaled, closing your eyes as you stood in the middle of the ED. Everything around you was still a mess but all you needed was two minutes to collect yourself before-

"Doctor Rhodes, Doctor Y/L/N, you're on!" Maggie shouted from across the emergency room, sending you her most apologetic smile while she shrugged, having no control over what happened which you knew and definitely didn't blame her for.

Hastily grabbing what felt like your millionth pair of latex gloves, you assisted the paramedics and Connor wheeling the stretcher into a treatment bay, transferring on his count.

Everything was as it usually was, working together to stabilise the patient who was only half alert. From a mile away, you could smell the stench of alcohol, letting everyone know of what led the man to his current situation. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the gurney, allowing a few nurses and orderlies wheel the now unconscious man for an mri.

Aggressively, you ripped of your gloves, chucking it into the bin, Connor following suit, chuckling at your sour face. The only good thing you had going for you right now was having a five minute lie in with your fiance early this morning. Five minutes wasn't long at all but it was all you and peanut needed to fuel you for the long 24-hour shift ahead of you.

Right, you still had another 18 hours left till you could go home. Just flipping perfect.

You felt like collapsing, your body exhausted but the sickly people of Chicago relied on you. With a quick departing kiss on the forehead, squeezing your hand several times, you watched with warmness in your chest as your very attractive man ran off in those very nice black scrubs.

*****

It was an honest to god miracle that everything slowed down. You finally got to sit down, even managing to have a quick snack before checking in on patients. There was also the regular conversation over your baby, all the doctors and nurses betting on the gender while your closest friends pretended they weren't up for potential godparents.

You decided to do a quick round, going around to see if your patients were up and moving, if not then you'd offer your service somewhere it was needed.

At some point during the day, you lost track of how many people came in meaning you forgot who had what and who they were. With a tablet in hand, you scrolled through the man's chart, humming to yourself as you familiarised yourself with both his medical history and his current state, remembering what happened when you saw his blood alcohol levels.

What you failed to notice, too busy reading, was the man who you now know was called Nick was slowly coming to. Not a peep came out of him, blinking as he looked around the room, you being the last thing he noticed.

It all happened so fast from what you could recollect. All of a sudden, he sat up, not even groaning in pain from the several injuries he sustained while drunk and high.

"Nick, I'm a doctor, your in a hospital. No one's going to hurt you." You tried assuring him, jumping back when he lurched forward, forcing himself to stand, his unstable legs holding all of his weight. "You hurt yourself okay? You mind getting back into the bed?"

Despite your gentle and understanding tone, your bedside manner being top notch, Nick didn't even consider listening to you. You could almost see the flaming red flash across his eyes but before you could do anything, he came towards you.

With such a fury, his hand gripped your neck tightly, pushing you against the medicine cupboard that only this room had. Repeatedly, he pushed you into the glass door which shattered upon impact.

Gasping, you tried kicking your feet out but unfortunately for you, your short stature was not helping you were held inches above the ground. Scratching at his hand, your nails digging into his skin, he wouldn't let go.

You were incoherent, not even managing to shout or scream from the extreme pressure against your throat. Inhaling through your nose, you screwed your eyes shut when you saw a blurry fist flying towards you.

Everything was happening so fast but all of a sudden, you could breathe, air entering your lungs like a tsunami but before you could recollect yourself, not even letting your brain register that you were dropped to the floor, you were once again picked up and smashed against the sliding glass doors.

The glass broke on impact, shattering into small shards almost like crystals. Your cries were broken, the punches rolling one after the other.

*****

After having a quick surgery consult, assuring a patient that this surgery would happen, Connor was content. It was finally his lunch and he wasn't needed anywhere which meant that he could see his beautiful fiancée. Hopefully, you could spare a few minutes and he could check up on you and his baby.

The ED was much more quiet, almost too quiet in comparison to the chaos it was drowning in over an hour ago. Whistling, he leaned his arms against the nurses desk, giving Maggie his most dashing smile that all the girls of Chicago swooned over.

"Your fiancée is in six, give her five minutes." She said without taking her eyes off her brick, knowing exactly what the surgeon wanted without him even having to ask.

Before Connor could thank the charge nurse, he was interrupted by the deafening sound of glass shattering, his head whipping around to the source of the sound.

It was when it flashed in his mind that the room with the now shattered door was treatment six that Connor ran towards the mess.

Will and Ethan also came running forward, the two of them pulling Nick away from you while Connor shielded you as best as he could from any further harm.

"Y/N? Honey, you with me?" Connor asked, taking note of your fluttering eyelids and your cracking groan. He held you in his arms, feeling around the back of your head, his fingers coated in your blood.

Lifting you onto a gurney without any help, you were wheeled into a separate treatment room, Connor not once leaving your side and no one tried to pry him away knowing that it would only further anger him.

"Connor?" You tried calling out, struggling to keep your eyes open. "The baby..."

"Is fine, wasn't hurt at all." Connor sighed in relief, handing back the ultrasound wand to a nurse once he was happy with the sight of your baby who was alive and kicking.

Will nodded at Connor, letting him know everything that he needed. Picking up the railing on the side of the gurney, Connor wasn't leaving your side, wheeling wheel you up for an mri.

"You're going to be just fine."

*****

Coming to was more painful than you wanted it to be but because of the growing life inside your womb, you could only take so much medication which you knew and understood but you couldn't help curse out whoever was up there watching everything.

"The baby?" Was the first thing that came out. Your voice was hoarse, your throat aching as it strained from each syllable.

"Is alive and kicking." Connor nodded with a tight-lipped smile, helping you drink some water. "The lack of oxygen only hurt you, not peanut."

"Good, that's good." You closed your eyes, nodding in relief that no harm came to your baby because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if they were hurt.

"You scared me." Connor whispered, enveloping your hand in both of his, not bothered by how cold you felt. "Don't ever do that again."

"I can't make any promises." You replied with remorse, wanting nothing more than to promise him but medicine was unpredictable, especially when mixed with drugs and alcohol. "I'll try my best though."

"And that's all I ask for." Connor smiled, pressing several kisses on your knuckles.

"Uh, you've got a few visitors anxiously waiting for you outside, what do you want me to do with them?" Your fiance asked, chuckling as he remembered the gaggle of doctors waiting outside in anticipation. They were all pretending to work but found themselves staring at the treatment room you were in.

But before you could answer with a yes, wanting nothing more than to see your friends, you cut off by the loud shout coming from outside the room, at the entrance of the ED. Unfortunately for you, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

"Where is my daughter?!" The voice near screamed, oozing with so much urgency that it made you feel sick. It was all so fake that even a stranger could see it.

You could only hear just how much of a commotion was being created outside your room, you and Connor shared a knowing glance, both of your mirroring the others annoyance.

Maggie's desperate attempts of steering the newcomers away from your room was useless. The doors and curtains were pulled opened and you were met with the apologetic faces of your friends and the furious faces of your parents.

"Oh my God, what happened to your face?!" Your mother said in alarm, rushing to your bedside as fast as she could in heels, her slim fingers gripping your chin to inspect all the visible damage to your face.

"Ow! Ma, that hurts!" You winced, pushing her hands away from your face, not wanting her to touch you anymore. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Your mother huffed, her dull eyes looking over at Connor, rolling her eyes at him before looking back over at you. "Where's your supervisor? You getting hurt isn't enough for your boss to come check on you?"

Before anyone could retort back, more than prepared to defend your boss, you were all stopped by a new presence that wasn't there before standing in the door.

"I'm glad that you could make it Mr and Mrs Y/L/N. I was worried you wouldn't make it taking into account your busy schedules." Ms Goodwin said, the sass dripping off her words, her smile welcoming but also smug. "If you could come with me to my office and we could talk specifics if you'd like?"

"I'd be perfect to do it right here actually." Your mother said, puffing out her chest with confidence she always had surrounding her. "You'll find our lawyers at your doorstep tomorrow morning with a lawsuit."

"What?!" You exclaimed, sitting up straight, ignoring your bruised and battered body screaming for you to stop moving. Despite all the pain, you were ready to throttle your parents.

As gently as he could, Connor pushed you back down without further causing your any pain. Ignoring your rolling eyes and your pout, he was relentless and succeeded in his doings. After doing so, he stood and glared at your parents.

"You mind if we talk outside, just the four of us?" Connor asked but it wasn't so much a question than it was a demand. Without waiting for a reply, your fiance held the door open for your parents and Ms Goodwin, sending the couple a tight lipped smile when they passed him.

“You have no right to be here.” Connor got straight to the point, not wanting to mess around when it came to you. Your parents were spoiled and entitled, thinking they could do whatever they wanted to whoever just because they had more money.

You’d long distanced yourself from them, no longer wasting your time wanting their approval and constant validation for every little thing you did. After years, you were free of their shackles but they always found a way to crawl back in.

This was one way they planned to become part of your life again.

“You will walk out of here, you will get rid of the press that I’m sure is waiting outside and you’re never going to show your faces here again because if you do, I’m not going to be as cordial.” Connor warned your parents, towering over your mother even with the heels she wore.

Your mother tutted, slowly shaking her head in disappointment. She was fully aware of the audience they had, all consisting of your true family and you boss standing to the side but some Rhodes man wasn’t going to get in the way of her achieving her goal.

“You are in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do. That’s my daughter, I gave birth to her.” Your mother fought back, not afraid to get into Connors face.

“Mrs Y/L/N, step away from my doctor.” Ms Goodwin said with authority, gently pushing Connor back. “Your not welcome in my hospital if your going to treat my doctors which such disrespect.”

Your mother scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief about they way she was being treated with such hostility. Something was clearly wrong here with how people took orders and did what they pleased.

“Now if you please leave, it’d be greatly appreciated.” Miss Goodwin said with finality, a smug smile on her lips when she realised she was getting her way.

Huffing, your mother burned holes into Connor, openly glaring at him, not hiding that she hated him. Scanning the room, her glare remained strong as her eyes landed on each doctor and nurse.

Giving Connor one last look from over her shoulder, you mother stormed out the ED, your father trailing behind her like the lost puppy he practically was at this point.

Everyone could breath easier, the air feeling lighter and less contaminated the second your parents left the ED. It was the biggest relief.

“Doctor Rhodes, please get back to your fiancée.” Miss Goodwin turned to the surgeon, giving him a very simple order that he wouldn’t object to.

Connor silently thanked his boss, smiling at her before coming back into your treatment room where you still sat, patiently waiting for your fiancé to come back.

“Do I even want to know what happened?” You asked, a small smile resting in your lips as you urged Connor to come forward and give you a hug.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about baby. Everything’s been dealt with.”

[newtonsheffield]

Absolutely loving the bodyguard au snippet we are getting. If you do spicy Sunday I would love to see them for it. possibly the first time after Anthony gets shot, I feel like it would be interesting to see how Anthony deals with wanting to be with Kate but also having to deal with his arm not back to 100% (if that makes sense 😂)

Oh boy, I think his arm is probably something Anthony feels super self conscious about. He’s now in a very public relationship with the country’s most eligible woman. Anyone would love to be in his position. Not just because one day Kate’s going to be the queen but because he literally can’t imagine a better person than her. She’s so beautiful he catches himself staring slack-jawed at her as she does the most mundane things like drink her smoothie in the morning. She’s also smart, and kind, and compassionate and she has a pretty wicked sense of humour and even at Anthony’s best it would have been a huge swing to introduce them publicly as a couple, Anthony thinks. Now that one of his arms hangs by his side unmoving, and will for the rest of his life it seems even more ridiculous.

(This isn’t going to be too sad or that spicy honestly)

Some days Anthony wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to come here. Well. That wasn’t true entirely. Kate had strong armed him into it. He’d sighed, his left arm in its sling as he ruffled his hair with his right.

“Babe, I can’t do that.”

Kate blinked at him, “Why not? Everyone knows about us, I don’t think it’s going to scandalise anyone to imagine we’re sleeping in the same room.”

“Ben can stop by and look after me.”

Kate had looked disappointed, and Anthony hated to see that. “I want to look after you, that’s what partners do.”

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

It was guilt that was driving Kate he was sure. The bullets that had been meant for her and burned through him instead after he’d pushed her back into the arms of the other protection officers and he knew she felt guilty. She felt as though it should be her, how could she not?

Kate rolled her eyes, “I love you, you aren’t a burden. We can do this one of two ways: you move in to the small palace with me-”

“I think Edwina would have something to say about it.” He clutched at that as his lifeline.

“Edwina understands that I want to look after my boyfriend who nearly died.” Kate tutted, “If you won’t go there: I’m coming to yours.”

Anthony’s heart stuttered, “You can’t! You don’t have enough security there!”

Kate clicked her tongue, “Then I guess we’re back to my original plan.”

“Ben would actually prefer you to be where Edwina’s beautiful secretary is.” Ben said from the sofa giving Kate a furtive High Five.

“Settled then.”

Anthony deflated, “Am I ever going to win another argument?”

Kate kissed his forehead, “No, but you’re very handsome.”

So he’d come to stay with Kate, he’d let her fuss over him, let her take him to his follow up appointments even though he hated how useless he felt. It was the first time in his adult life that he’d been idle, Anthony had realised. He’d graduated school and gone into officer training, then he’d been in the army and when he’d left the army he’d become Kate’s head of security. He’d never been without a job since he was 16 working in a Newsagent’s and now all he had were long days sat on the sofa with an arm that would never move again.

It wasn’t the most romantic start to their life together, it wasn’t the way Anthony had imagined when he’d let himself get carried away and imagined a life where he and Kate could actually spend their lives together. He hadn’t imagined Ben having to put his arm in a plastic bag to prevent the surgical wounds from getting wet and more importantly, preventing Kate from seeing them. He hadn’t imagined her faced with a life of having to cut his food for him and part of him hated being stuck in this weak body. He hated sitting with Kate’s fingers intertwined with his, their hands resting on her lap as a doctor looked over the results of the tests he’d done.

“Well, everything looks great, Anthony.”

Kate kissed his temple, “I told you.”

Anthony tried to smile at her, “So… my sling?”

The doctor smiled, “You can wear the sling if you like, and I’d like you to attend so more rehabilitation but I don’t think it will make much of a difference now. You’re cleared for physical activity now.”

“Ooo exciting.” Kate chuckled, “Looking forward to it.”

Anthony squeezed her hand, nodding at the doctor, “Great. That’s… that’s great.”

He was still staying at the palace, settled into the routine of showering early, while Kate was out for a jog so she wouldn’t see the puckered pink lines of the scars that marred his shoulder ad the upper part of his chest now. When she came home with her cheeks flushed and her skin smelling like sweat and kissed the top of his head he tried not to notice how disappointed she seemed.

“You showered already?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Anthony cleared his throat. “I felt a bit gross.”

“Wanna shower with me again?”

“No I’m um… I thought I’d call my Mum.”

She kissed the top of his head again, “Okay. Love you.”

“Yeah I… love you too.”

He wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Likely what she needed either. Kate was so affectionate, her fingers were always in his hair or intertwined with his and he loved that about her. He loved how physically affectionate she was especially given how touch starved he’d felt when they’d first fallen into bed together. And now he was terrified that if he let himself be close to her she wouldn’t like who he was now, because he barely recognised himself. But Kate never pushed it and somehow that made him feel worse.

They sat together, just like they did every night, Kate tucked under his arm on the sofa as they watched something on the TV, Her thighs were bare against his legs in his pyjama shorts and she sat in one of his shirts. Anthony swallowed the heat that rose in his chest at the feel of her skin against his the way it always did. Kate’s breath was warm against his neck and her arms were tight around his waist, her legs slung over his and his chest ached to reach out and kiss her. He wanted nothing more than to slide her onto his lap and let their hips rock together but he didn’t want to have to see the look in her eyes if he did.

“You okay?”

Anthony cleared his throat, trying to adjust his hips, “Ah, yeah. I’m fine.”

Kate chuckled, her eyes dancing in that way he loved, “Yeah I can feel how fine you are.”

She reached up, her fingernails scratching his chin as she tilted it down until their lips met.

Anthony moaned at the feel of her lips on his. They’d kissed since he’d been injured, of course they had, even if they hadn’t been having sex, they’d kissed but it felt so long since it had been something that felt as though it would build to something more. Kate’s tongue swept over his and when she drew him closer his arm slipped to around her waist, holding her tighter. Kate shifted against him, her legs widening until she straddled his hips. Anthony could feel heat creeping through his body, his heart pounding in his chest. And then her fingers caught the edge if his Tshirt.

Anthony pulled back shaking his head, “Sorry, Um. I don’t want to. I… I need to go to bed.”

Kate’s face fell, “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

anthony couldn’t even look her in the eyes, “No I just… I can’t.”

Kate swallowed and her arms were wrapped around her chest now but she didn’t move away from him. “Do you not want to do this anymore?”

Anthony froze, his eyes shooting to hers. “What?”

“Do you not want to be together anymore? I… don’t care if you need more time, or you’re tired. I don’t care, I don’t need to have sex as long as you’re here but if you don’t want to be together anymore then I just want you to be honest with me.”

That was what broke him.

“I don’t want you to see my arm.”

She blinked at him, looking down at his left arm in surprise. “Your arm?”

“Not my arm.” He let out a frustrated groan, “My shoulder. The scars, they’re ugly and I don’t want you to see them. I just feel fucking useless, Kate. I used to protect you, and now I sit on your sofa, and you have to cut my chicken for me.”

Her fingers twisted in the front of his shirt, “I’m happy to do it. I love getting to be there for you.”

“I don’t feel good about myself and I hate that and I hate that I’m disappointing you.”

She shook her head, “You’re not disappointing me. And I get that this is… probably really scary for you right now but I promise: there’s nothing that could happen that would make me fall out of love with you.”

Anthony nodded, staring down at her hands in his shirt, “It’s ugly.”

She smiled at him, “You could never be that.”

There was a question in her eyes and Anthony nodded slowly, apprehension curling in the pit of his stomach. Kate moved slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop her as she pulled his shirt over his head.

He couldn’t look at her, as she guided his paralyzed arm from the arm of his Tshirt but he felt her eyes burning into his skin. Her fingers ghosted over the puckered lines, following them across his skin and her lips curved in a smile as she leaned forward and kissed them gently.

“I was right. Still beautiful.”

His breath shuddered from his chest as he leaned down and captured her lips with his. It was still a gentle kiss, really, even with the heat simmering between them but Anthony could already feel his heart pounding in his chest. Kate gasped against his lips and her hand tugged his left arm to wrap around her waist as well, holding them together.

Her hips started to rock slowly against his and heat roared to life in his stomach at the slip of her skin against his, even through the thin cotton of his shorts. Kate swallowed his gasps and moans with a smile on her lips and her forehead pressed against his.

“Yeah?”

Anthony nodded as her fingers curled in the waistband of his shorts, “Yeah, yes. Fuck, yes, Kate.”

She smiled against his lips as she kissed him again and the clothing between them seemed to melt away. Anthony could barely breathe at the feel of her soft skin and her arm wrapped around his neck, her bare chest pressed against his.

“Oh god.”

Everything fell away but Kate. There was nothing but the feel of her hips moving over his and the beat of her heart against his. He couldn’t feel Anthony but her lips pressed against the skin of his shoulder and her fingernails cutting into his skin. Anthony’s forehead fell against her shoulder, desperate to be as close to her as he could after weeks of denying them both this intimacy. Kate’s breathing was ragged and every move she made left him feeling closer and closer to her, closer to the end he wanted them to find together.

Heat curled in the pit of his stomach and he could feel Kate’s thighs starting to shake as they climbed higher and higher, their eyes locked together. Anthony could feel his skin burning and his chest heaved as his jaw clenched.

“I love you.”

Anthony fell apart at the same time Kate did with her words whispered in his ear and his arm crushed her against his chest as their movements slowed to nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. Not now.

Kate hummed against his skin, “When I said I loved you I meant it. Forever.”

Anthony felt his eyes fluttered closed, “I love you too.”

Kate sighed, her fingers twining in his hair, “Does this mean we can actually shower together again? Because I miss getting to wash your hair for you.”

anthony chuckled, “My hair?”

“Yeah it’s cute. And the rest of the view’s nice too.”

Anthony groaned, standing and crushing Kate awkwardly against his chest with one arm, for the first time unbothered that the other hung at his side. “Come on then. My cute hair needs a wash.”

[all-hail-the-witcher]

questionable government spies but better written and five years late, chapter 3: i’m not one for bullying, but i am one for bullying nepo babies!

yeah it’s been like 10 months. you win some you loose some, ok?

—-

words: didn’t count, at least a few thousand

warnings: lots of swearing, gangs mentions, davey is an asshole

edited: kinda!!!

tags: @jack-kellys @ainti-pretty @boygirlctommy (let me know if you want to be tagged)

ch1 | ch2 | read on ao3

—-

“Jesus fucking christ don’t any of you dipshits know how to fucking merge ?” 

Albert blinked his eyes open blearily and then immediately shut them again. The rising sun reflecting off of what was probably miles of cars and tractor trailers gave him an instant headache. 

“Are we there yet?” Jack asked from the back seat, voice thick with sleep. 

“No we’re not fucking there yet,” Race cursed. “If we were I’d be cursing much fucking more.” 

Albert couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to be back with Race. “You know I could have driven,” Albert said. 

“Like fucking hell I was going to let you do that,” Race took his eyes off of the road for a brief second to glare at Albert. “First you’re injured-“

“I’ve had worse.” 

Race ignored him. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week-“

“Hitchhiking from Canada is hard work!” 

“And it was one thing on the fucking bumble fuck backroads, but this is fucking 95. People don’t fucking know how to drive here.” Race swerved into the right lane and layed on the horn and flipped off the Jeep that had just cut him off. “See?” 

Unfortunately, Race was correct. Despite the fact that Albert had raided a Walgreens in not only Chicago, but also somewhere in the maze of corn that was Ohio, his shoulder was still fucked and his nose was regrettably getting more and more stuffed. Normally he would down 9 advil with half a bottle of DayQuil and pass out for six hours, but he wanted to be at least mostly conscious when he entered Davey’s office. So he’d been alternating between taking advil and DayQuil every four hours. It was nowhere near as helpful as his usual dose and he felt like absolute shit. The one driving shift he had taken, at midnight through Pennsylvania, had been absolute hell. But Race didn’t need to know that. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Jack asked. “You’ve been going since two and-”

“Jack,” Race interrupted. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Albert smirked. 

“Yes?”

“Have you ever driven into Manhattan at 7:30am?” 

“No.”

“That’s what I fuckin thought.” 

Jack hesitated. “So do you not...want me to drive?” 

“I’d rather fucking retake fucking high school fucking chemistry again than fucking let you get behind the fucking wheel right now.”

Albert tried to hide his laughter unsuccessfully. 

Race took his eyes off of the road for a brief second to side eye him. “Albert Dasilva rush hour traffic is not a laughing matter.” 

“Sorry,” Albert muttered, biting his cheek to keep the rest of his laughter in. 

“But why is it different from rush hour traffic in any other state?” 

“Watch and learn,” Race said. “Albert, badge me.” 

Oh this was going to be good. Albert opened the glovebox and pulled out Race’s FBI badge. In all their years as agents they had wanted to do this but had never had a good enough reason, until now, evidently. 

“Why do we need a badge to get through the toll plaza?” Jack asked. “Are they going to give us a discount or something?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Race scoffed. “We work for the government, not the fucking mafia.” 

Albert snorted. That was one way of putting it. 

As they drove through the toll plaza Albert felt adrenaline begin to course through him, momentarily taking his mind off of his sorry state. This job was so much better with a partner. This was something that he knew, obviously, but he came face to face with it every time he was out on his own for long periods of time. Albert had hitchhiked across his fair share of the country on his own and it was always hell on earth. It made him appreciate moments like this even more, the small moments of insanity in an otherwise, generally frustrating job. He could die at any moment, but at least he had Race by his side and some kind of scheme brewing between them. 

Like right now. 

“Why are you going into the bus lane, Race. We are not on a bus.” 

“Watch and learn, Jackie,” Race smirked as he rolled down his window. The state troopers were already approaching the car.

“Sir this is a bus lane only,” one of them said. “You are going to have to exit.”

Race dramatically flipped open his badge like they do in the shitty cop movies. “Racetrack Higgins,” he said. “I’m with the FBI. Me and my partners are on a time crunch to get into the city.” 

“And what does that have to do with this here bus lane?” The trooper crossed his arms. 

“I’d tell you but you know how it is, FBI, secrets, alla that,” Race waved his hands around vaguely. “In fact, I should make you sign an NDA just for talking to me.”

The trooper was unamused. 

“Look man,” Race said. “This is a life or death situation here. You either let me through or I tell the head of the New York FBI that you, personally, are the reason why I am late, and lemme tell you, that is not going to be good for either of us.”

The trooper considered. Behind Race, buses began to honk impatiently. 

“C’mon man, I’m holding up the line of disgruntled commuters here.” 

“Fine, just this once,” The trooper said, stepping back from the car and waving Race through. 

Race rolled up the window and stepped on the gas. A small, devious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Oh, what Albert would do to see that smile. 

“Boys,” Race said, pulling into line with the other buses. “We’ve fucking done it.”  

“ Fuck yeah man,” Albert shouted, reaching over to fist bump Race.

“What did we do, exactly?” 

“Bypassed all of the fucking tunnel traffic,” Race said, drumming on the steering wheel. “It's an absolute game changer.”

“But you said it was a life or death situation…?”

“Uhh…yeah?” Race looked at Jack through the rear view mirror. “Jacobs is going to fucking kill us if were any more late than we already are.” 

“Why are you guys so afraid of him?” Jack asked. “He’s just another guy working for the same people we do, he’s barely got more clearance than you do.” 

Albert smirked as Race made eye contact with Jack in the rear view mirror. 

“Let’s revisit that thought when we’re done with the meeting, capisce?” 

And an hour later, when they were all finally sat in Jacobs’s office, Jack really did look like he was rethinking that comment. Albert didn’t blame him. 

“You’re late,” Jacobs said, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“My apologies,” Race said. “One of us was dead less than twenty four hours ago.” 

“What, you think crime stops when people die?” Jacobs sat down behind his desk. 

Race opened his mouth to respond but Jacobs fixed him with a glare. 

“I want to keep this brief,” Jacobs said. 

Finally, something they could all agree upon. 

“I don’t want you here,” Jacobs said. 

Race snorted. Albert choked down a laugh. Jack looked confused. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Race muttered under his breath. 

Jacobs ignored him. 

“The only reason you are allowed back here is because we need your help.” It looked like it pained Jacobs to say that. 

“Could I get that in writing?” Race asked. 

Albert elbowed him. 

Jacobs glared harder. “I can still fire you.” 

“You just said you needed my help.” 

“Race,” Albert whispered, bumping his leg against Race’s. 

Jacobs watched the two of them with a bemused expression before continuing. 

“A man named Sean Conlon turned himself in this morning. He’s a member of The Anonymous, a gang we have been trying to take down for years.” 

“What does this have to do with us?” Albert asked. He was familiar with the name. He didn’t know much, but he knew they were dangerous. He thought that Finch might have mentioned them before. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Jacobs said. “It has to do with him.” He pointed at Race. 

“Me?” Race raised his eyebrows. 

Albert did not like where this was going. 

“He said he will only talk to you,” Jacobs said. 

“How does he know who I am?” Race asked. 

Albert was wondering the same thing. He and Race had fucked right out of New York as soon as they could. It didn’t make sense why a gang member would be on a first name basis with him. 

“I don’t know, and I also don’t care,” Jacobs said in true Jacobs fashion. “I want to take these fuckers down. So the case is now yours. Don’t fuck it up.” He slid a fat case file across the table. 

Albert glared at it like it would bite him. 

“It’s going to be a few weeks before I’m able to do field work again,” he said, gesturing to his arm that was still in the sling. “So I am not sure when we will be able to-“

“Oh you’re not doing anything, Dasilva,” Jacobs said, his smile sickeningly sweet. “You and Kelly, was it? Are on behind the scenes work exclusively. Higgins will be in the field.” 

Albert felt his heart drop down to his feet. 

“Sir-“ he said, trying not to let his voice shake. “I don’t think that’s-“

“I don’t care what you think,” Jacobs said. “This is the first solid lead we have had on this case in years. Higgins is going to be in the field and that’s final. Now for your assignments…”

He started rattling off addresses and places and Albert tuned it out. He could blame it on the pain or the cold he was definitely catching when Race asked him about it later. Race and him were a packaged deal. Together or bust. Usually it was Albert in the field, Race on backup. Not because Race couldn’t handle himself. But because it hurt Albert too much to see Race get hurt. He had seen enough of that when they were kids. He could keep Race safe now. That was why it was always him throwing his life on the line, jumping in front of bullets and off bridges and exploding things and detonating things and doing whatever he needed to do to make sure that Race could go to bed in one piece at night. And Jacobs wanted to throw him straight into the fire now? In New York? He was worst than a jerk he was a fucking-

“Dasilva!”

Albert snapped out of his thoughts. 

“Hm?” 

“Pay some attention. I said you’re working at the Starbucks in Times Square and-“ 

“No the fuck I’m not,” Albert said, surprising himself. 

“I beg your pardon?” Jacobs looked like he was considering stabbing Albert with the pen he was holding in his hand. 

“No I’m not,” Albert repeated. “If you want me on this case, I’m working at 99c pizza. That’s my one condition.” 

Jacobs considered. He knew Race and Albert were a packaged deal. They already had been. 

“Fine.” Jacobs said. “But I’m not making any other exceptions for you two.” 

Albert nodded. His arm was hurting again. He didn’t realize how tense he was. He needed to go lay down. He needed this meeting to be over. He needed to go curl up next to Race and maybe that would wash out the numbness. 

It was far too long before Race was tapping his arm and offering him his hand. He just managed a curt nod to Jacobs as he followed Race blindly out the door. 

“He was…interesting,” Jack said as soon as the elevator doors closed. 

“Told you,” Race said, though it lacked his usual snap. 

“Still can’t believe the New York FBI headquarters are in the fucking H&M building,” Jack said, mostly to himself. 

Albert grunted in agreement. It truly was the stupidest thing about this place. Who the hell had had the bright idea to put the damn FBI headquarters in Times fucking Square of all places? 

Just thinking about the nightmare of this building and the sensory overload that was down on the street below them that he was going to have to walk through in a few minutes made his head hurt. He let his eyes fall closed. 

Race’s hand was immediately on his uninjured shoulder. 

“Do you know where you’re going, Jack?” Race asked. 

Jack must have nodded because no one said anything else. 

All too soon, the elevator dinged open and Albert was forced to open his eyes as they were deposited in the Times Square H&M stockroom. 

“Stay close,” Race whispered. 

Albert didn’t need to be told twice. 

He let Race steer him through the throngs of people, letting his guard drop for the first time in over a week. He knew he should be on alert, but it was Race. Race would never let anything happen to him. 

“We just have to head to the van real quick,” Race whispered in his ear. 

Race could have led him anywhere and he wouldn’t have cared. 

He waited, leaning against the van as Race grabbed their go bags out of the back. He heard Race say goodbye to Jack, he must be staying somewhere different than them. Albert tried to take his bag from Race, but Race just brushed his hand away. 

“Not tonight, Albie,” he laughed lightly, as if this was a normal situation. Well, Albert guessed it sort of was. How awful was that. 

Race slid his free hand back into Albert’s and suddenly they were back on the street, back in Times Square and all the lights were blinding him, making his head hurt worse. He shut his eyes. Race would lead him home. He always did. 

—-

sincerely hope it’s been worth the wait lol. let me know what you think!!!

[doctor-fancy-pants]

That Researchin' Maritime Life

We've got a bit of downtime - there's a trawl going down to 5000m right now.

I've rotated and freshened up the sea cucumbers, packed away the echinoderms (starfish, sea cucumbers, sea urchins, brittle stars, feather stars and sea lilies), thrown a few buckets of seawater in the cold room (including the smaller pails seen below, I'm refining my holothurian rescue plans), and had a snack because This Machine, She Runs On Heavy Fuel.

This is actually a very comfortable ship to live on. Each cabin has a private ensuite, so you're not clambering down the bunk ladder and teetering out into the hall in search of the head in the middle of the night (I have been very spoilt and have only had one voyage like that). The mess has plenty of room at mealtimes. There are two lounges ("quiet" and "you're allowed to make noise and have informal meetings" respectively), and my favourite beanbags in the world.

There are, however, some drawbacks to marine research as a specialty (apart from the lack of job security, she says, as a short term contract taxonomist), and using a laboratory on a boat.

What drawbacks, you may ask.

Well, after my shift ends, I've been known to totter wearily into an online chat with mates and just drop random observations (you may note a somewhat laissez-faire attitude to punctuation).

For example:

you know it's amazing, you can be totally fine working in the dirty wet lab and you'll leave for five minutes and it's like your olfactory filters completely reset and then you get back down there and the nose is shouting at the brain "BOY HOWDY IT SURE DO SMELL LIKE FISHY PRAWNS IN HERE HUH JUST GOTTA SOAK IN THAT BRINY AMBIENCE"

summation: the science smells bad.

related outcome: the scientist also smells bad.

Yuuup, the smell is a whole freaking vibe. We can't dump too much seawater down the sinks that go into the grey water holding tank, we can't open the chute in the lab if there's an operation in progress (i.e. a trawl, a tow video, a Baited Remote Underwater Video, a fish trap) (which has been the case more often than not), and the same restriction is in place for simply tipping buckets over the side

That means that buckets of filthy seawater, sea cucumber guts, discarded excess critters, banged-up prawns and so on... just have to sit in the lab for a bit.

I've got a very sensitive nose. I have never been good at filtering out unpleasant smells, and yet somehow I kind of adapt to the lab odours... until I head up to the mess, and back down again.

(side note: we do actually clean the lab very thoroughly between trawls, and it does not smell all the time! It's more when you have to take a break in the middle of processing and then come back to it.)

What I do not adapt to is how bad I smell. By the end of the day, if I've been racing around in my coveralls, especially if I've been carrying heavy things, I will stink to high heaven.

(I will be quite self-conscious standing next to anyone.)

That shower is... so good.

But showering every day raises an issue. It's not what I normally do. Now, I realise there are some people who will find that horrifying (and most of them are from the US for some reason), but every second day, or when I need to wash my hair, or after a workout or, on a hot day? Yeah, that shower is good.

Every day? My poor skin is dryer than shoe leather, and I use a very gentle shower gel.

Shower Discord thoughts:

have been speculating on how one transitions from "I own body moisturiser but only occasionally remember to use it" as a terrestrial organism, to "I am pretty sure I could start a black market trade by subdividing this half-tube of Body Shop Hemp Hand Cream into small aliquots" as a person who is

1) at sea (the briny sea! The salty [drying] air!)

2) when not outdoors in the salty air, indoors in the drying A/C

3) regularly shoving one's hands into 100% ethanol and... usually... nearly always... wearing gloves while doing so

I mean this cream is the good shit

like basically liquid gold

which... could also be distributed in aliquots

okay. have decided: will not trade Body Shop Hemp Hand Cream for less than the equivalent volume of liquid gold

On later reflection, while I continue to believe that this asking price is fair, I may be pricing myself out of the market, if for no other reason than the simple lack of gold on board the vessel, regardless of phase.

I have decided that it doesn't have to be liquid. Melting gold on a moving vessel far off the continental shelf is an untenable safety risk. It just means that we will have to try to match the quantities by weight.

And that means using the scales in the clean wet lab, because the balances in our lab are not up to that sort of task.

And that means that I have definitely thought about this far too much, and I should go do something else (mainly clean my teeth and get ready for bed - need to get the energy for tomorrow's science-ing!).

We're still doing a fair bit of transiting and deeper sites, so I plan to try and knock out some taxonomic work on the few crinoids that have made it into the lab, and maybe set aside some time for the Sea Cucumber Salon.

Cukes gotta get their glamour shots, dammit.

[herarcadewasteland]

Discoveries Pt. 3 ♥

A/N: Yes yes its been a little while but I've been busy okay? and i’ve been fired so emotional things. thank you all for the support so far and i hope this makes up for the wait. 

Pt. 1    Pt. 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stretching in your bed the next morning, you let out a large yawn as you adjusted to fall asleep again. Turning over in bed, you weren’t expecting the face of Fred to be right next you. You let out a startled scream as he laughed you, your eyes rolling as your shoulders shook with laughter. 

“What are you doing, Fred? It’s like 5am.”

“7am. You slept in missy~”

Groaning and flipping to face the other side of the room, your hair swung dramatically with you and into Georges face, who was crouched on the opposite side of your bed, expecting the trouble of waking you up. You screamed again and sat up with a huff, the twins high-fiving over your head. 

“Will you two just let me sleep for another hour at least?”

“No can do. You see-”, George started.

“We need to be at Diagon Alley by 8:30.”, Fred finished. 

You ran a hand through your knotted hair, partly in confusion and mostly in frustration. When it clicked in your head that you had to get some school robes adjusted, you panicked and half jumped, half fell out of bed. The twins backed your frantic movements with laughter as they walked down to the kitchen, the chatter of impatient and hungry Weasleys filled your ears. 

“Why do we have to wait for Y/N to eat?! It’s her fault for sleeping too long!”, Rons muffled voice fell into your conscious and made you speed up your hair and teeth brushing. 

Rushing down the stairs, you stumbled directly into Bill who caught you with a sigh.

“Clumsy as always, Y/N.”

You let out an almost ashamed laugh, your arms squeezing around Bill as he wheezed. Arthur walked in behind the both of you and ushered you into your seats as Molly set down the plate of bacon. 

“Finally!”, Ron muttered as he grabbed the plate of bacon seconds after it hit the table, his plate piling with food.

Food was passed around between the family, conversation filling the air as you ate silently. Your silent bubble was disrupted when Ron dragged you into an argument between himself and Percy. 

“It’s not my fault you have a bloody stick up your ass!” 

“I am a prefect, Ronald, which is something that will actually get me into the Ministry!”

Ron shot you a look of ‘oh dear god not this again’ and you laughed. 

“Percy, you do realize not being a prefect can get you into the Ministry. You just need good grades and the right classes.”

Percy snapped his glare to you, knowing you were right, and sighed. He had always had a sort of soft spot for you, knowing you weren’t actually a Weasley. Which was a dumb reason to not hate someone but you went along with it so not absolutely every child in the house had an argument with him every other day.

“I suppose you aren’t wrong, Y/N. I just have a better chance this way.”

He turned his nose up at you and you laughed, finishing off your plate just as the rest of the family had. The plates were cleared from the table as everyone dispersed to do their own thing. 

“Y/N dear, we must be going if we don’t want to be late. Come now, to the fireplace.”

You brushed yourself off and followed Molly to the fireplace, your hand wrapping around another handful of soft powder. Your eyes glanced up to your mum as she nodded reassuringly. You still weren’t used to it yet and you had a feeling it would take a little while to feel normal and not like you were being vacuum sealed into a plastic bin. With a sigh you threw down the powder and clearly stated “Diagon Alley”, and then you were gone in a swirl of green smoke.

Stumbling from the grate in The Three Broomsticks, you ran headfirst into a solid mass. Panicked, you looked around to make sure you were where you were supposed to be and slowly glanced at whoever you bumped into. Your wide eyes met narrowed ones surrounded by the same white blonde hair from the other day. You took a subconscious step back from the man just as Molly came through the floo, her hands finding your arms as she stumbled lightly into you.

“Mr. Malfoy. If you’d excuse us.”, Her eyes narrowed back at the man as he looked between the two of you, “Come on, dear, off we go now.”

She led you away with gentle hands, your head turning to look back at the man as you swerved through tables. Your eyes met one last time before Molly was tugging you past the door with a firm but gentle hold on your hand. As you met the bustling roads of Diagon Alley, you squinted your eyes at the sun, a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth as you stared at the ground, trying to avoid any ray of sun you could. Leaping between shadows to the fitting, you panted as Molly gently pulled you to a stop in front of Madam Malkins. You sighed and Molly chuckled lightly, her hand taking yours and guiding you in. 

“It’ll only take a minute. Don’t worry dear.”

~~~~~~~~~

“A minute my butt!”,  you exclaimed as you stumbled out of the fireplace in the Burrow, Fred sweeping you off your feet immediately and up to your room where a trunk lay on your bed.

“What is this? Why is my trunk out? What did you do?”

You rounded on Fred and George as soon as you were placed onto the floor, their faces innocent as could be as they watched you with crossed arms and very small smirks of entertainment. 

“You need to pack for Hogwarts!”

“We all have. Our trunks are-”

“-Waiting by the front door.”

“Only two are missing~”

You sighed and stared into the empty space, your eyes tracing loose threads along the seam as you nodded. 

“Okay, I’ll go bother Ronald after I’m done.”

“That's what we like to hear!”, the twins chorused as they walked from your room to raid the kitchen, if Mollys loud reprimanding was anything to go by.

The packing only took you a few minutes, most of your school things were in a separate drawer as it was so all you had to do was move them into the trunk. You finished your packing with relative ease and an overactive mind, the zipper closing breaking the silence you had been working in. WIth a sigh, you pulled your trunk to the top of the stairs before making your way to ROnalds room to aid him in his no-doubt messy packing. Your suspicions were confirmed when you pushed open the door to encounter the entirety of Rons wardrobe scattered around the room. 

“Ron, how? There is no way you had to destroy your room to pack.”

HIs frantic eyes met yours as he scoffed, “Well no, but it felt necessary at the time.”

You hummed and cleared a few spots across the room, handing things to Ron you knew he would want with him. His eyes followed you around when he wasn't haphazardly throwing things into his trunk.

“At least fold things!”, you stomped over to his trunk and folded piece by piece as Ronald sat and watched you with a blank expression until you reached his Chudley Cannon jersey. Then he reacted and grabbed it from your hands with a gasp, his own carefully folding it in a mess. You shrugged and packed it neatly with the rest of his things, the heavier items resting on top of his clothes as the lighter things went on those. 

“There. All done.”, you heaved a sigh as you closed the lid of the trunk, the click of the lock creating a satisfying noise in the otherwise silent room. 

“Thank you, Y/N~”, Ron grabbed you for an overly tight hug, your hands pushing at his arms as you wheezed for a single breath of air that wasn’t from Ron’s vicinity.

“Ok ok ok! I get it, just get it downstairs with the rest of them!”

Ronald let you go after a moment, his frame moving out the door with his trunk in hand as you followed after him.

“You made it sound like you brought yours down! But nooo look at what’s right here!”, Ron huffed and lightly kicked your trunk as he passed it.

“I said the rest of them! Never included mine!”, you shouted after him as you grabbed your own trunk and carried it down the stairs to see Bill and Charlie in front of the floo.

Molly gave the two a big hug with large containers of sweets being shoved into their hands after Arthur gave them a hug as well, Percy nodding a farewell from the couch as he read through the Ministry’s handbook for rules and regulations. 

“Nooooo~!”, you whined, “You can’t leave yet! You like... just got here! We didn’t get to talk about Hogwarts!”

The eldest Weasley boys chuckled and pulled you into their arms for a group hug, tears filling your eyes as they pet your hair lovingly. 

“You know we have jobs to get too, Y/N. We can’t stay to see you off.”

You huffed at them and lightly punched their chests as they smiled at you. A small nod moved your hair into your eyes as you grasped them tighter. While you weren’t as close to them as you were the twins, they had still helped raise you in a sense and that created a connection, plus you were their little sister. Blood or not, that created an even greater connection. Still not one large enough to rival that of yours with Fred and George but it was enough.

“Fine. Just send owls, okay? I wanna tell you everything!”

The boys nodded and placed kisses on the top of your white hair, their eyes slightly glossy as yours overflowed with tears.

“We will.”

“Absolutely we will.”, Charlie finished as he guided you to Molly’s embrace, Bill giving a last wave and goodbye to the family as he stepped through the floo with a call of his destination. 

Charlie gave a similar exit with a blown kiss towards yourself and your mom as he called out for the Ministry of Magic for Romania, however he pronounced it. Their departure set the family in motion as Arthur ushered everyone into the kitchen to go over the basic checklist of the things you would need for your time at Hogwarts. Most of the list was checked off smoothly, Ron mumbling under his breath that it was unnecessary until your dad reached an item he had forgotten and cursed. That got him a small ass-whooping from Molly as she urged him to go get what he had been missing. Fred and George mocked him as he ran up the stairs, your quiet giggles backing them until your parents shushed you all and continued with the list as Ronald slipped down the stairs to his trunk and frantically packed his wand. The list went smoothly after that, everyone having followed the list to pack, well... you had. The trunks were smooshed in the back of the Ford Anglia with a small extension charm, a suspicious popping noise coming from one of the twins trunks, a huff of air and confetti falling into the trunk as they stood rubbing the backs of their necks sheepishly. 

You were all set to head out for Hogwarts, all that was left was getting onto the platform and finding a seat. Easy enough, you told yourself as Fred and George popped confetti onto Arthur as he walked away, their lanky frames sprinting away from a charmed broom as it chased them across the lawn. Easy enough... right?

[micallum]

normal day in the assy house in 20 years https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJHhDLCH/

Okay, I have calmed down and I come bearing gifts (cursed gifts but gifts nonetheless):

I will not go 20 years into the future but I think a little less is enough, so picture this with me (sorry for the short fanfic - something came over me):

You are making dinner in your cute modest home somewhere in Monaco, life has been good; you married your long-time boyfriend Arthur almost 7 years ago, had a dog, and provided shelter to all neighborhood cats. You have managed to have 2 kids during the past 5 years, with a third (and hopefully last) one on the way you believed the family was clearly complete.

You hear a lot of noises coming from the living room, as you do most days when Arthur is home. He is a good dad, in fact, it surprised you that he is so present even when he spends so much time away for races. The man makes a conscious effort to be reliable, which you thank him for since the Leclerc gene is an inescapable truth and your two boys have it.

What is the Leclerc gene? WELL, the Leclerc boys are full of energy, very focused, and very independent. If only they wouldn't try to do things on their own the entire time. You have been called to school more than once. The first time, little Oli had made a mess with a tube of white paint because he wanted to cover some crayon artwork his friend made on the wall... A more recent event was when your youngest started a food fight during naptime - somehow.

So you are used to the mess and the noise. It still worries you how the 5 and 2-year-old boys are going to deal with their newborn brother.

You rub your belly at the idea, at least Oli has the experience of when Marc was born, but Marc? Baby Macky? No, he is going to lose his mind in June.

With the table set you call out for the boys, hoping Arthur will help. A couple of minutes go by and nobody walks into the dining room. You poke your head out the hallway and call for Arthur this time.

"Tutuuuuur!" You tip-toe in your yoga socks.

Oh, and there they are. Every boy is on a different piece of furniture. Arthur balances his weight between the coffee table and the armrest of the loveseat as he giggles. Oli hugs a pillar with his arms and legs as he screams "Papa, je tombe!" Macky simply yells and covers his face with his hands as he waits for Arthur on the other end of the loveseat.

"What are we doing?" You ask the three of them in French, and everyone stares back. "It's dinnertime, come on!"

"How is she doing it?" Oli asks, climbing the pillar with the agility of a monkey.

"Mama?"

"I told you!" Arthur turns his body and points a finger at you, "I married a witch!"

Macky gasps but reaches out to you, bright innocent eyes staring back. You roll your eyes but your feet move automatically toward your child, walking right past your husband. You grab the youngest boy and hold him on your hip, he rests his arm on your shoulder and plays with a strand of your hair in his other hand.

"Mama, are you a good witch?" He mumbles.

He is almost a copy of his father and his timid smile makes anyone's heart melt. His kindergarten teachers are proof of it, and you are not immune either.

"Am I a good witch?" You put a finger on your chin for a moment and watch Arthur get off the furniture and go pick up Oli, "Most days I am."

"I think that makes Daddy a wizard!" Oli chimes in.

Arthur laughs and blinks repeatedly. "I don't know about that..."

"Okay, you two..." Your eyes narrow at Arthur, "-you three need to go wash your hands."

"Can't you use magic to clean them?"

Arthur smiles at Oli and gives him a high five, though upon seeing your face, he puts him down and comes to grab Macky.

"We'll be right back," he whispers, taking a second to give you a quick peck on the cheek.

"Of course you will, food's getting cold and we're starving!"

You have picked up the habit of speaking about yourself in plural, a hand on your belly almost at all times now that the baby bump is bigger. Arthur always smiles and makes a little noise at the sight, tonight is no exception. He gives you a wink and runs off to the bathroom with a boy on each arm.

"Come on boys! Your brother's hungry!" You hear Arthur tell the kids.

"What brother?" Macky asks.

You turn on your heal, knowing that your husband's got it and will not say anything inappropriate to your children.

"I told you, Mama's a witch! She is making a baby in her belly!"

"WHAT?" Macky yells, "BUT I AM A BABY?!"

"ANOTHER ONE?!" Oli sounds less than thrilled, "We have this one!"

Arthur's laughter is loud across the house as he tries to calm the boys down.

"I promise you guys; this is the last one!" Arthur says, but you know he might not mean it.

The only reason you are pregnant again is that he convinced you to try for a baby girl, and you are sure he will try to talk you into it again in a couple of years... if you will give in is still uncertain, but you know there are few things you will deny him.

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

LOVE DATE with Nagi - Translation

You might want to check out first ⇒ LOVE APPROACH Day 3. by Nagi & LOVE AFFAIR with Nagi

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

(the listener presses the doorbell and Nagi opens the door)

Come on in! Welcome to my room.

I did a good job cleaning it, didn’t I?

(flustered) A-Ah, it's not just for today, it's always like this.

By the way. Even though I am only asking this now, will you really have fun watching a movie in my room for our date, moreover from the detective genre?

Because, no matter how I look at it, you’re trying to accommodate Nagi, aren’t you? If you’re being weirdly conscious about me being younger than you, there’s really no need for such a thing at all!

After all, I am your boyfriend, I am totally fine with changing our plans to something else even now.

In the end, you want to watch the movie with special commentary by me, the most genius detective in the universe?

Well, then there is certainly no one more qualified for that than Nagi. No matter how difficult the trick may be, there is no mystery that Nagi can't solve.

(turns on the movie)

(sighs in contentment) Juice and popcorn, sweet treats and a teapot of warm tea. Everything you might want is already set up. We can start right away. Here we go.

Hey! Why are you leaving so much space between us? Come closer!

(pulls the listener closer)

This is better. Here I can see much better.

“What can you see?” The projector screen, of course. (giggles) You thought I was going to say something like “your face”? You missed~ But you’re not wrong, to tell the truth.

Don’t worry, I was just talking to myself. Look, it’s about to start.

Oh, I figured out the code just now. What about you? I guess it can’t be helped. That one was inspired by a famous work of art. Think of it as replacing the letters of the alphabet.

(pauses the movie and scribbles on paper)

Look, here and here are the key points. Yes, that’s right! You got it! And Nagi has figured out the next one, too. This time you can do it too.

Success! It’s all thanks to what Nagi taught you, right?

Hey, high five! One, two! (high fives the listener)

Caught your hand~ (giggles) Because we’re on a date, it's normal to hold hands.

Oh, sorry, this is not a movie theater. When you’re on a date at home, this kind of thing is normal, right? (hugs the listener)

Hugging you tightly from behind while holding hands. Watching the movie like this is a nice idea, isn’t it?

It kind of makes my heart all nice and warm, I wish I had done this from the start.

No matter how embarrassed you are, can you please stop moving so much? Nagi can’t see the screen like that.

Ok, thank you. Now Nagi can go back to watching the movie.

What? What’s wrong? You can’t see well after all? If not, then we’re fine like this, right?

(giggles)

Or maybe... You might be so nervous about me that you can't concentrate on the movie.

I don’t blame you. Then, I’ll tell you something. Look at this carefully.

But instead, you’ll have to solve the last trick all by yourself. Of course, with no hints or explanations from Nagi.

If you get it wrong, I think I’ll kiss you as a punishment. …You hate the idea of kissing me?

Come on, your face just now was unfairly cute.

Don't tell me you don't hate it with such a shy expression! Even Nagi is starting to feel embarrassed.

Anyway, if it's okay with you, here's what I'll do. If you get it right, I’ll kiss you as a reward. That way we can kiss no matter what. You can do it, right?

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

No particular order to these because this is about self love not freaking myself out.

Under the cut because I am still very self conscious about how long my posts can be.

This one was a tribute to my favorite episode of Lights Out: Execution. It was a long car ride home with my grandparents and since it was October, Radio Classics was all spooky for the month.

The episode starts strong: a high ranking nazi officer is reading a letter on the situation in occupied France. In a small town, an unknown woman attacked a guard than ran off. In retribution, the commander of the local military has rounded up every woman fitting her description and is hanging them all until her kills the right one. The first woman comes out. She smiles. The floor falls out beneath her. The first woman comes out. She’s laughing now. Over and over the woman hangs. Her bodies pile below the stage. A storm picks up, driving all but her and commander away. Over and over he hangs her himself. She monologues to him, each time she says a county that will have it’s revenge against the axis powers the floor snaps out from under her.

And then she grows giant and reveals herself to be the Statue of Liberty!

It totally ruins the whole thing, but if you jump out right before then it’s such an effective little piece of horror, I would kill to see a short film adaptation.

I wanted to capture that in the piece, using a rougher pen (which ended up working perfectly for the lightning) and focusing entirely on the lighting. I’m still proud of the little touches too- from how strands of hair stick to her face to the title of the card not matching the number.

Next up: Jack of Hearts! This one’s very different but also relies on a very similar focus on ideas that are presented early on in a story then scraped.

When Jack made his grand reappearance in She-Hulk I was instantly smitten with this sad little guy and went back to read all his previous appearances. I was more than surprised to find that though in his modern stories his suit is a high tech alien device that keeps his powers in check and he’s an alien who’s half n’ half genes where just activated by the fluid he dumped on himself, that’s kinda the opposite of his original vibes.

I wanted to draw something to honor the original Jack, a man with a strange chemical burn wearing an antique suit of armor because it was the first thing he put on after the accident and now relies on as a mental crutch to keep his devastating powers in.

And I’m very proud of how it turned out! (especially because I was very ill when I drew it…)

I really liked how his energy signature turned out. I originally did this piece for Valentines Day, so I wanted the solar flares of his power to look sort of like roses.

I’m also very proud of his armor, which is based on this 1250 statue of Saint Maurice since it was the best match for his original look.

Next piece is actually two pieces I posted separately because I’ve just never worked myself up to finishing the full piece: Lurue!

She’s the patron of one of my stand-by dnd characters, so I’ve always been playing around with what she would look like. But at some point I had the thought “what if Lurue was based on Eohippus” and it was off to the races.

I genuinely have no clue how I motivated myself through hand drawing all the little crescent shapes of her design but it payed off. Plus it was super fun to balance the Indian/Ottoman influence of my typical Elven designs with her particular knight-in-shining-armor aesthetic.

Another two-for because these two are very similar. When I was younger my warm up for drawing was to do a simple portrait of a character then surround them with symbolically relevant plants and flowers. So of course when an X-Man gives me too many emotions I let them out with bouquets.

Not only am I technically proud of these two, I’ve always wanted to break into their symbolism because seemingly no one’s ever caught on.

Firstly, Chamber: Celandine (Joys to come), Fungus (Resilience, loneliness, solitude, disgust), Daffodils (Uncertainty, chivalry, respect or unrequited love, return my affection; new beginnings), Fireworks Protea (Courage, transformation, daring, resourcefulness, diversity), Thistle (Nobility, endurance, warning), Plum Blossoms (Beauty and longevity), and Amaranth (Immortality).

Then, Wither: Betony (Roman for protection from ghosts and spirits), Crocus (rebirth and a neverending cycle of life), Thistle (Again), Purple Hyacinth (Sorrow; Please forgive me), Purple Heather (Solitude, beauty, admiration), White Lily (Purity, commitment, rebirth; a rejuvenation of the soul), Foxglove (Insecurity), and Anemone (Forsaken, sickness, anticipation, undying love, eternal peace).

(I’m so proud of this one that it’s the cover to my Wither playlist, which is still under construction but I’m already so proud of, my playlists are one of my favorite non-art or writing pieces of art)

And finally because I feel weird not mentioning any of my writing, my two fav fics I’ve ever written are:

Shrine Bright Circus Man - Me worrying about Jester calling Molly a god given her history of believing so hard in that sort of thing that she actually made one. It’s short, it’s simple, it’s sweet.

In Pursuit of Ghosts - Probably my favorite thing from my ol’ Overwatch days. It’s a combination of my favorite crack theory about the two red heads being related and Moira’s best skin: Banshee.

[kimium]

What’s on your to-watch list, and what are you most excited to start watching?👀💜

Thanks for the ask, friend! I'm excited to ramble about my watch list, which is exclusively anime right now. I am not sorry.

This is super long, so it's under a cut.

What I'm watching right now:

Buddy Daddies: I know some people want to write this off as a Spy x Family clone, but that's a disservice and very judgemental of them. While there are some core elements and themes present, the execution of the story is vastly different than Spy x Family. Also, Miri is based on the animators' experiences with their children, so if she comes across as annoying... she's literally a four/five year old CHILD. Children... are annoying and no child is blessed with Anya's telepathy (which helps her sometimes act more mature and conscious of people around her). So, I will hear NO Miri slander.

Campfire Cooking in Another World with My Absurd Skill: Okay, so imagine this classic isekai set up: Heroes are summoned from another world to help defeat evil. Only one person summoned is a completely average guy and was summoned accidentally. His power is also super useless in battle: he can see character stats, he has unlimited storage, and he can buy anything from an online grocery store. He then takes one (1) look at the royals running the country and goes "Yeah, they're shady as hell... I'm ditching this country ASAP". So he does and ends up traveling and using his cooking skills to gain allies and friends along the way. Oh, and this anime is animated by MAPPA.

HIGH CARD: Look, the first episode has a Vegas casino aesthetic and that's more than enough to get me. The main story is about these magical cards that the royal family has. They're stolen and scattered leaving ordinary people finding them and gaining the powers of the cards. We follow a "car dealership" who are tasked with getting all the cards back for the royal family, but the cards have also fallen into organized crime's hands. What I like about this anime is how the cards have unique powers such as: guy who can turn anything he touches into marbles (anything...), girl with sword that awakens bloodlust of the user when drawn, and "We have Fitzgerald BSD power at home".

Revenger: Follows a group of people who take on "revenge killings" for those who "bite into a gold coin". The cast is super fun and the way the main cast kills their targets is unique. There is also some political intrigue in the background. I do warn people though, there is some Catholic/Christian imagery present, but it's within a fictional lens, so take that as you will.

Sugar Apple Fairy Tale: Look, this is the kind of shoujo anime teenager me ate up. It's set in a fictional world where these magical apples exist. Processing them gives a special kind of sugar that artisans create beautiful, delicate sugar sculptures. We follow a girl named Anne who wants to become an artisan, recognized by the King. Also, fairies exist, but they are subject to racism and slavery. Anne isn't prejudiced towards fairies which leads to Challe a very tall, dark, handsome fairy accompanying her. Cue them obviously falling in love. It's a very saccharine anime and the beautiful water colour backgrounds make this truly feel like a fairy tale.

The Fire Hunter: Set in an alternate Meiji like era Japan where people started to burn instantly, fire is now unable to be used and instead people use blood from monsters called Flame Demons that now roam the land. When Toko, our main girl accidentally gets a Fire Hunter killed trying to protect her, it's now her sworn duty to return his dog to the capital. On the other side is a boy named Koshi who is researching and will no doubt uncover something that was supposed to be secret...

While I think the animation style can feel a little under-budget, I think this anime is supposed to be more artsy, so if you're expecting very smooth animation this one isn't for you. But if you liked the vibe of Nausica and Princess Mononoke then I think you'd like this one too.

Bungou Stray Dogs S4: BSD IS BACK, BABEY!!! In case you haven't watched this anime, it follows a boy named Atsushi Nakajima, who has the ability to turn into a weretiger. Turns out there are other people with special abilities who secretly are a part of the government and even the dangerous Port Mafia. Atsushi ends up being saved from starvation (he's an orphan) by Dazai Osamu who works with the Armed Detective Agency, people who help maintain balance in Yokohama by taking on cases.

Every single character is based on an actual Literary Author, from Japanese to American to British to Russian. So, not only can you enjoy anime, you can now enjoy a literary classic in a whole new way.

To Your Eternity S2: I cannot tell you guys how underrated this anime is. Picture this: an orb that's dropped to Earth by an omniscient being. The orb changes into whatever makes an impact and interacts with it. For decades it's a rock until one snowy day a wolf dies near it. Thus, the orb, now a wolf, travels and meets a nameless boy. From there the orb gains human sentience and the anime starts to explore the questions: "What does it mean to be human?" "What is the effect of immortality on a being slowly gaining humanity?"

If you want a good cry because the creator of this also wrote A Silent Voice, then this anime is for you. Also, if you're looking for a strong character driven anime. There is action, but if you are only looking for action this anime is not for you. However, this anime is absolutely amazing and the commentary on immortality is top tier.

BNHA S6: Another series I've read ahead, I am enjoying all the animation to this juggernaut of a Shonen series. Also, the ending song SKETCH by Kiro Akiyama? Easily my favourite EDs for the series.

Attack on Titan (Final Chapters): Technically the next part isn't out for a while, but I'm adding it to this list because it's ongoing. Do I need to even describe Attack on Titan? It's breathtaking and beautiful while showing the most horrific acts. The opening Under the Tree by SiM lives rent free in my brain, especially since their prior opening The Rumbling was in Eren's POV and now this one is Mikasa's POV.

Most excited to start watching:

-Jujutsu Kaisen S2: I AM EXCITED BUT ALSO NERVOUS AS HECK FOR THIS NEXT PART. I've read ahead and OH BOY I don't know if I'll emotionally survive.

-Dr. Stone S3 is going to begin in April with the Treasure Island arc. I read the entire manga and I'm SO EXCITED to see the next part of the story animated.

-Kimetsu no Yaiba is also returning with The Sword Village arc. While I know the last part of the Entertainment Arc and the first bit of the Sword Village arc are in theatres, it's technically not back in episode form. Like Dr. Stone I read the entire manga and cannot wait to see the next part.

-Spy x Family season two has been announced. While I know we don't have a date of release yet, I am very excited. I am reading the manga like the other entries here.

-Bleach TYBW Part 2: A very nostalgic series for me, I've been a Bleach fan since the original anime, episode one came out. I never thought I'd see the final arc animated, but it's breathtaking and like every other entry on this list, is a series I've read the manga for. Very excited for the continuation!!!

-Trigun: We end this anime with another older series on my list. Yeah, I grew up in the 90s era anime. No, I didn't watch Trigun. I always meant to, but I sort of forgot? Uh, anyways with Trigun Stampede out I think it's time I watched a classic before seeing the new version.

(Can I add the honourable mention of Fire Force? Because when that series returns I'm going to Scream. I am SO EXCITED for this one because there is a MOMENT in the series that when it's animated I fully expect the internet who has not read the manga to collectively lose their minds.)

So, there you go! I hope some of the anime I listed makes people want to give some of these series a try!

[lucislovebug]

Fumbling

Chapter 4 <3

Before she could get a chance to acknowledge his compliment, he was acting a fool with two boys. One with an odd looking modified uniform, and a little boy. She looked to them, and then to Josuke. He was the same boy that was just blushing and falling over his feet, and now he was talking about things she really wish she didn’t have to hear. 

“Oh! Sorry, this is Y/N! She’s walking home with us today, I met her this morning.” Said Josuke, smiling to the girl, grabbing her by her sleeve to pull her into the group. 

“Oh! Mhm, very nice to meet you guys.” She nodded, though confused from how Josuke grabbed her.  

She always knew men switch up, often for the worst, around their best friends. But he had just asked for permission to touch her hair, why was he pulling her around now? It made her feel a bit odd around Josuke, he was so timid and quiet just five minutes ago.  

Seemingly conscious again, Josuke let go of her, gently rubbing her wrist as he moved his hand away, a flash of regret on his face.  

As the girl became acquainted with Koichi and Okuyasu, she became less apprehensive of their brashness, finding herself laughing and enjoying her time with the three guys. She wasn’t used to talking to people like them, she was always surrounded by her girlfriends, chatting about the latest drama and tests. These guys spoke about.. Nothing, yet they could talk about nothing forever. It was nice to not have to use her brain, she could let herself relax, the seven songs in her head, the replaying of four memories at once shutting off as she tried to make sense of a sentence Okuyasu said. 

The walk home went well, full of laughs, playful slaps between the boys, the air was so good. Not just because of good spirits, but because of the rain from earlier that morning. It was warm, not dry, and the clouds parted, exposing the beautiful yellow-gold sky of the evening.  

Josuke knew it was only a matter of time before he remembered he was with such a beauty. The falling sunlight rested at the high points of her face, illuminating her soft skin. The way her eyes seemed to sparkle more in the light was breathtaking, he suddenly became quiet, walking beside her, taking sneaky glances like he would every time they had class together. The way the tip of her nose seemed to call him in closer, the way her lips moved as she spoke and smiled, how her eyebrows furrowed when she tried to get a point across, her cheeks, which looked so soft, and her cute chin were all perfect examples of beauty. 

“Josuke?” The girl asked, nudging him in the bicep, trying to get his attention. 

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, what’s up?” He asked, sadly being pulled out of his trance, yet happy that it was her who did it. 

“I’m home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said with a smile, nudging his arm again as she walked up her stoop, disappearing into the house.  

“Bye!” He said as she walked away, a big smile growing across his face as he watched her pretty body move, now grateful for the rain that ruined his hair this morning.  

“Dude.. What’s wrong with you?” Okuyasu questioned rudely, smacking him on the back as her door shut. His demeanor changed, his rough face now looking to him with puppy eyes. “Ohhh Y/NNNN.... You’re so... Woowwww...” He mocked, scowling. “You have zero play!” He said with a saddened expression, seemingly disappointed in the lack of skills he had with girls. 

“Dude!” Josuke said angrily, hitting him right back. “Is it really that bad? I’m just treating her kind! What am I supposed to do?” He said with an exhausted and dejected sigh. 

“Bro you gotta woo her!” Said Koichi, shaking his head as if it were obvious. “Don’t treat her like she’s one of us.. Take her out tomorrow instead of walking with us, we’ll understand.” He said with an encouraging smile, nodding as he spoke. 

“Shit.. Are you sure? You know I’ve only spoken and fumbled before..” He said a bit nervously, subconsciously fixing his hair until it felt right. 

“Yeah, dude. Buy her a snack to give her tomorrow morning, take her out for a late lunch after school, girls love food, trust.” Koichi continued to say, smiling and being actually helpful, while Okuyasu only made fun of him. 

“Yo, really? That’s all I have to do to impress her? Will she like me back?” He asked, tilting his head to his right thoughtfully. 

“I mean.. I don’t know her too well. Just make sure she’s fed, feels special, and do the extra work to see her happy.” He said thoughtfully, Okuyasu in the back with his hand on his hip and nodding as if he had any experience with women. 

“Sure.. I’ll go get her something, see you tomorrow.” He said, a twinge of nervousness in his voice. He gave his friends fist bumps, and then walked off, finding himself at a convenience store. 

It was then he realized that he had no clue what she liked. 

He thought to himself, trying to recall any of her conversations he had overheard, hoping and hoping any of them spoke about food or drinks. Thankfully, he thinks he remembered her saying something about not liking fruit in her pastries, preferring them separate. He went to the drink aisle, finding a sweet drink, and then finding a cookie for her. A big chocolate chip cookie that he planned to pop in the microwave before heading out to her the next morning. He smiled to himself as he paid for the items, feeling proud of himself for what he was doing. He felt a bit more grown up now, he had a woman to buy things for. 

He walked home, putting the drink and cookie in the refrigerator, hiding it behind the lettuce so his mom wouldn’t take it. He spent the rest of his day doing anything to avoid studying, sleeping a little later into the night as he was caught up in his world of video games. 

[goombasa]

Learning to Read for Pleasure Again

When I was in elementary school, I hated reading. It was really hard for me to learn, and I always felt like an idiot when I struggled to read words that it seemed like everyone else was able to read with relative ease. Or at least, that's how it appeared to me. This changed when I hit middle school and I became very ravenous for books. This continued through high school as well, and I was actually a pretty avid reader, mostly of genre fiction, but I also developed an acute interest in nonfiction about topics that interested me (this mostly consisted of computers, writing, and behind-the-scenes books on various mediums I enjoyed).

But when I hit college, there was a pretty big shift in my habits. It wasn't that I didn't have the free time to read, though classes definitely took up a lot more time for me than they did before. I just felt like I had to focus so hard on everything else around me, that I had no time to read for pleasure anymore. Add to it, this was also when I started my foray into first putting videos up on youtube, which slowly consumed more and more of my schedule as well. Even when I was home for holidays or vacations, I felt so tired and unmotivated, I couldn't find the energy to crack open a good book, even one that I had read a few dozen times already. I hadn't stopped consuming media either, that was for sure. I still played video games and watched movies and television regularly. I still made time to indulge in my brother's eclectic musical tastes (our house was filled with burned CDs that featured a hearty mix of ska, reggae, new metal, and classic rock), and I also took any opportunity I could to just catch up on sleep.

And then after graduation, this persisted, not helped by the fact that I fell into a very deep depression after coming home from college, that would last for a good two years before I managed to start actually getting up and doing stuff again. And while I did manage to do a lot to right myself and actually taking care of things, find myself a job, and get myself into something resembling a healthy work-life balance. I'm still working on wrangling all my various hobbies and interests and actually focusing on one thing at a time. But one constant that remained true through all of this time is that I still couldn't bring myself to start reading for pleasure again. I tried, multiple times. I tried setting aside time during various parts of the day, I tried rewarding myself (something very difficult when you figure out that if you're in charge of your own rewards, you can reward yourself whenever you want), I even tried easing in with books I had already read several times over, books that I loved and knew that I could get through easily, hoping to make it into something of a habit.

None of it worked, and it's been a great annoyance for me for a long, long time.

Recently though, since I started keeping track of the various media that I finish and consume over the year, I've started to make a conscious effort to start working through various backlogs of mine. Shows, and games, and yes, books that I've had sitting around for forever. It wasn't until I started trying to work through these backlogs that I realized how much of an accumulation I had. I think everyone has that issue with something, where they're constantly buying new things (usually on sale), but never actually does anything with it. I'm like that most often with books. You ever gone onto Thriftbooks when looking for a particular fantasy author? Dangerous stuff when you can get classic fantasy paperbacks for like less than 4 bucks a pop. but it gets to be a problem when you don't actually do anything with them.

And now, after about five years of working as an assistant librarian, I finally feel that spark coming back. I'm still a mess when it comes to time management and actually setting aside time to work on projects or just enjoy myself. But I am making a much more concerted effort to actually start reading again, specifically for myself. And it feels nice. I've been having building anxiety issues for the last few years (who hasn't, given everything that's happening in the world today), and it is remarkable, the escapism that reading has afforded me. It's a rather different feeling from what I get from a movie or a show or even a video game. I can feel immersed or engrossed in what I'm watching or playing, sure, but reading evokes a different sort of feeling when I'm essentially forced to imagine in my mind's eye what it is I'm seeing or hearing. In a way, it allows for a level of detachment from my surroundings that a visual medium doesn't provide, at least in my opinion.

It's been a long road to this point, but I am glad to say that I've reached it. Slowly, but surely, I am finally settling into a pattern of pleasure reading, and it's been doing me a lot of favors in terms of keeping my anxiety at bay, and I don't feel like I'm just binging something to binge it like I do when I'm watching a lot of series nowadays, I feel like I'm giving a certain level of investment when I sit or lay down to read in the evening and it's rapidly becoming a form of decompression for me. And hey, I'm finally doing something with that library card of mine. Ironic that I spent so many years working for the library and I never once took advantage of the fact that I was surrounded by plenty of amazing reading material, I just had to give myself a good kick towards actually looking through it.

If there are any fellow lapsed readers out there who are feeling similar, I wish I could offer advice, but as I said, I've tried and failed many times to reach a point where I can get back into reading for me, and there's nothing wrong with not getting back into it. But the benefits are well worth pushing yourself to trying to get back into being a regular reader. There are a lot of stories out there begging to be read, and in a day and age where media can so easily be taken away from you, there's a lot of comfort to be had in the physical feeling of a book in your hands.

[forabetterlifethanthis]

2. Things Can Only Get Better

Things can only get better. Never say ‘things can only get better’. When you say ‘things can only get better’, you are supplicating yourself to the whims of the gods of ironic fate. This morning, I thought ‘things can only get better’. My naïve self from 12 hours ago, how wrong you are. Things can always get worse. And when you tempt that sadistic fate, you can only expect one outcome.

 The intrepid I sets out on my second day of life assurance, with hope and positivity abundant. Five hours in hospital, and I laugh at myself. Because it would be risible if it weren’t so miserable.

 Day at the fun house: after many a scan, much a prodding and doctors attempting to mollify my moronic insistence that there is something that can be done when nothing can be done.

 I am often told to look for the positives. There are always positives. You can unentangle a positive out of any situation if you try hard enough. I did have to try hard. Positivity is not a trait that comes easily. I have, I feel with a modicum of justification, a fuck off attitude towards the world. I know that doesn’t do me any good, yet it’s an easy way to feel. But, I did it and found a positive. Shame that I have forgotten what it was. Something about a diagnosis. Knowing things is always good. Ensconcing myself in sumptuous supercilious knowledge as a way to compensate for my physical decrepitude has become a way of life for me. Do I sound like a pretentious twat? Yes. Am I a pretentious twat? Yes. Do I care that I’m a pretentious twat? Yes. Why lie?  

 The cause of my visual implosion and swirling blurring lights in my head is a very simple little thing. Two words that filled me with a visceral bile. Retinal detachment. I echo the words now and an insidious nails-on-blackboard sensation runs down my spine. I knew my retina was rather upset after all the surgery that I’ve had done to it in treating my arch mushroom enemy, invasive fungal candidiasis. Don’t get me started about mushrooms. My retina in my old bad eye was detached when I was nine, for reasons undisclosed. Essentially, it blinded the eye. It’s really not two words that fill you with pozitive vibez innit.

  Fuck, mushroom are in my head now. I enjoy dismembering mushrooms as an act of vengeance towards the funging fuckgus. I predict that the next global pandemic will be a fungus infection. And we have no effective antifungal treatments. Anyway, the fungus issue is a huge part of my fall from grace and I am sure that I will come back to it in more detail at a later date. If you’re unlucky. Today is about today. And today was a bad, bad, bad, bad day for me.

  Retinal detachment. That’s what I have and, to simplify it for you, I have to make the decision whether to live with psychosis-inducing flashing or blindness. Hmm, what a decision to have to make. I wonder what you would choose. I would genuinely be intrigued to know which you would choose. Debilitating pain or painless debilitation. I have nothing against blind people, in fact I am in absolute awe in the way that they obviate problems and live high quality lives. Blindness is not for me. Conscious darkness terrifies me. I don’t want it. Am I allowed to say that? That I would rather not live than live blind? Is it a horrible thing to say? These are all questions that I don’t know the answers to. But, as always, it is my truth. I hope that you can at least respect and accept that.

 However, I promised myself time and time is what I shall indulge myself in, secure in the knowledge that there is a way out. I know when I say things like that it secretes a repugnant feeling within you. You’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. To be honest, I’ve had a shit day and I don’t particularly care right now. I probably will tomorrow, but today is today and tomorrow is tomorrow. Anyhow, it is the pain that is the life for me for now. Maybe I’ll get used to it. Or I won’t. We will see (get it).  

 So today really wasn’t the way I wanted to start this little journey of mine. My mental fortitude went down the toilet of mental fortitude very quickly when I received the diagnosis. I did the only macho, manly, masculine thing to do and burst into tears in front of three middle-aged male doctors. Once upon a time I might have cared, but with each day that goes past, I give a couple of shits fewer.

 Is there hope?  There’s always hope!  Except for my left eye. I think lefty has run its course and I intend to leave it to happily flash away.  If it wants to flash, let it flash. Flashing isn’t illegal. But there’s always hope! (except when there isn’t).  However, I do have a right eye which currently is as ineffectual as, oh I really can’t be fucked to think of an apposite metaphor.  You’ve had enough from me today anyway.

 I need to end this in a positive fashion.  I feel I’ve drifted to my natural domain of nihilism and sark. I’ll awake the scampish quaint within me and end with an incredibly meaningful inspirational quote.

                 “You have to look through the rain to see the rainbow”

 Oh the irony.

[biillyhargroves]

I like to think about Steve and Billy having a little list of safewords or specific phrases that mean and communicate certain things, so they can both feel safe and can control situations without having to be overtly vulnerable.

"Snow zone" for when Billy needs out. Needs to leave, or stop whatever the fuck they're doing/talking about, needs gone like now.

"Can anyone else smell Twinkies?" for when Steve is checking in. Any form of agreeable answer is Billy giving the okay right back, anything else is a negative.

Certain nicknames inadvertently become part of it, too. Billy knows that when Steve calls him Baywatch he's a little on edge, riding the wrong side of the happiness highway, knows to not antagonise him so much.

Likewise Steve knows if Billy starts calling him High Society he's fucked for any sort of companionable interaction today. Billy's just in That Mood, the kind that leaves bruises, and he needs to back off and let Billy come back to him of his own accord.

Just. Like the thought of Billy getting overwhelmed at a party, so many eyes on him who'd see the cracks in his façade if he skipped out early, so he sidles up to Steve, makes small talk for a minute before saying do you think there's Barbican in the punch? and they part ways, but five minutes later Steve is making a big show of dragging Billy out of the house, pretending he's making Billy drive him home, and they're in the car after when Billy leans over the centre console, cheek on Steve's shoulder, soft and quite as he says thank you and Steve just turns the heat up a little higher, changes the station to smooth rock and promises Billy they'll raid the Harrington House freezer for all the pizza pockets its got when they get back.

Listen, I hear this. I adore it. I am obsessed with it. They would absolutely do this, even have a word to jolt themselves out of stupid arguments that get over-heated because they're both on edge all the time, are both a little high strung thanks to the horrible parents and the demon creatures crawling beneath Hawkins, and sometimes they need a reality check. They'll be screaming at each other about some stupid shit, one of them got the date wrong for something or other, now they're at each other's throats, and Steve just shouts, "Peaches! Peaches." And Billy blinks at him, forgetting, for a minute, what the word's supposed to mean, and when he realizes he can't help but laugh. Yeah, that was a stupid fucking argument. He sighs, agrees, "Peaches." They drop the fight, move on with their day.

They have their own secret language, new meanings tacked onto everyday phrases. "Let's go for a drive." means You look tired, let's go home. "Wanna smoke?" means Step outside, take a breath. "Got a light?" means I need out of here.

But I raise you: Steve and Billy come up with non-verbal signals to check in with one another and let each other know when they are struggling and need an out, because Billy is self-conscious and worries that their friends will riddle out their code words and sometimes Steve gets too shaken up to remember the right phrase to use. They both have panic attacks they often can't talk through, both get sudden bouts of anxiety, so they build in new ways to communicate with each other. Steve squeezes Billy's wrist twice: I'm done. Let's leave. Billy taps Steve palm three times: I need you. They speak in soft touches and passing glances, can read each other's faces, know how to maneuver one another out of uncomfy situations. They have plans in place, carefully rehearsed routines, escape routes from every local haunt and all the houses they've ever partied at.

They even use their secret language when it's just the too of them, especially after Starcourt when sometimes Billy is in too much pain or Steve is too in his head to speak. One will lace their fingers with the other and squeeze tight: Are you okay? The other squeezes back to answer, one pulse for No, two for I'm fine, three for Ask me again later. They even use sign language from time to time, pick up phrases from a little book Robin left behind in Steve's car once. They learn how to tell each other that they're in pain or that they're tired or that they need help without ever having to turn on their voices, practice with each other to make sure that they'll always know what the other is trying to say, even if they can't get the words out to say it.