#hope you enjoy my works if you have no seen them!

[band--psycho]

Rafayel x Reader - Change Of Plans

Part three of my 'They find out you got hurt on a mission' series. This will include Zayne, Sylus, Xavier and Rafayel! I'll be posting the other stories over the next few days, please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of them!

This is also my first Rafayel story so please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

L&DS Masterlist / Rafayel Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Hospitals, discharging ones self from hospital, mentions of pain medication, mentions of injuries

You knew discharging yourself from the hospital wasn’t the most logical thing to do, especially when the nurses were so insistent on you staying there for observation. 

But you weren’t exactly a big fan of hospitals and you weren’t dying, you just had a slightly nasty cut on your side, one that the nurses had already stitched and bandaged up. 

So as long as you were careful, you saw no reason why you couldn’t leave, which is why you were getting a taxi to Rafayels place. 

Perhaps you would’ve stayed, had it been any other day. 

But today, you couldn’t. 

Today, you had a job to do. 

Rafayel was going to a gallery opening tonight, and as his bodyguard, it was your job to be there and ensure nothing happened to him. 

You were well aware that Rafayel could handle himself well enough, but nevertheless, protecting him was still your job…and you knew you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to him and you weren’t there to stop it. 

People at events like this could get nasty, jealous of the success Rafayel had as an artist; you’d seen your fair share of angry competitors attempting to confront him; not that they ever really got very far. 

You were always there to stop them from getting to him. 

90% of the time, people would just walk away, muttering curse words under their breath; then there was then the other 10% that thought it would be easy to take you down, of course you proved them wrong every single time, much to the delight of your boss.  

You sucked in a small, sharp breath as you carefully exited the taxi, making sure not to pull any of your stitches. 

Part of you was regretting not taking any pain medication before you left the hospital, because now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain of your injury was beginning to set in. 

Another small wince fell from your lips as you knocked on Rafayels door; waiting patiently on the doorstep to be let in either by him or Thomas.

You heard footsteps walking down the hallway before the door opened to reveal your boss standing in the doorway. 

“There you are,” 

You could hear the relief in his voice as he looked at you with a small smile.

“Normally you’re the one chasing me to be on time,” he joked lightly; and you smiled back at him, knowing it was true. 

You’d lost track of the amount of times Rafayel was the one who ran late to these events; quite often you had to lure him away from his sketchbook with the promise that if he was bored in the first half an hour then you two could leave. 

“I’m sorry, my mission ran over a little,” 

You could feel Rayafels eyes on you, his expression remained neutral but you could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe your reason for nearly being late.  

But he didn’t push the matter any further, which you were grateful for. 

You knew that if he knew that you were injured, he wouldn’t go to the event tonight at all. 

That was even more of a reason why you just needed to focus on the task at hand; and hope that that would distract you from the pain you were in. 

He invited you inside; and the two of you were discussing the exit routes from the gallery as well as some of his competitors who were bound to make an appearance tonight; that was until you both heard a car pull up outside. 

It was Thomas. 

You slowly rose to your feet, assuming that you were both going to be leaving to go to the gallery, but instead, Rafayel put his hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down to the seat you’d been sitting in. 

“Stay here,” he said softly, vanishing behind the door and heading outside; you saw him talking to Thomas through the window, you didn’t know what Rafayel had said to Thomas, but you could tell that whatever it was, Thomas wasn’t that pleased about it.

When Rafayel came back into the room you were in, he had a beaming smile on his face as he flopped down into  the chair opposite you, “So, what do you want to do tonight?” 

“We’re going to the gallery opening?”  

The confusion in your voice was palpable; not even five minutes ago you were discussing the necessary safety precautions to take at tonight's events, now you weren’t going atl all?

You were used to Rafael changing his mind about going to events like this, but it just never normally happened this quickly.

“No we’re not,” he answered simply, picking up a nearby pencil and twirling it between his fingers, “I don’t feel like going anymore?”

“Why?” You questioned, mentally preparing yourself to have to persuade him to go. 

“They happen quite often, I’m sure I won’t miss anything,” he nonchalantly answered; before his enchanting pinkish-purple eyes met yours, “Besides, I think you could use some rest,miss Hunter” 

“I’m fine, Raf,” you countered back, a little too quickly, an action that wasn’t missed by Rafael

“Is that so? He asked quizzically, narrowing his eyes slightly,before putting the pencil on the table in front of him before taking a few steps towards you,his eyes never leaving yours.“Then why were you wincing earlier,”

You could have stuck with what you’d originally said; that your mission had simply taken longer than planned, but you knew Rafayel would see straight through your white lie as he already had. 

You hated having to tell people that you’d been injured during a mission, you were a hunter, you were trained to avoid getting hurt; so when situations like this happened, it made you feel slightly humiliated. 

And now you were going to have to tell the person who hired you to be his own personal bodyguard, that you got hurt during a mission and ended up in hospital.

“What happened?” 

You noticed a slight change in the colour of  his eyes; it wasn’t the first time you’d seen it happen, though it only ever seemed to happen when he was worried about something. 

And right now, that something was you. 

He was worried about you. 

“I…I got hurt on my mission,” you mumbled your admission almost so quietly you weren’t sure if Rafayel had even heard it. 

“Why aren’t you at the hospital?” he asked, placing his hand on top of yours gently, running his thumb just under one of the cuts on the back of your hand. 

“I was,” you admitted, “But I discharged myself.” 

“Because of the gallery opening?” 

You nodded simply to his question. 

“Your commitment to your job is admirable, cutie, even if a little foolish,” he praised, moving his other hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek delicately as though you were going to break if he held too harshly. 

“You should’ve told me,” he whispered, “I would’ve come and kept you company.” 

You couldn’t deny how his words, along with his actions, made you feel…

A feeling that you’d been trying to push away for the past few months.

“Raf, that’s sweet, but we both know you have better things to do with your time than sit with me in the hospital,” you stated matter of factly; making a small chuckle fall from your bosses lips. 

“Spending time with you is one of the best ways I could possibly spend my time,” he cooed, leaning his head down slightly before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“Raf-” you breathed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you savored the closeness of him. 

“Get some rest, cutie,” he quietly said, before grabbing the blanket that was behind the chair and placing it over you, “I’ll wake you up in a little while when our food is here.” 

You could’ve argued with him; but arguing would’ve been useless; and in all honesty, you were exhausted, so you complied with what your boss was telling you to do; you got yourself settled in the chair and slowly let your exhaustion take over. 

Rafayel watched you for a little while; until he was certain that you were asleep.

He knew that you were fine. 

But that didn’t stop him from worrying about you. 

When he saw you wince as you got out of the taxi, he felt his heart ache, he knew that something had happened, that was why he told Thomas that he wasn’t going to Gallery Opening tonight, he didn't want to put you at risk of getting hurt anymore than you already had.

He wanted to keep you safe. 

And he was going to ensure that that happened; that you were safe, no matter what.

Tagglist:

@xacatalepsyx @stiltdeer-snootnoodle @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @chubby-bun-bun @whimsiecat @callme-amaya

[maddiedott]

It Will Come Back

Pairing: Logan Howlett x GN! Reader

Warnings: Very rushed ending, Logan through various different movies/timelines, gn! reader, fluff and tad bit of angst, sexual implications but not explicit, alcohol consumption (let me know if i missed anything)

Hi! Hope everyone is having a great day! I've been struggling with some Wolverine hyperfixation and Deadpool Wolverine being released on Disney+ like 2 days ago didn't help much. So, I decided I would finally post this fic thats been in my drafts for like a month now? It's heavily inspired by Hozier's 'It Will Come Back', so please enjoy!

Time was always a fickle thing for someone who could never age, who had lived centuries and watch as it affected everyone you loved and yet hasn’t graced you with the same courtesy, a long stretch that dipped into the horizon and melted against the inevitable void. There were times when you yearned for the ice cold grip of death, the blissful eternal sleep that most try to run away from, to prevent. But that was before you had met him, before he whispered life back into your hollow bones.

It was a fleeting encounter, words exchanged in a fraction of a second. You couldn’t recall how long this cat and mouse game played out, but you eagerly waited for the next moment you would see him, even if just for a glimpse. It started out slow, the long pull and stretch of time that came with his absence.

The first time you had met was in 1932, a time where many longed for the cold, dark Earth to envelop them so they wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. The interaction was brief, a swift knock to the shoulder as you passed down the street. He grumbled an apology, his voice rough and with an accent that didn’t quite stick in your head enough to name. There was a hesitation in his step as his gaze met yours, more of intrigue than anything else. He stopped completely as you called out, brows furrowed in annoyance. He turned towards you, apology leaving his lips. He introduced himself as James Howlett. An odd last name. You gave your name in kind with a smile.

He looked exhausted, although there wasn’t anyone in This Depression that wasn’t. So, despite your better judgment, you offered him a place to stay and some lukewarm meals to hold him over until he could find work. You never were much of a cook, even now you struggle to prepare much of anything, but it’s not without lack of trying.The rundown country home had been your home for a little before the dust bowl and the drought begun since you had moved into it, trying to busy your lonely mind with farm work. You had set the loft in the barn on your sparse and dusty property for him, giving him plenty of blankets and cloth that would make for a functional and maybe comfortable bed. He mentioned a brother who you had seen only briefly every now and again entering the barn before leaving a few minutes later, always snarling. And even though your instinct was shouting at you to question it, you never did.

There was always an objection to the kindness you showed him when you would bring meals, to leave him to the land as that’s all he knew- how he sleeps, to not be kind. But each time he only came back. It was routine until you found a small note etched in charcoal with the words ‘I come back’. And just like that he had vanished as if he had never existed, disappearing and leaving a strange ache in your chest.

You couldn’t tell when the next time we met was as the years turned to decades. People like you had gained a name; ‘mutants’ and they were becoming more and more common around the world. As narcissistic as it sounded, you thought you had been the only one, cursed to roam the Earth for eternity while watching everyone grow old and die around you. You hadn’t expected to run into him, not after 3 decades, and you surely did not expect for him to look just as the day that you last saw him, nor to recognize you.

You sat beside him on the barstool, not speaking until a whisper of your name fell from his lips as if he had figured out the answer to all of the prayers he’d whispered in the dead of the night to an unseen God.. A smile graced your face before you could stop it, turning in the seat to give him your undivided attention.

“You shouldn’t smile at me like that, you know better.” He gruffly spoke.

You didn’t realize how easy it would be to miss someone’s voice until you heard his. It was as if his words were a melody and you had been searching for the right tune all your life. Just the sound of his voice had been enough to cure you of any ailments for the day. You continued to show him the kindness he so desperately wanted to refuse. To offer him a hand and a soul, one that he feels less deserving of. This time was shorter than the last.

A few drinks, some chatting, walking, and a stumbling mess of feverish, open-mouthed kisses as we reached your apartment and found your way to the couch, the floor, and then the bed. He had ruined you, that much you knew from the very first press of his lips against yours, from the whisper of your name in the bar just a few blocks away, or perhaps it was the very first time his shoulder hit yours.

Towards the end of your euphoric highs, you had noticed the extension of bones from between his knuckles as they dug into your mattress and utterly destroying it. It led to a pensive conversation that eased as you revealed your own curse, your lack of morality. He showed off his claws, explaining his own hyper senses and regenerative properties. You admired the bone that extended from the divots between his knuckles, fingers ghosting over the claws. The night morphed into day as you both recounted stories, although you could tell his were vague and lacking details, keeping them for the darker parts of his mind away from the light.

You hadn’t realized him to be an army man before that night, but sure enough he was being shipped out that next day. So the reunion was cut painfully short and you had to wish him farewell from the comfort of your apartment’s sheets, tangled and damp with cold sweat from the previous night.

It was the middle of winter the next time. You moved from place to place as to not raise suspicion on why one of the neighbors never aged, stuck in a younger body than that hasn’t changed in the last few years of where you stayed. You could never forget James, he was always a lingering thought, a distant wish to run into him once again. As the seasons transitioned from to another, that wish slowly fizzled out.

It burned brighter one particular night, when there was a strange howling outside your door. There had been wolves hanging around, but they sounded nothing like this. So, with little fear to your well being, you opened the door.

He looked different, scruffier and wild. There was a metal contraption on his head that wired down to two boxes on either side of hips. The machinery and mechanism was complex as if he were some part of someone’s cruel experiment. There was a snarl sound emanating from his throat, sitting on his haunches. But his state of undress in the dead of winter was not what caught your eye but the sharp metallic ‘shik’ as metal drew from the divots where bone once did. A sharp gasp left your lips as he slowly stood to his full height, eyes locked and unwavering. He sniffed the air like an animal before taking a step forward, his instincts fueling his muddled mind, the movement subconscious.

He had found his way back, but at what cost? What had this poor man endured to become this way? This feral?

As he took a step forward you mirrored in a step backwards, crossing the threshold of your home and he simply followed. His wild eyes darted from corner to corner, sniffing once more and then taking a deep inhale. He visibly eased up, although still had the behavior of a cornered animal. You let him into the warmth of your home, let him wander and orient himself with his surroundings despite your conscious telling you not to.

It took multiple hours of gentle coaxing and many more attempts of snapping from him until you managed to get him to sit and settle down enough to remove the headpiece and electroids from his body, having them fall to the floor with a thud onto the carpeted floor. He just stared, even a whisper of his name had his head cocked to the side like an animal in a state of confusion.

There was dried blood under his nails, hair greasy and filled with mud and- you didn’t think you wanted to know what else it contained. Bathing and feeding him was no easy feat, metal meeting flesh and red decorating the floor; but, you eventually got it done and even had him dressed in sweatpants that were a bit too tight and the cuffs raised to his mid calf. It would have been comical if he wasn’t so out of his wits.

The next few weeks were awkward, each time you tried to leave he would grab your arm and tighten his hold in an attempt to get you to stay, but you needed food and he needed clothes that actually fit him. He still didn’t speak, just low huffs and grunts. When he finally did speak, it was low and broken as if he had forgotten how.

“Lo… gan…”

The words confused you. Why was he saying a stranger’s name?

“Is he the one that did this to you?” You ask softly, swiftly sitting beside him on the couch. You received a shake of his head in return and another mutter of the man’s name.

“I don’t understand.”

He ruffled into his pocket until a small clink of metal emerged and he withdrew dog tags with the name ‘Logan Howlett’ engraved. It was his last name, but the first one made no sense. On the opposite side it read ‘The Wolverine’. Was that his army name? You had heard of getting nicknames when in service but had no real idea about it.

“You’re Logan?” You clarify, eyes moving from the metal within his palm to his own eyes, still wild but tamed for now.

You received a nod from that, signifying you were correct in your assumption. That would make sense why he had never acknowledged me when you had called him James. So, from then on you referred to him as Logan.

You try not to think about the time during which you helped bring him back to a state of humanity, finding out his memories were scattered and he held no recognition in his eyes other than finding the smell of your home, of you, familiar. You cared for him, allowed him a place to stay and took him with you until he suggested a RV bed for an old truck. With the stash of cash you had dwindling, not expecting to care for another person, you hastily agreed. From there you traveled. City to city, province to province, finding cage fighting bars for cash while trying to bring peace to Logan’s mind and retrieve the memories lost or stolen from him.

Finding Rogue was a blessing, even more so when Scott and Ororo had rescued you both. You had been given a home and a lead on Logan’s missing memory and a chance for him to be a part of a team. So, when he was given information on a location that might jog his memory and insisted he would go alone, giving you his dog tags as a promise, you held some worry of course, but knew that he will come back.

[silenzahra]

❤️ Where is my brother? 💚

⚠ BROTHERSHIP SPOILERS ⚠

This is basically a narration of the intro scene of the game, so as you can imagine, this story is spoilery for those who haven't started playing the game yet. Beware! ⚠

This might be a simple story, but the intro scene really spoke to me. Ever since I saw the first trailers, and especially, after seeing the looks the brothers exchange when Luigi saves Mario, I knew that I had to write something related to it. Just, those expressions resonated deep within.

So... here's the result! As a way to celebrate that Brothership came out a week ago today, I thought it'd be the best moment to post it. Since there are spoilers here, I won't be tagging anyone, but I sincerely hope whoever reads this story will enjoy it 🥰 And of course, likes, kudos, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome! 💖

As always, feel free to choose between reading this fic on AO3 or continue reading under the cut. Whatever you choose: get ready for some brotherly love coming your way! ❤️💚

(Needless to say but just in case: please do NOT tag as ship 🙅‍♀️)

❤️ Where is my brother? 💚

“Luigi?”

Mario walks through the green island where he’s ended up searching for his brother. Everywhere he looks he only sees trees, bushes, grass and more and more vegetation, and beyond, the crystalline blue sea, but no trace of Luigi.

Except, of course, for the visions.

It's not the first time Mario has seen his twin before him even though Luigi isn’t physically standing next to him, but it's been so long since the last time that Mario has been caught completely off guard. At first, in fact, he broke into a run towards him, convinced that Luigi had found him, and stopped dead in his tracks in confusion the second his brother vanished in front of his eyes.

When he heard him trying to push a rock behind him, Mario turned around, full of happiness and relief, and immediately set out to help him... only for Luigi to disappear again the instant Mario began to push too. The feeling of joy that had flooded him at seeing his twin deflated like a balloon that had just been stuck with a pin. Crestfallen, he could do nothing but repeat Luigi’s name, anguished at not being able to find him.

But then he heard his sibling once more.

This time, the voice came from the top of an embankment that Mario hurried to climb in a few jumps. There he found him again: standing at the beginning of a dirt road, Luigi was jumping and waving to him incessantly, excitement shining on his face.

And it was then that Mario understood.

These were not mere visions... but their brotherly connection guiding him to his twin.

After all, the bond they share since birth has always been special, intense, profound. It’s a bond that knows no bounds, that goes beyond what the mind can comprehend, that is not of this world.

It’s a bond that binds the hearts of both brothers with an unbreakable thread, stronger than any rock and more solid than the very ground their feet walk on. A bond that lets them know that the other is safe and well.

A bond that, since their childhood, guides their steps towards each other so that they can be together again as soon as possible.

After all, they’re not used to being apart for long.

So, at last having understood, Mario headed towards the path that Luigi indicated, ready to travel the distance between them.

His little brother, just as he expected, disappeared shortly before he reached him, but Mario didn't falter this time. He knew, he knows, that their twin sense was guiding him towards Luigi, and that, at the end of the road, there he’ll be at last: alive, real and solid.

On all those occasions, Luigi guided him by calling his name. Now, as he walks along the path that his brother showed him, Mario realizes that his heart is filled with relief as he remembers that Luigi's voice has sounded sing-songy every time, amused even, almost as if he were playing hide-and-seek with him. Maybe that's a good sign...

... Or maybe he's clutching at straws.

After all, Mario knows his brother too well to know that Luigi would never try to make a game out of a situation like this, in which, once again, they’ve been separated by accident and in strange circumstances. Surely, his brotherly sense is only trying to reassure him, as Mario, in fact, imagines, with a shudder that takes away all traces of ease from his inner self, that his twin must be terrified, anxious and desperate to find him.

Very similar to how Mario himself is feeling at the moment.

So he continues to look for Luigi and call him, on the lookout for any sign that might indicate the whereabouts of his little brother.

But, for the moment, nothing.

As he walks, Mario rubs his arm regretfully. Guilt pricks his soul and his heart shrinks in his chest. Why didn't he hold him tighter? Why did he have to let go... again? It's not the first time his sibling’s hand has slipped through his fingers and Luigi has ended up somewhere out of Mario’s reach. He should have learned his lesson by now.

He should have learned to be a better big brother by now.

Mario grits his teeth and keeps moving forward. He may have made the same mistake again, but he’s more than determined to make amends. The resolution to find Luigi takes up his heart completely and relegates guilt to a corner of his heart, though it doesn't disappear entirely, not by a long shot. They may both be grown men now, but Mario can never shake the feeling that Luigi and his well-being are his responsibility. He will always support his brother in whatever decisions he makes about how to live his life, and of course, he has unwavering faith in Luigi and his skills, but Mario, at the very least, will always see to it that his sibling is well, safe and sound, and will do everything in his power to contribute to his happiness. Always.

But, for that, first he has to find him.

It is then that Mario realizes that he hasn't seen any new sight of his brother for a while nor heard his voice calling him again, but that won't stop him.

Nothing could stop him from doing whatever possible to reunite with Luigi.

Looking around again, Mario notices that he’s reached an area of the island that leads to the ocean. And off in the distance, sailing across the mighty sea that surrounds him, he sees a huge ship, more like a floating island, which, however, also appears to be covered with vegetation. A huge tree stands out in its center, its leafy crown serving as a sail, and the figurehead appears to be a thick tree branch. Mario stares at it in the distance, amazed and astonished.

But then he hears something that startles him.

A scream.

A scream that sounds very similar... to his name.

That voice...

In a hurry, Mario runs to the very edge of the island where he is, wanting to listen better in case the sound comes again.

And indeed...

“MARIO!”

Mario gasps, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Luigi!”

Of course! If he hasn't been able to find Luigi yet, it's simply because they've ended up in different places. Again.

But that's about to change.

His twin sense has guided him there. He’s heard Luigi again, and this time he sounded scared, terrified. Mario's most primal instincts, those that push him to always protect his sibling from all evil, have been activated and run through the plumber's body from top to bottom, filling him with adrenaline and urging him to do something, to help Luigi in any way he can. What if he's in trouble? What if he's been kidnapped? He couldn't bear the thought of his little brother being captured once again, and because of him too. Just like last time.

No, no way. He has to do something.

Without hesitation and with his twin’s desperate voice echoing in his ears, Mario steps back. For a few seconds, he just stares at the huge ship that continues to advance before his eyes, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched. Soon it will be nearby, and the time will come to bridge the distance between the two with a wide leap. He must time it very well and be very fast, for the ship is moving swiftly.

Showing a patience that he’s only capable of when it comes to Luigi, Mario waits. He doesn't lose sight of the ship for a second and counts down mentally to determine the moment when he should run. Almost there, he says to himself. It's not long now.

Soon he’ll be able to see Luigi again, and he’ll fight against all odds to help him.

Mario takes a deep breath and positions himself on the ground. The ship is almost within reach. It's only a matter of seconds before it’s close enough.

So, without a second thought, Mario starts to run.

He does so with all his might, getting closer and closer to the gap that separates him from the island ship. The determination to aid his brother, to make sure he’s safe, governs his movements and makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

After all, Luigi sounded scared.

He needs him.

He needs his big brother in the same way Mario needs his little brother.

Mario reaches the point where the island he is on ends and leaps.

His jump is high and forms an arc in the air, as always. He’s more than used to making jumps like this, both in his many solo adventures and in those in which his beloved brother has accompanied him.

The ship is nearing. Mario heads for it at full speed in the air and stretches out an arm to cling to the edge as soon as he reaches it...

But then he notices two things.

The first is that, being a ship, it has continued to move. It’s no longer so close to the island from which Mario leapt seconds before.

The second is that, therefore, his jump is not as high as he expected it to be.

He hasn't timed it right.

He's not going to make it.

He's going to fall into the sea and the force and speed of the ship will finish him off.

And he’ll never have the chance to meet Luigi again.

Mario panics. As his body begins to fall, as he watches before his terrified eyes how the ship slips from his grasp, he can only think that he cannot die without first making sure that Luigi is all right. He hasn't had a chance to see him since they fell through that portal, he doesn't know if his twin is okay. That was undoubtedly a cry for help. Luigi is in danger! How can Mario help him if he falls to his death?

“NO!”

Mario screams. It's not a cry of terror at his own impending death, but of frustration and rage. He asks only to be able to see Luigi one last time, to be certain that he’s all right, that he’s safe and sound, and then he’ll be able to move on.

He will accept his end with open arms if only he can know that Luigi is fine and well.

But, above him, Mario sees only the sky, a limpid blue, which begins to recede farther and farther away as he plunges to his death in the sea.

At least, he tells himself, the last thing his eyes will see before they close forever will be the vastness of the sky, which today seems to be clearer and brighter than ever.

And then, suddenly, fingers reach for his and a palm strikes his.

Unexpectedly, Mario finds himself hanging over the ocean. Some small stones fall around him, and he allows himself to look down for a moment, towards the roaring waters that were about to become his grave. He’s unable to restrain the mixture of terror and relief that takes over his entire body and soul as he realizes that he’s narrowly escaped.

He’s been very close to dying.

“Mamma mia...”

Mario's heart is still beating wildly in his chest, distressed at the proximity of death, when he decides to look up to find out to whom the hand that has just saved his life belongs.

His face immediately lights up as he notices the person that, leaning over the edge of the island, is silhouetted against the crystalline blue of the sky. A hat, a moustache, overalls... An outfit very similar to his own, but in shades of green and blue instead of red and purple.

Mario is beside himself with joy.

“Luigi!”

His exclamation is full of relief and the deepest and purest bliss. There he is: his strong little brother, eyes closed, clutching his hand, making a visible effort to hold him and not let him be swallowed up by the waves.

And, above all, more alive, real and solid than ever.

Mario's soul begins to sing with joy — Luigi is fine! Luigi is well and real, and not one of the visions that have been guiding him towards his sibling.

And not only that, but he has just saved his life.

Mario owes it to his dear, brave little brother that he can continue to breathe.

In fact, this was all he wanted: to be able to see Luigi one last time, to check that he’s well, that he’s alive and not in danger at all. If now death were to take him out of Luigi's reach, if the sea were to claim him in spite of everything, Mario would be happy to let himself go.

But his younger sibling, much stronger than he thinks he is, clings to him with all his might, almost in desperation, and does not seem to be willing to let death take his big brother away. In the midst of the effort, within seconds of hearing Mario call out to him, Luigi opens his eyes and looks directly at him.

The terror and anguish glistening in his eyes cut Mario's breath for an instant.

For a second, suspended over the edge of the ship, held only by his twin's fingers, Mario ponders how he himself would feel if the situation were reversed.

In fact... he knows all too well.

Before they ended up in that world that seems to consist only of a wide sea and a couple of islands, Luigi, in an attempt to flee from some bees that were attacking him, fell off a cliff in the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario almost fell with him from the momentum with which he rushed after him to rescue him, and he vividly remembers the fear he experimented, the horror that gripped his heart, as Luigi dangled from his hand, one step away from death.

Mario swallows. The anguish that invaded him at that instant hasn’t completely left him. He’s been so close to losing his brother that he’s sure that never, not even if he lived a thousand lives, would he be able to forget the panic, the terror, the horrible and sad prospect of living in a world without Luigi... and that it was his fault.

He could not bear it.

Guilt would not let him live.

His shattered heart would never recover.

And his twin's eyes, at this instant, scream exactly the same to him.

Mario can't blame Luigi for being afraid of losing him, for he himself would see his life end if death were to take Luigi from him.

Clinging to the edge of the island with his other hand, Luigi closes his eyes again and pulls Mario up, grunting from the effort. With only one hand, he manages to lift his big brother up enough so that Mario can grab onto the edge of the cliff with his free hand and pull himself up. With their combined strength, Mario finds himself taking a small, unexpected leap into the air before his entire body is safely on the ground.

He only allows himself a second to catch his breath before he sits up and begins to turn around so that he’s sitting on the grass.

“Thank you, Lu,” he manages to say in the meantime, between gasps.

Looking at Luigi out of the corner of his eye with a tired smile on his face, he notices that Luigi, standing next to him, is silently watching him, trembling, his face falling apart, his eyes moistening. Mario barely has time to wipe the smile off his face before his twin, screaming his name with a mixture of fear and relief, begins to cry loudly as he stretches his arms out to either side. Mario turns his head towards him for a second before, with an exaggerated jump caused, no doubt, by the state of nerves in which he is, Luigi pounces on him.

Despite the surprise, a wave of sheer love and warmth floods Mario when he feels the arms of his little brother, his emotions always running high, surrounding him and holding him with a mixture of liveliness and affection that warms his soul and heals all the fear and anguish he’s experimented in the time he’s been apart from his sibling. Still crying, Luigi starts to rub his cheek up and down against Mario's, who, again, smiles, this time moved, and he raises his arms to return his adored twin's embrace.

“Oh, Lulu,” he whispers, soft laughs springing from his throat due to the tenderness that invades every corner of his soul.

There he is, next to him, always as concerned for his well-being as he is for Luigi's. His twin, his brother, his sibling, his other half. The person who balances him, who keeps him sane and without whom he could not go on living.

Mario has finally found Luigi and never plans to be separated from him again.

[rylem33]

The Cowboy Experience

I've been working on this one for a few days. I hope you enjoy. If you do, mosey on over to my blog (link on my Tumblr home page) and take a gander at the other 100+ stories I've written. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dusty road stretched for miles in front of Sam and Drew as they bumped along in their rental car, the sprawling ranch just coming into view on the horizon. It was a hot day, and neither of them could deny their nervous excitement.

“So remind me why we’re here again?” Sam asked, squinting through the windshield at the vast landscape. His tone was dry, laced with a familiar sarcasm that had become second nature to him.

“Come on, Sam! It’s an adventure!” Drew’s grin was wide as he looked over, excitement radiating off him. “When else are we gonna get a chance like this? A whole weekend as cowboys! The ad made it sound like we’d learn everything from riding horses to branding cattle.” He paused, noting Sam’s dubious expression, and shrugged. “Alright, maybe the branding’s not what I’m looking forward to, but you know what I mean.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. But I still don’t see why we had to come all the way out to the middle of nowhere for it.” He looked around, watching as the horizon flickered with heat. “It’s not like we’re exactly…fit for ranch work.”

Drew laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly why we need to do it! Just think of it, Sam. A couple of city guys, totally out of our element, learning how to rough it. Besides, how bad can it be?” He leaned back, brushing dust from his shirt. “We could both use a break from the daily grind.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m not exactly dying to get sweaty and covered in…I don’t know, hay or dirt or whatever. But I guess it’ll make for a good story.”

“That’s the spirit!” Drew said, giving him a light punch on the arm. “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the work…feeling like I’m doing something instead of just being on my computer all day.”

Sam shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I barely know how to tie a knot, let alone lasso a cow.”

Drew shrugged, his optimism unshaken. “You never know. This could be good for us. I’m just sayin’ to keep an open mind and all that.” He looked out the window as the gravel road wound them closer to the ranch buildings. “Besides, we don’t have to master it all. Just get a taste, you know?”

They both fell quiet as the main ranch building came into view, nestled between two old barns and a couple of wooden fences. The place looked rugged, like it had been there for a century and seen a lot more than two city boys could ever imagine.

“So, think they’re gonna go easy on us?” Sam asked, eyeing the impressive sprawl of land around them.

Drew snorted. “Not if they’re real cowboys, they won’t.”

They parked near a tall, weathered barn. The whole area was quiet, and the open field stretched far and wide, framed by mountains that gave the land a rugged beauty that even Sam couldn’t deny.

They stepped out of the car, stretching and taking in the stillness of the land around them. Sam felt an odd sense of peace but also an unease. He felt out of place. He glanced over at Drew, who seemed to be practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Okay, admit it,” Drew said, nudging Sam with his elbow. “You’re a little excited too, right?”

Sam shrugged, the smirk returning to his face. “Fine. A little. But mostly nervous.”

Just then, the loud creak of a door broke through the quiet, drawing both of their eyes toward the barn. Emerging from the shadows was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick gray mustache, a cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. He walked with a confident, unhurried swagger, his boots stirring up small clouds of dust as he approached.

He looked Sam and Drew up and down, taking in their city clothes, clean shoes, and the faint hesitation in their eyes. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. “Well, ain’t this somethin’. Couple of city boys out here tryin’ to be cowhands, huh?” He shook his head, smirking. “Don’t get many like you two out here. Tell me, boys, you even know the front end of a horse from the back?”

Drew laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Well, we’re here to learn. I mean, that’s why we signed up, right?”

“Right,” he replied, his gaze landing on Sam, who was watching him with a growing frown. “The name’s Hank and I’ll be supervising you two.”

“Just a heads-up,” Hank continued, “ranch work’s not exactly for soft hands and fancy talk. Out here, you’re gonna get dirt on you, you’re gonna sweat, and it’s probably gonna hurt. Think you can handle that?”

Sam’s frown deepened, and he muttered, “We didn’t come all this way to sit around and sip cocktails.”

Hank’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement or irritation, it was hard to tell. “Cocktails, huh?” he repeated with a mocking drawl. “Figures.”

Drew chuckled, a bit nervous. “We’ll keep up, Hank. Promise.”

Hank shook his head, muttering something under his breath. He looked back at Sam, then Drew, with a smirk. “You boys think you’re up for it? Alright then. Let’s see if we can’t knock some of that city slick off ya.” Reaching behind him, he pulled out two well-worn cowboy hats, holding them out with a flourish.

He offered one to each of them, looking them dead in the eyes as they took them. “Here. Maybe these’ll make men out of ya.”

Drew took his hat eagerly.  It was  broad and rugged, with a wide brim and a dark, weathered band that looked like it had seen its fair share of hard days.  He grinned as he pulled it down over his hair. “Thanks, Hank,” he said, voice laced with excitement. “This is great.”

Sam’s hat, on the other hand, was noticeably different. The brim was slightly narrower, with a lighter color that gave it a softer look. Sam held the hat with uncertainty before placing it on his head. It sat high on his head and he wondered if he’d drawn the short straw, or if Hank had done this on purpose.

Drew let out a small laugh, nudging Sam. “Hey, look at us! Starting to blend in already, right?”

Hank gave a snort. “Ain’t so sure about that. Those hats don’t make you cowboys. But, maybe, just maybe, they’ll remind you to quit fussin’ about and get to work.”

Drew chuckled, but Sam’s jaw tightened, and he met Hank’s gaze directly. “Thanks for the tip,” he said, his tone dry. The nerve of this guy, Sam thought. Just because they weren’t born on a ranch didn’t mean they couldn’t pull their weight.

Hank smirked, clearly amused by Sam’s pushback. He tipped his own hat down slightly, eyes twinkling. “Tell ya what, why don’t you start by hauling those bales of hay over to the barn,” he drawled, jerking his head toward a stack of hay bales. “A few hours of that, and we’ll see if you’re still eager to play cowboy.”

Drew looked to Sam, shrugging with a grin. “Guess we’re on hay duty.”

Sam sighed, his jaw set, and muttered, “Yeah, let’s get to it.” 

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

The morning’s work was rough, but Drew was determined to keep going. The sun was relentless, and sweat was already dripping down his back by the time they’d dragged the first few bales halfway across the yard. He glanced over at Sam, who was keeping up but looking more out of sorts with every passing minute.

Sam had paused to press a hand to his forehead, muttering something under his breath that Drew didn’t catch. His movements were off, like he was distracted or unsteady, and when he tugged at his shirt collar, Drew noticed something odd in the way he did it.

“You good?” Drew called out, hoisting another bale onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, brushing off the concern, though his voice sounded different. Drew tilted his head. It wasn’t anything obvious, but there was something in Sam’s tone that hadn’t been there before. He shook it off.

They kept at it, the sun beating down as they worked. Drew powered through, but his eyes kept drifting back to Sam. He couldn’t help it, there was something about the way Sam was moving that didn’t seem…right. His gestures, the way he stood, even the faint lilt in his voice when he muttered complaints under his breath.

At one point, Sam unbuttoned his shirt halfway, letting it hang loose. “This sun sure don’t mess around,” he muttered, and Drew froze mid-step.

The words were fine on the surface, but the way Sam said them was different. There was a faint drawl sneaking in at the edges. If Drew hadn’t been listening so closely, he might not have noticed, but now that he had, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Drew frowned, squinting at his friend. “You’re sure you’re alright? You’re talking kinda funny.”

Sam turned toward him, blinking as if he’d just woken up. “Funny how?” he asked, sounding as normal as ever. Drew started to feel like maybe he’d imagined it.

“I dunno,” Drew replied, shaking his head. “Forget it. Let’s just keep going.”

By midday, Drew couldn’t hold back anymore. He dropped his bale and walked over to Sam, who had paused to rest against the fence, his hip cocked slightly with one hand resting on his thigh. 

“Sam,” Drew said, his voice low. “You notice anything��weird about how you’re acting?”

Sam cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Drew, I think the sun’s getting to you,” he said. “You’re making stuff up.”

Drew frowned but didn’t push. The thing was, Sam didn’t seem to notice what he was doing. It was like the moment Drew brought it up, Sam snapped back to normal, but when he wasn’t paying attention, those little changes sneaked back in.

Before Drew could figure out what to say, Hank’s voice rang out across the yard. “Y’all takin’ a break already?”

Drew turned to see Hank strolling over, that ever-present smirk plastered on his face. “I figured a couple’a city boys might’ve lasted longer, but look at you,” he said, his eyes landing on Sam. “You doin’ alright there, sugar?”

Drew glanced at Sam, who stiffened slightly, his hand going to his hip in a way Drew couldn’t help but notice. “Just gettin’ used to it,” Sam said, his tone oddly sweet.

Hank chuckled, crossing his arms. “If you can’t handle a little sweat, maybe you belong in the kitchen, sugar.”

Drew stepped in, voice firm. “Hey, lay off him, Hank. We’re just new to this.”

Hank shrugged, unfazed. “Just playin’, son. Ain’t no harm in it. But if he’s gonna talk like a lady, he oughta get used to bein’ called one.”

Drew clenched his jaw, glancing at Sam. But instead of snapping back like he normally would, Sam just brushed his hair back again and gave a small, tight smile.

Drew stepped closer, lowering his voice as Hank walked away. “Sam, I’m serious. Something’s off. You don’t usually act like this.”

Sam just laughed, brushing it off. “You’re overthinkin’ it, Drew. I’m fine. It’s just the sun.”

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

The afternoon sun beat down on Sam and Drew as they hauled fence posts, sweat soaking through their shirts. The work was exhausting, every muscle in Sam’s body aching from the effort, but something about it felt different now. He couldn’t explain it, but the exhaustion wasn’t just physical, his mind felt off.

Sam paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “This sun’s brutal,” he muttered, his voice softer than he’d intended. He cringed slightly at the sound, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Almost makes me miss the city.” That sounded better, closer to his normal self.

Drew grunted in agreement, hefting another fence post onto his shoulder. “Yeah, no kidding. Can’t remember the last time I sweated this much.”

Sam chuckled weakly, tying his open shirt at the front to keep it out of the way. The motion felt instinctive, practical, but as soon as he caught the knot in his peripheral vision, something about it felt…wrong. He tried to brush it off, but the knot nagged at him, and his thoughts started spiraling again. He quickly untied it.

He stole a glance at Drew, wondering if he’d noticed, but Drew was focused on the post. Sam let out a quiet breath, relieved. Get a grip, he told himself, reaching for another post.

The longer they worked, the harder it became to hold onto that grip. His thoughts felt slippery, like they were being pulled in two directions at once. On the surface, he was focused on the task of lifting, hauling, and sweating under the sun. But underneath, there was something else. A part of him that wanted to move differently, to speak differently. It was subtle, but it was there, whispering at the edges of his mind.

“Sam,” Drew’s voice cut through his thoughts, making him jump slightly. “You okay? You’ve been kinda…quiet.”

Sam straightened up, forcing a quick laugh. “Yeah, just beat,” he said, his tone casual. “You know how it is….work like this’ll knock the wind outta anyone.” He grinned, trying to project confidence, but Drew kept looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You sure? You sound a little…I don’t know, off,” Drew said, tilting his head.

Sam clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m fine, Drew,” he said, a bit sharper than he meant to. But even as the words came out, he caught himself adding, “Don’t fuss over me, alright?” The softness in the last part of his sentence made his stomach twist. He turned away quickly, busying himself with the next bale before Drew could press further.

As they wrestled with a particularly stubborn fence post, Hank strolled over, his ever-present smirk already in place. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” Hank drawled, leaning casually against the fence. “Couple’a city boys finally gettin’ their hands dirty.” His gaze lingered on Sam, and Sam felt an immediate spike of irritation.

“Just tryin’ to get the job done,” Sam said, keeping his tone steady.

Hank’s smirk widened. “Looks like you’re finally gettin’ the hang of it, sugar. Just don’t strain yourself.”

Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks.  It wasn’t from embarrassment, but from the sharp stab of annoyance. “Maybe I’d do a better job at runnin’ this ranch than you, old man,” he shot back before he could stop himself.

The words came out sassier than he’d intended, with a slight lilt at the end that sounded nothing like him. Drew’s head snapped toward him, his face a mix of surprise and confusion, but Hank just laughed.

“You’ve got fire in you now, don’t ya, darlin’?” Hank said, his tone mockingly sweet. He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Might wanna watch that attitude, sugar. Could get you in trouble ‘round here.”

Sam’s hands tightened on the fence post as he fought to steady his thoughts. The fire Hank was talking about….it was there, burning hotter with every word. It made him want to snap back again, to say something cutting, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep quiet.

“You don’t scare me,” Sam finally said, his voice steady, though he could hear the faint hint of a drawl creeping in at the edges.

Hank let out a low chuckle, leaning back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, sweetheart,” he said, tipping his hat before sauntering off.

As soon as Hank was out of earshot, Drew turned to Sam, his expression serious. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning ignorance as he picked up the next post.

“You don’t usually talk like that,” Drew said, his eyes narrowing. “The way you’re acting, the way you’re talking.”

Sam forced a laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, his tone lighter. “I’m just messing with him. Guy’s got it comin’, don’t you think?” He tried to sound casual, but the way Drew kept staring made him uneasy.

Drew didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, grabbing another post.

Sam turned away, his grin faltering as soon as Drew couldn’t see his face. He let out a slow breath, his hands tightening into fists. Keep it together, he thought. This isn’t you. You’re fine.

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

The sun had barely sunk below the horizon when Hank finally called it a day. Sam’s muscles burned, and his skin was streaked with dirt and sweat, but the tiredness felt good somehow, like he’d accomplished something real. Hard, honest work. He glanced over at Drew, who looked tired but satisfied as well.

“Alright, city boys,” Hank said, smirking as he gestured toward the bunkhouse. “Time to wash up and meet me out by the fire. Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to take too long, princess,” he added, giving Sam a pointed look.

For once, Sam didn’t bother shooting back a reply. He just smiled. When he glanced over at Drew, he caught his friend staring at him with a confused look. Sam just shrugged, flashing him a quick grin as he turned toward the bunkhouse. He caught himself swaying his hips slightly as he walked. Stop that, he thought sharply, forcing his gait back to something resembling normal. 

Sam stepped into the bunkhouse, towel slung over his shoulder, his muscles aching from the day’s labor. The soreness was real, but it wasn’t the only thing he felt. He looked in the mirror and noticed his shirt was knotted again.  When did I do that?

Closing the door behind him, Sam let out a long breath and stripped off his sweaty clothes, tossing them aside without a second thought. The cool air on his skin sent a shiver down his spine.  He was filthy.  Nothing a nice shower can’t fix.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray. The water cascaded over him, and for a moment, he just stood there, letting it wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled slowly. But as the water streamed over his skin, he couldn’t ignore the strange sensitivity coursing through him.

He ran his hands over his arms, scrubbing at the grime, but the touch felt different…more intense. His fingertips brushed against his chest, and he gasped softly, startled by the sudden wave of sensation. What the hell… he thought, but his hands kept moving, almost on their own.

As he rubbed his chest, his fingers grazed his nipples, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through him. He froze, gripping the wall for support as heat surged through his body. His breath quickened, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Slowly, his free hand moved downward, brushing over his stomach, his hips, and lower still.

His skin was changing under his hands. As he rubbed along his chest and arms, faint patches of body hair slid away, clinging to his fingers before vanishing down the drain. His skin beneath was smooth and soft, impossibly sensitive.

One hand drifted back to his chest, fingers circling his nipples again as small, firm buds began to push against his palm. The warmth in his chest was undeniable, and as he glanced down, he saw the faint beginnings of breasts taking shape.

A sharp tingling sensation at his fingertips drew his attention, and he watched in stunned silence as his nails grew longer, the edges sharpening into pointed tips that glistened in the water. He flexed his hands, staring at the elegant curve of his new nails as they glided over his chest, tracing the roundness of his budding breasts.

His other hand moved lower, almost instinctively, brushing against his groin. The touch sent a wave of pleasure through him so sharp it made his knees buckle slightly. He steadied himself against the wall. His penis felt smaller in his hand, softer, and each stroke seemed to shrink it further. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, almost addictive.

The changes didn’t stop there. He felt a pull at his scalp, the tingling spreading to his hair. As the water poured over him, his hair lengthened, sliding down over his shoulders in soft, damp waves. He reached up to touch it, his fingers sliding through the silky strands, the sensation making his stomach flutter.

Sam’s mind reeled as the changes continued, spreading through his body like wildfire. His waist narrowed, his hips flared slightly, and his butt filled out, pressing against the curve of the shower wall. His stance felt different, his balance shifting as his thighs thickened, smooth and soft. Every touch of his hands sent shivers through him, and the heat building in his core made it harder and harder to think clearly.

No, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut as though that would make it stop. He shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts creeping into his mind. Thoughts that told him this felt good, that he should just let it happen.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his hands away from his body and gripping the edges of the shower wall instead. The water pounded against him, grounding him just enough to steady his racing heart.

When he finally turned off the water, he stood there for a moment, catching his breath. His heart was pounding, his body trembling, but the heat was beginning to fade. Slowly, he reached for the towel, drying himself off without glancing in the mirror. He didn’t need to see. He knew.

His chest felt heavier, the faint swell of his breasts undeniable. His skin was smooth all over. And though he avoided looking down, he could feel the change between his legs.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. Get a grip, he thought, clenching his jaw. But deep down the way his body hummed.

When he stepped out, clean and refreshed, his eyes fell on a small bench beside the sink, where a fresh outfit lay folded neatly…a snug, fitted top and a pair of denim jeans. He didn’t remember packing anything like it, but the sight of them didn’t surprise him. Nothing really did right now.

Without a second thought, he slipped them on, tugging the top over his head. It clung to him, accentuating his smaller waist and the gentle curve of his torso, while the jeanshugged his hips perfectly, sitting low on his thighs.  The pair of leather boots slipped on perfectly.

The wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat waiting on the counter, and he grabbed it, settling it back onto his head. He tilted the brim down slightly, flashing himself a confident smirk in the mirror.

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

Drew sat by the campfire, adjusting his hat and staring into the flames, his jaw clenched tight. His mind spun, replaying the events of the day. Something was happening to Sam and yet Sam didn’t seem to notice.  Or maybe he didn’t care. That thought made Drew’s stomach churn with frustration, though he couldn’t quite say why.

Footsteps on the dirt drew his attention, and when he looked up, his breath caught. Sam was walking toward him, silhouetted by the firelight, and Drew immediately felt his pulse quicken. Sam’s tied-up shirt clung to his waist, showing off a toned stomach, and his hips swayed in a way that Drew couldn’t believe he was seeing. He looked…Drew shook his head. No, this wasn’t right.

Sam settled down beside him with an easy grin, tipping his hat back slightly as he turned to face Drew. Drew couldn’t help but notice Sam’s face was different too.  Softer, smoother.

“What’s the matter, Drew?” Sam asked, his voice light, teasing, almost sing-song. “You act like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

Drew’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away, staring hard at the flames. “You’re not a girl,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Sam just laughed softly, clearly unbothered. “Are you sure about that?,” he said, his tone playful as he adjusted his hat.

Drew turned sharply, his frustration flaring. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped, his voice louder than he meant. “This isn’t funny, Sam. You’re acting like…like all of this is normal, like you don’t even care.”

Sam shrugged, running a hand casually down the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. “Guess the ranch agrees with me,” he said with a smirk.

Drew’s hands clenched into fists, the roughness of his skin scraping against his palms. He could feel his body tensing, his muscles tight. His thoughts grew hazier, sharper, and more heated with every second Sam sat there, grinning like nothing was wrong.

Before he could say more, Hank’s low chuckle broke the tension. “Well, ain’t you lookin’ like a queen tonight,” Hank drawled from across the fire. He took a slow sip from his flask, his eyes lingering on Sam. “That hat suits ya, sugar. Like you were born to wear it.”

Drew’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Hank’s words should have sounded ridiculous, but they didn’t. The way Sam leaned into the comment, tilting his hat and grinning, only made it worse. Drew’s frustration burned hotter.

“Maybe I am,” Sam fired back, his voice brash. “And maybe this place could use someone like me runnin’ things ‘round here.”

Drew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His best friend, the guy he’d known forever, was sitting there acting like this….like he belonged in this…this new role.

Hank chuckled, clearly unfazed, his gaze flicking between Sam and Drew. “Queen of the ranch, huh? Guess we’ll see if that attitude lasts. Thing about queens out here,” he added with a lazy grin, “they need keepin’ in line.”

Drew felt something snap. A hot surge of frustration and anger bubbled up inside him, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize the thoughts in his own head. Sam needed to be put in his place.

Drew shifted in his seat, the weight of his cowboy hat pressing down on him like it was part of him now. “Maybe Hank’s right,” he muttered, the words rough, almost growled. “Can’t go acting like you own the place, Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned back, completely unfazed. “Oh, really? And who’s gonna stop me, you?” His tone was challenging, daring, and it set Drew’s teeth on edge.

Drew’s muscles tightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe someone does need to,” he said, the words coming out with a strange, unfamiliar authority.

Hank chuckled again, clearly pleased. “Hear that, son? Your friend’s actin’ like she’s in charge. Might be time you stepped up.”

Drew wanted to laugh it off, to snap back at Hank and defend Sam like he normally would, but something in Hank’s words felt…right. He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a faint, tense smile. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, almost unrecognizable.

Sam laughed, bold and carefree, but Drew caught a flicker of something in his eyes. “You all can think whatcha want,” Sam said, throwing his hands up with a shrug. “I’m just havin’ some fun.”

That did it. Drew couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed himself up from the log, his boots kicking up dirt as he stood. His mouth set in a hard line, his voice sharp. “I don’t get it, Sam,” he said, his tone steady and rough. “You’re just acting like…like none of this matters. Like you don’t even care what’s happening to you.”

Sam’s grin faltered for a moment, but it came back quickly, more forced this time. “Guess I just know how to handle myself,” he said, tossing Drew a flippant look. “Maybe you should give it a try, cowboy.”

Drew’s jaw clenched as heat burned through him. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed off into the darkness.

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

Sam watched Drew storm off.  She knew her friend was upset, but had a hard time caring.  Instead, she tipped her hat back and watch the flames of the fire dance. Her body felt warm, but she wasn’t that close to the fire.

Hank sat across from her, his gaze moving over her with curiosity. “Ranch life seems to suit you just fine, doesn’t it?” he drawled, taking a sip from his flask.

Sam let out a low chuckle, her voice softer, smoother than it had been that morning. She could feel the changes in her body.  The way her hips felt fuller against the fabric of her shorts, the narrow of her waist. The way her top clung to her chest, and as she shifted, she felt the unmistakable weight of her now-full breasts.

“Guess it does,” she replied, tipping her hat with a confident smirk, the flirtatious edge in her voice surprising even her. She crossed her legs, feeling the softness of her thighs, the way her skin seemed to glow in the firelight.

Hank watched her, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Ain’t every day we get a queen of the ranch around here,” he murmured, as if he was stating a simple fact.

Sam didn’t reply. She just flashed Hank a smile, feeling his gaze follow her as she stood up from the fire. The night air was cool against her skin, but her body felt feverish, alive with a need that grew with every step back to the bunkhouse.

Each shift of her hips, each brush of her thighs as she moved, only intensified the sensation. Every inch of her body was humming as if it had been waiting to be touched, to be explored.

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

Drew stormed into his bunkhouse room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was tight as he paced the small space, boots thudding against the wooden floor. Anger coursed through him, hot and unrelenting, but underneath it, something else simmered.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam. About the way she had strutted up to the fire like she owned the place, the way her grin had practically dared him to say something. Her boldness, her confidence, her body. Drew shook his head sharply, trying to push the image out of his mind, but it lingered, vivid and consuming.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. His body felt too hot, too tense, like his skin didn’t fit right. He pressed his hands to his knees, taking deep breaths, but it didn’t help. The frustration inside him wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper, something raw and primal.

His thoughts spun faster, images of Sam flashing in his mind: the curve of her hips, the way her shirt had hugged her waist, the fire in her eyes when she’d talked back to Hank. It was infuriating, and yet… Drew groaned, leaning forward as his head sank into his hands. What the hell is wrong with me?

A sudden, sharp heat surged through his body, pulling his thoughts back to the present. His muscles felt tight, like they were straining against his skin, and when he looked down, his forearms seemed…bigger. His sleeves strained against his biceps, the fabric pulling taut.

“What the—” he breathed, standing up quickly. His boots hit the floor heavier than usual, and as he moved to the mirror on the far wall, he froze. His reflection looked…different. His shoulders were broader, his chest thicker, his frame carrying an undeniable weight and bulk that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Drew ran a hand down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle under his shirt. His hand was rougher, his fingers thicker, and as he flexed them, he felt a strange satisfaction settle into his gut. His shirt strained against his back, the seams creaking slightly as his chest expanded further.

“What the hell is happenin’?” he muttered, but his voice sounded different…deeper, rougher, commanding.

Before he could dwell on it, a sound from the next room caught his attention. A soft moan, muffled but unmistakable. Drew stiffened, his pulse quickening. He moved toward the wall, his breath catching as another sound drifted through…this one sharper, higher.

Sam.

. . . . . . . . .

Sam entered her room, shutting the door behind her with shaky hands. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her thrumming with an energy that was impossible to ignore. Her breathing was shallow, her legs trembling as she peeled off her fitted top and let it drop to the floor.

Her hands brushed over the small buds that had formed earlier, but as her fingers lingered, she could feel them swell, her flesh softening and rounding under her palms. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, both shocked and thrilled by the sensation. She cupped them fully now, the weight of her breasts growing heavier, the skin sensitive as her nipples hardened at the faintest touch.

She sank onto the edge of the mattress, her hands drifting down to her thighs. Her fingers traced over her skin, softer now, her curves more pronounced. She let out a soft moan as her hands slid further, brushing against the growing roundness of her hips, her waist pinching inward.

Her shorts felt tighter than they had moments ago, the fabric straining against her fuller thighs and her butt, which now pressed firmly into the mattress. She reached down, tugging the shorts off in a single motion, shivering as the cool air hit her skin. Her hands instinctively explored her body, gliding over her smooth thighs, the new curves of her hips, and the swell of her rear.  She squirmed with arousal.

As her fingers brushed against her wet slit, Sam gasped, the sensitivity there unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her back arched slightly, her chest heaving as her hand dipped lower, teasing the folds that were now fully formed, warm and slick with need. Her other hand rose to her chest, fingers circling her full, round breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her hips rocked instinctively.

. . . . . . . . .

The soft moans grew clearer, drifting into Drew’s room.He felt himself harden, his body responding before his mind even caught up. It was impossible to resist.  The sounds were pulling him in, and he couldn’t stop himself as he reached down, hand brushing against his erection. It felt thicker, fuller in his grasp, a surge of heat spreading through him as he stroked himself in time with each moan he heard from Sam’s room. 

. . . . . . . . .

Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her flushed face framed by hair that now fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her features had shifted subtly, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller, her eyes wide and expressive. It was the kind of face that turned heads, the kind of face that exuded confidence and allure. She couldn’t look away, even as her fingers worked faster, exploring every inch of her new body.

Her hips bucked as her fingers slid inside her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her. She moaned loudly, her body trembling as the heat built higher, her movements more desperate. Her thighs quivered, the softness of her skin amplifying every touch, every stroke, until the pressure became too much to bear.

She let herself lean into the feeling, letting her hands roam, feeling out every inch of this body that was hers.  She didn’t care how loud she was being, the boys could think what they want.  She was going to enjoy this night.

. . . . . . . . .

Drew’s strokes became synchronized with Sam’s moans, each breath and whimper guiding his hand. The walls seemed too thin, every gasp and sigh fueling his desire further. His muscles tensed, a raw energy pulsing through his veins with each breath he took. He could feel his arms tighten, his chest, his legs.

. . . . . . . . .

When the climax hit, her body arched, her head tilting back as a loud, primal scream escaped her lips. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, leaving her gasping and trembling as she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. 

. . . . . . . . .

The final, sharp cry from the other side of the wall broke him. Drew’s head tilted back, his eyes closing as a guttural groan tore from his throat. Heat surged through him like a wildfire, his body trembling as every muscle contracted at once. His jeans strained against his legs, his shirt pulling tight across his chest until he thought it might tear.

Drew sat there, staring at himself, his breaths steadying as a strange satisfaction settled over him. He was bigger now. His chest was broader, his arms thicker, his entire frame exuding a rugged power. The anger had melted away, leaving only the heat…and the lingering need to see Sam again.

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

Drew woke slowly, the morning light slipping through the window. His body felt…heavy. Solid. Good. As he blinked into awareness, he stretched, feeling muscles strain and relax beneath his skin, muscles he hadn’t had before. He felt…right in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Drew planted his feet on the floor, and the thud of his weight against the wood was audible. He looked down at his hands… larger, rougher, thick with strength he could feel pulsing under the skin. His gaze drifted to the mirror on the wall, and he rose, his movements sure and steady. When he saw his reflection, he couldn’t hold back a slow grin.

Broad shoulders, defined muscles, a rugged face shadowed with stubble. All of it looked back at him with a natural confidence, a swagger. As he took himself in, thoughts rose, unbidden and clear of long days of work under the sun, the satisfaction of hard labor, the thrill of chasing wild times, and, just as clearly, the tantalizing image of women watching him, drawn to him. Hot women, tempting him, and pleasuring him.

His mind latched onto these ideas with satisfaction. What else mattered, anyway? And one woman in particular drifted into his mind. Sam. The way she’d changed, the way she’d looked at him last night with that teasing, sassy edge in her voice.  It made his pulse quicken just to think about it. She’s mine to handle now, he thought, the idea lighting up something deep and primal in him.

As he glanced at the clothes draped over the chair.  A pair of worn jeans, a white shirt, sturdy boots, that were not there the night before.  The clothes fit him perfectly.  Last, he picked up his hat, settling it on his head with a grin. 

His mind drifted back to Sam, her laugh, her confidence, that bold look she’d given him. He wanted to see her. He wanted to see if she’d look at him with that same fire. He wanted to see what would happen next.

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

The morning sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the ranch as Drew’s gaze locked onto Sam by the fence. She stood there, her toned, tanned body framed by a tight, cropped top that barely covered her full, round breasts. Her midriff was bare, the curves of her waist and hips on full display above a pair of frayed, low-cut denim shorts that hugged her hips perfectly. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat shaded her face, though the fire in her eyes was unmistakable, and a teasing smile played on her full, glossy lips.

Sam turned, her smile widening as she saw him, her eyes traveling slowly up and down his body, openly admiring him in a way that drove him wild.

“Morning, cowboy,” she purred, her voice smooth and dripping with playful confidence. She stepped closer, her hips swaying, her hands casually resting on her thighs. “Didn’t think you’d be up this early, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Drew swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Good company’s worth getting up for,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, his pulse pounding as he closed the distance between them until they were just inches apart. He could feel her warmth, see the flush on her cheeks, and knew she was feeling the same pull he was.

“Good company, huh?” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Maybe I’m just here for the view.” She tilted her head, her eyes flicking over him in a way that made his chest tighten.

Drew didn’t waste time. He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek, his fingers tracing along her jaw. Her skin was warm and soft, her eyes widening slightly as she met his intense gaze. “I think we both know you’re here for more than that,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he traced his thumb along her cheekbone. He could feel her lean into his touch, her breathing quickening, her lips parting just slightly.

Sam didn’t pull away. “Maybe I am,” she murmured, her gaze locked on his. She raised a hand to his chest, her fingers pressing against him, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Without another word, Drew leaned in, capturing her mouth in a firm, hungry kiss. She responded immediately, her hands sliding up around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip tightened on her waist, his hands exploring her curves, feeling her hips, her bare midriff, the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Her body fit perfectly against his, their breaths mixing as the kiss deepened.

He pulled back just slightly, their faces still close, their breathing heavy. “That’s how I start a morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Sam looked up at him, her lips parted, her eyes dark with want. “Then don’t stop now, sugar,” she whispered back, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m right here.”

Drew didn’t need another invitation. His hand gripped her waist harder, pulling her tight against him as he kissed her again, harder this time, his hands sliding down to her hips, pressing her against him. Their shared passion built, and as they moved, he slid his hands up to the hem of her cropped top, tugging it over her head and tossing it aside, exposing her fully to him. She let out a soft gasp as he lifted her, guiding her back toward the nearby hay pile.

They sank down together, both of them fumbling to discard the rest of their clothes, each piece coming off in a hurry, laughter and heated breaths filling the air. Drew’s hands roamed over her bare skin, his lips trailing down her neck as he leaned into her. When he entered her, she let out a sharp, breathless moan, her hips pressing up to meet him, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him.

As their pace increased, her soft gasps turned into cries, filling the quiet morning with her pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer as she reached her peak, her body arching beneath him. She let out a final, triumphant scream, her whole body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Drew slowed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at her, his breathing heavy. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his hand linger on her cheek, savoring the closeness between them.

Sam laughed softly, her smile softening as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Right back at you, cowboy.”

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

The sun climbed higher as Drew and Sam worked side by side, shoveling hay and clearing out the horse pen. They didn’t talk much, but every now and then they’d glance at each other, sharing a quiet smile. Sometimes their hands brushed or their shoulders bumped, and each time, they’d grin a little wider, like they were in on the same joke.

Just as they finished, Hank walked over, a smirk on his face as he looked them over. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms. “Well, look at you two,” he said, voice full of dry humor. “Looks like you’re gettin’ a real, authentic cowboy experience around here. Hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Drew rested his arm on his shovel, his other hand slipping casually to Sam’s back, his thumb rubbing along the fabric of her shirt. “Wouldn’t trade it for nothin’, Hank,” he replied, giving Hank a steady look.

Sam laughed softly, tilting her hat back. “Reckon this life fits us just right, don’t it?”

Hank chuckled, tipping his hat to them both. “Well, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, the hint of a smile in his eye. “But there’s plenty more work to go ‘round, just so you know.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the barn.

As he left, Sam turned to Drew, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, still smiling. Drew slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close, his touch firm but gentle. They looked at each other for a beat, and then he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in an easy, unhurried kiss.

When they pulled back, they were both still smiling. For a moment, they just stayed there, holding onto each other before getting back to work.

[apricot-blossomss]

If you're still accepting requests would you be willing to do Hermes with fem!reader who has body image issues? Like not feeling like she's worthy of him or will hold his attention? I LOVED the way you wrote the last one of him stealing all of reader's stuff; no pressure tho if you don't want to do this subject. Thanks for your time! 💜🐝

☛ hermes x mortal! fem! reader with body image issues

☛ sfw; cw: body image issues, self deprecating thoughts, anxiety

It felt utterly unreal. The temples and palaces, shining in a golden hue, the impossibly delicious food and, most of all, the guests of the party. Was it a wise decision to have your first time on Olympus be visiting a divine festival? No. Were you utterly overwhelmed by everything here? Yes. Definitely.

A hand found yours and you turned around, startled, only to find Hermes smiling at you. His hair was uncharacteristically orderly, bronze curls framing his face carefully, not as disheveled as usual, after a day of work and flying around. "Hey sweetheart, enjoying yourself?" You nodded and hoped your smile didn't seem too forced. And it was beautiful here, just too much for your poor mortal eyes to comprehend.

It wasn't only gods attending the festival. When you looked over the crowd, you spotted centaurs, nymphs and satyrs as well, and even a few mortals like you, if you were seeing correctly. But the majority of the guests were major and minor gods and goddesses, though in their human form, still almost too beautiful to look at. Like Hermes in the beginning. But during the last months, you had seen him almost every day, and could at least look at him without having an an aneurysm- or a body image crisis.

Hermes squeezed your hand and you looked up at him. The excited grin he gave you had you a little worried. It was the grin of cream smeared in your face when eating cake and several items disappearing in strange correlation to his frequent visits. The god leaned down to your height - even in his human form, he was still a lot taller than you. "Wanna meet my family?"

No, gods, please, no.

"Uhm," you said, unconsciously fiddling with his fingers which always calmed you down. But he knew that, too. Hermes caught your restless fingers and brought them to his lips to press a light kiss onto them. "You don't have to. We can just stay here, if you want. All your call, baby."

Having lost the ability to fiddle with his fingers, you chewed on your bottom lip. When you looked back at him, your voice was thin and full of doubt. "I don't get- I mean, why would you want to introduce me to your family?"

The god's smile widened even further and he pecked the tip of your nose affectionately. "I want to show my amazing girlfriend off, obviously." You wanted to glare at him for messing with you, but he looked so earnest that you couldn't help but believe him. Instead, you let out a small and only slightly bitter laugh. "Show me off? Have you ever even looked at me, Hermes?"

"Plenty," he hummed, covering your cheeks and temple with kisses. "Why would I not look at my stunning girlfriend?" Embarrassingly, you realized that quite a few bystanders were giving you stares and whispers. Not him, he was a god. You. Probably wondering if the god's newest fling really was the ugliest girl at the party.

"'M not," you whispered, because you suspected some of these people had an excellent hearing beyond the limits of your mortal one. You put your hand over Hermes lips, but he only peppered your palm with kisses, moving up your arm to the ticklish spot and you giggled involuntarily. The triumphant smile he gave you was so utterly endearing you would have jumped him. If you weren't here.

"Please?" How were you supposed to say no to those eyes?

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting your decision. But Hermes was ecstatic, throwing an arm around you and guiding you through the crowd that made way for him wherever he walked. You tried to keep your head down and seem as invisible as possible, which, fortunately, wasn't that hard if you were standing next to a glowing diety.

"Brother!" someone called, someone the crowd made way for just as quickly, if not hastier, than Hermes. Your lover held you a bit more tightly but gave you a reassuring smile when a young man, decked out in gold that couldn't compare to the color of his shoulder-length locks, approached you. He ruffled Hermes' hair and then, his gaze wandered down to you. At first, he seemed surprised, no doubt because he was underwhelmed by your appearance, but the next second, he gave you a blinding smile. "And who do we have here?"

Hermes introduced you and then him as Apollo. The god huffed. "Do I really need an introduction? If so, I can give it for myself." You were a little unnerved by his smile, if was too bright, almost hurting your eyes. "I'm Apollo, god of all things beautiful and helpful to you mortals and thus, your favored diety."

"Spot's taken," Hermes said but he was grinning. With one look at your stressed glances, he leaned down to whisper: "he's harmless" You highly doubted that.

"So," the god drawled while looking you up and down. You were extremely uncomfortable. "You are the reason I've barely gotten a glance of my brother these last months." You were? Glancing at Hermes, you tried to think of the right answer. "Um... sorry"

"Where have you been hiding, Hermes?" a female voice called from behind and when you looked at the approaching you, your stomach dropped. It had to be Aphrodite, it had to be. Out of all the indescribably beautiful guests, she was the most striking and perfect. And the one you had dreaded seeing the most. You weren't stupid. You knew you were on the brink of spiraling into an abyss of body-hatred, and you were scared she would push you into it.

When she greeted Hermes, not even registering your presence, you suddenly remembered that they had had a kid together at some point, which only made your anxiety worse. You felt so utterly unworthy of Hermes in between all these gods that you wanted to carefully slip your hand out of his. Who were you to be holding a gods hand after all? But, realizing your intentions, Hermes only gripped it tighter. "Aphrodite, this is my girlfriend."

The way his voice was overflowing with boasting pride did warm your heart a little- until you saw the way Aphrodite looked at you. Surprised, at first, then undeniably sceptical. Her rose eyes looked you up and down and you started sweating under the weight of her gaze. Should you have worn something different? Was it ridiculous of you to be showing up in a dress this beautiful, attempting and failing miserably to be pretty? You were nothing but ugly and desperate and pathetic.

The goddess greeted you and you greeted back quietly, your flight instincts kicking in. "Hermes?" He turned to you, smiling brightly, but it faded a little when he saw the distress in your eyes. "I'm- I'm a little hungry, can I bring you something from the buffet?" Hungry. Great. Couldn't you think of a better way to get out of this situation? Not daring to look at the goddess, you kept your eyes fixated on Hermes who was searching your face for hints of what was wrong.

"Sure," he then said and leaned down to peck your cheek. "That cake looked fantastic." You were thinking more like drowning in misery.

Giving everyone a small smile and goodbye without looking at either of them, you slipped away as fast as possible. Getting to the buffet was way harder without Hermes, because the crowd got more and more dense, so you gave up and opted to break from it, finding a bench somewhere with less people. The buffet had never been your objective in the first place.

You couldn't cry. Not here. Not surrounded by the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Your gaze wandered over stunning nymphs and glowing goddesses with their perfect bodies and perfect smiles, looking so graceful in their flowing dresses. Why were you here? If you had been able to shed your skin right now, you would have. You would still be hideous, but not comparable to these women who you shrank next to.

Why were you here? How could Hermes endure your presence, knowing he could have so much more beautiful women instead, women who didn't get anxiety from parties and rudely ran away from him and his family. Women who laughed, and danced, and made other people laugh. Who were so much fun and so much more worthy than you. You were a nothing. A miserable, ugly nothing.

"Sweetheart?"

You didn't want to look at him. Instead, you opted to fix your gaze on a particularly stunning lady wearing blue. You felt longing well up inside of you. If you could only have her body, her face, her smile, her flowing hair. Maybe you could love yourself. Maybe Hermes could love you.

"The crowd by the buffet was to dense, I couldn't get through," you said quietly, not sure if he was still there. He was. Hermes sat down on the bench next to you and there you sat in silence for a few minutes. When you finally glanced over, you were surprised to find him fiddling with his fingers in his lap. Was he nervous? Did he want to break up with you?

"I'm sorry," you said. "Back with your family... that was so rude of me."

"What's wrong?" he asked and you were surprised at how worried he sounded. Finally, you looked at his face and his pleading eyes and your heart roared. Now you had made him worried. A great girlfriend you were. "Please," he said, getting a hold of your hands and leaning down to eye level. "Tell me. I want to help, but I'm not Apollo, I don't just look at someone and instantly know what they're feeling."

"It's nothing," you said quietly. "Just a bit nervous, I guess." He didn't say anything, and you realized he was waiting for you to elaborate. When you looked at him and saw the helpless look in his eyes, you felt yourself breaking and hid your face in your hands. "How can you even look at me?"

"What?" He sounded completely perplexed.

"I'm hideous!" you sobbed, stubbornly hiding your face away because you felt your hands dampened by tears. "I'm ugly and unattractive and unworthy and even attempting to be anything but that is an insult to all the beautiful women here. And I don't get why you are here with me, why you are with me after all, I mean- why would you do this to yourself? I'm not worthy of you, I-" Your rambling was interrupted by a desperate and tearful gasp for air but you hid your face away stubbornly.

"What?" His voice sounded thin and utterly confused. Then, you felt his hands on your wrists, softly prying them away from your tear-dampened face. You didn't have it in you to fight them.

"Listen... You are... better at this than me," the god said with a nervous chuckle. "Remember the time I was so exhausted I fell out of the window? And you ran me a bath and you made me get in and you... listened to my endless tired ramblings and laughed at my stupid jokes so hard the soap slipped out of your hands and hit me in the face? And then, you... made me go to bed and tell you what was really stressing me out and you just knew what to say. Like, the exact words to make me feel better. And I still don't get how."

Hermes breathed in through his mouth, fidgety but hopeful at the fact that you hadn't interrupted him yet. "Do you remember that hiking trip? I was wearing you out, it was probably too much for you, but you were so determined to get to the top in time for the sunset. And we did and you were so full of wonder. And sure, the view was amazing, but I couldn't look away from you because- I just couldn't. And I had planned to throw you off the edge and catch you a few meters down but I couldn't bring myself to do anything because you were so in awe and so beautiful-"

"I'm not," you said. "Have you even looked at-"

"Sweetheart, my eyes are in perfect shape," Hermes interrupted you firmly. "Yours aren't, because, apparently, you can't see just how beautiful you are. And how good you feel. How fun it is with you. Do you know why I am always so out of breath when I knock at your window? Because every second of the day I want to spend with you, all the time I possibly can, because it feels so right to be with you. So I rush and I show up gasping and sweating at your door and it always feels like coming home."

You were stunned. Could you believe him? How could you not? Hermes seemed to sense your conflict and you felt him slump against you. "Do you have any idea how many times my father has scolded me in the past months for being late to my duties? I don't care if you think you aren't enough. You've always been enough for me. You're more than that. You are in all of my dreams, always on my mind when I'm away."

He caught his breath. This was hard, but he had to convince you of the honesty of his feelings towards you, and he had to get all that crap out of your head. "I'm a god, why would I be with you if I didn't want to be, if I thought I could do better?"

"You can!"

"No, I can't!" he pressed, almost shouting. "No one makes me feel the way you do. Don't you see? You hold me in the palm of your hand, I'm yours!"

With widened and tearful eyes, you stared at him and his gaze softened. "May I?" You nodded, unsure what he was asking exactly. Hermes pulled you into his arms and you couldn't help but feel so loved when he held you tight.

"Can we leave?" you asked quietly and felt him laugh shakily against your shoulder. "Yes, let's get out of here."

Reluctantly, he pulled away and made you look at him. "Would you please believe me that I love you? Because I don't know what else to do. Do you want my shoes? My gardens? My palace? All my temples? I'd give them all to you, if you would just believe me."

"I think I might need a little while to get it," you sniffled quietly and in full earnestness. "I'm a little stuck here." You managed a small laugh.

The god looked at you with such tenderness you felt yourself blushing under his gaze. "Then I'll remind you every day until you believe me how beautiful you are."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[bristishbaddiesxox]

Still The One H.S.

.　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　 .　 ✧ 　. 　 ˚ 　. ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　 ˚ 　

One shot!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · . Summary : Mary goes out one night with her girlfriends to their local college bar when she runs into her now ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles. Alone on the balcony they talk about what went wrong and confess their true feelings for one another

-> 5.3k words

Warnings : this story is entirely fictional and contains Adult language, sexual scenes (smut), make up sex, intense arguments, drinking, smoking, etc... please read at your own risk

author's note: This one is long asf. I really hope you guys enjoy this ! this is my first one shot posted on here. This also is the first time I've published smut so... beware it might be super bad.

Tonight was the night everyone went out to the bars.Mary spent all her time doing her hair and makeup. Being a senior in college came with many challenges and the nights out with her girlfriends helped carried her through the harsh part of college. Being in pre-med came with many trials of difficult class curriculums. She was constantly stressing herself out, limiting nights out and skipping meals. She only just prayed that it'll all be worth it at the end. And now that graduation was around the corner, she finally could celebrate.

Ella had decided that they would go to a bar tonight. It'd be one of the last times that they would all be able to go to their college bar together before graduating. They were to all finally start on of the most important part of their lives and that was starting their careers that they spent the last four years working towards.

" I'm going to miss this so much," Ella sighed out while gluing on her lashes.

" I know, partying and being stupid drunk bitches," Mary replies back.

Ella and Mary had so many late night memories together. Ella was Mary's friend since freshman year. She was Mary's roommate since first semester of freshman year. They had been by each other's side all of the four years of college. Mary couldn't imagine what her four years would have been without Ella-- her twin-- her bestfriend.

" You know, what if he's there tonight?"

Mary looks up at Ella and shoots her a confused look, " What if who's there tonight?"

" You know, Harry. What if Harry is there tonight?" Ella shrugs beginning to put lipstick on.

Mary rolls her eyes, " Then he's there. It won't change anything."

Harry was Mary's now ex boyfriend. They had broken up over the summer and hadn't seen or spoken to each other since then. Occasionally, She'd see him on campus and avoid him. But overall, Mary went to the extent to keep Harry out of sight and out of mind. She couldn't sit hung up about their now past relationship.

" Would you ever get back together with him if time was right and you guys were on good terms?" Ella asks while taking a sip of her seltzer.

Mary shook her head, " I don't think so. I've gotten over it and he's for sure over it. I've been seen him with this new girl anyways. We're not going back."

Ella just slowly nodded. Mary could tell Ella didn't believe her but decided on ignoring her anyways.

When Ella and Mary had arrived to the bar, they met up with a couple of their other girlfriends who also had brought their boyfriends. They waited outside the line of the bar squealing and shouting to one another about how great the night was going to be. Mary was wearing a black tube top and denim shorts. She let her dark brown hair fall over her shoulders and layered gold jewelry around her neck. As they waited to enter the bar, all Mary could think about was what if Harry was here? Harry and her had always went to the bar together. She would remember how they would end the night at his place having the most drunken yet steamiest sex. Now he's probably doing everything they did with someone new.

The bouncer lets them in and immediately they make their way to the bar. First round was on Maddie's Boyfriend who had bought shots for the whole group.

" For my future doctor and wife, Maddie!" He cheers.

Everyone lifts their shot glass up and cheers on Maddie for getting in to med school.

Mary waves down a bartender and asks for another round of shots for her group. She also demanded for a Vodka Redbull . Ella then calls for them to hit the dance floor and dance to the music being played by the DJ. Mary hadn't had this much fun in so long. She was having time to enjoy herself and celebrate finally finishing her degree. Her arm was wrapped around her best friend Ella as they danced in the crowd. The whole night they shared laughs and took videos and pictures of each other being plastered drunk. Together they ran laps around the bar talking to different guys who had offered to buy them a shot . Mary came to realize how fun it was to be single. She could do whatever she wanted without having to worry or think about anyone else. All she had was herself to enjoy the night away.

Mary and Ella had been playing with each other and these two guys that they found at the bar. Mary could barely keep her balance but she still wanted to carry through the night. Her body was numb and her head hung dizzy. As she stumbled back she felt a cold drink splash onto her back and a glass hit the ground. Her eyes widen to her surprise and she quickly whipped around.

" Oh my god, I'm so sorry!!" She cried out immediately grabbing napkins from the counter. She was too busy trying to clean up this man black shirt that she didn't even realize who it was.

" I'll buy you a new shirt, I'm sorry again," she apologizes.

His hand then takes hers. It was warm and soft.

" Don't worry about it Mary," a familiar english voice spoke.

That's when her eyes widened and her eyes met his—his green emerald eyes. It felt almost like a reel of everything in the past rushing into her as she stood there frozen. It was him. It was Harry. She felt the whole room fall silent and herself grow small while staring up at him. He had nothing but a soft smile while looking down at her. She blinks back to reality and takes a step back. He had still been holding her hand in his while she pulled it back to herself.

" I-um. I gotta go," was all she said while turning around and pushing past people.

She found her way back to Ella who was laughing along with the two guys they were hanging out with. Ella noticed how frantic and anxious Mary had became as Mary began digging in her purse. She reassured the guys before walking to her friend who clearly wasn't okay.

" Mary are you okay?" She says putting an arm on Mary's shoulder.

Mary shook her head 'yes'.

" I just saw Harry," she blurts.

Ella's eyes widen and her mouth drops. She almost lets out this historical laugh. It was for sure that Harry would be at this bar. Harry had gone here on multiple occasions even when Him and Mary were together. But she still felt for her friend who was still suffering a broken-heart from their relationship. She recalled the nights where Mary wouldn't come out her room and how quiet and depressed she was over their breakup. It was so many stages of heartbreak she wished to never see her friend suffer in again.

" Mary, we can leave if you want," Ella softly said as she was rubbing circles around Mary's back.

" No, I'm coming back. I just need air. And then I'm coming back and we're going to go back and dance," Mary slurred her words while picking up her purse.

"Okay, I'll come with you," Ella said going to reach for her bag. But Mary stops her.

" No! Just stay here. I need a minute alone and I'll be right back," Mary says shouting through the music and crowd.

Ella nods hesitantly. She wasn't sure if she can trust Mary being alone. Especially after just watching her down a Martini.

" I'll be back, I promise." She says pulling Ella into a hug.

Mary pushes her way through the crowd and climbs up a couple steps to head the balconies on the second floor. Once opening the door she is met with the breeze that brushed upon her. She finally could breathe. She walks over to the ledge to look over the city. Boston was so beautiful at night. She begins to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. But to her disappointment, she must have forgot her lighter back at her place.

" Fuck," she hisses to herself.

She goes digging in her purse once again. She didn't want to believe she left the lighter because she really just wanted to smoke. The night had gotten even more chaotic than she thought it would have.

" Thought you don't smoke," She hears the familiar voice speak again.

She stops digging in her purse. While rolling her eyes to herself she turns to face him once again. He was standing there, smoking a cigarette himself.

" I don't," she snaps.

He laughs as he makes his way over to her. She takes a step away to further the distance between them.

" Mary," He calls.

She doesn't look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze starting out into the city. Looking at him pained her. She remembered everything like it was yesterday. The day she watched his back turn and the door shut behind him. And he never came back.

" I'll light you one. It's just a small favor don't take it personally," he says handing her his lighter.

She looks down at his hand to see it was her old lighter. It had the initials H.S. On it. She wrote it on there for him. She sighs out and takes the lighter out of his hands. She held the cigarette in between her lips and begins to light it. And there she took the longest drag she could out of it.

She was in a much better mood now that she can relax and calm her nerves. Normally, she didn't smoke on a daily basis. She had quit after high school. She felt that she needed to better herself. But time after time she would smoke one just to settle her nerves. It would usually be after drinking all night which wasn't a regular occurrence.

" So, congratulations. I just want to say I'm proud of you," he says leaning over the rail looking over at her.

She kept her arms crossed and just shrugged instead of answering to his comment. Giving in would make her feel vulnerable— like she'd had given up on all the platforms she built for herself after she had healed from their past.

Harry understood it. He knew she was angry. He also knew how stubborn Mary was.

" Mary," he calls again.

She grumbled out loud turning over to him taking another drag while seeing the sight of her ex boyfriend.

" Stop, okay? Just finish your cigarette and carry on with the night," she barks.

He still approached her. Something inside his chest was burning and he was dying to let out whatever tension he had within himself. If he didn't tell her now he knew he would regret it like he did that night they broke up. He knew he messed up. He was the one to walk away and left her that night when he should have stayed and tried to work things out. He was always the one to a put up a fight and yet that night he felt short. And because of that, he dealt with days and months of not seeing her, touching her. He missed her more than anything and seeing her at the bar, hearing her say his name, he felt everything he had for her wash over him.

" Mary I miss you," he blurts.

She just shook her head staring ahead of of herself. She was still mad, he knew that. But now more than ever he wanted to fix things.

He walks over to her and grabs her shoulders whipping her around to face him. Her eyes widen and she threw her hands up and pushed him back from her. He hasn't seen her this physical.

" Don't fucking touch me Harry. You had your chance, now it's over. We're ov--"

" Don't--" he interrupts.

" Don't say that, please," his voice cracks.

" Then what do you want Harry? You left me. You were the one to call things off and now you're saying you miss me?" She scoffs before finishing off her cigarette. She tosses it to the ground and crushes it with her shoe.

" I know. I know I fucked up. I was drunk. I was stupid. I woke up the next day and realized how much I fucked up."

She doesn't say anything back. She was hugging herself as she bit her lip. And then she turned to face him as her eyes fell.

" Then why didn't come back?" was all she let out while staring at him waiting for an answer.

Harry knew he let his pride get the best of him. He knew in the end, he wanted to be with Mary more than anything yet he didn't go back because he was scared. He was scared she wouldn't take him back. And now it's been 6 months and he is far now too late to beg.

" I just thought you never wanted to see me again... like how you shouted it at me that night," he quietly answered.

They stood in silence letting the breeze brush past them. Mary just shook her head to herself, remembering the night it all ended: .　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　 .　 ✧ 　. 　 ˚ 　.　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　

Harry had came in the apartment drunk after Mary had texted him that she was tired of his bullshit. Harry was apart of a frat and made little to no time for her. It was exam week and she and him had barely spoken because she would spend all her time studying while he spent nights out partying. She wanted to support Harry but there were too many times he left her in the dark or did things that made her question her trust with him. It was until she opened her snapchat. She saw on one of his friends videos that a girl had approached Harry and her arm was around him. It made her even more furious because it was Katie Woods. Not only was she apart of the sister frat but she was the bombshell of the school. Mary only felt inferior to her whenever she saw her talk to Harry. Katie always found a way to talk to Harry and push Mary out.

" Mary, it was nothing okay? She was just there at the party and we only talked for 30 seconds it wasn't anything serious," He slurs his words.

Mary had her arms folded as she stared at Harry in disbelief. She couldn't believe the first thing he didn't do was apologize.

" You know what, I'm done. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you invalidating me about how she's all over you! And when there is a video of her arms wrapped around you, and you still want to deny it all!"

" Mary, I don't know how else to tell you that it's nothing. You're my girlfriend, you're the one I come home to every night, you're the one I want to be with," He sighs out reach his hands out to pull Mary close to him.

Instead, she just pushed his hands back and stood back. Her eyes were heavy with dark circles from hours of studying and staring at her laptop. Her hair was clipped up yet small strands hung loose. She was still in her pajamas from the previous night.

She turned and walked away with disappointment in her sigh. Where were they in their relationship? They were constantly arguing, he was falling short not coming to see her when she really wanted to. And when she went to go out and eat he was always late. What happened to them? She wanted to know where did everything start to fall apart?

" You don't believe me," he scoffs turning to face the other way threw his hands up to cup the back of his head.

" We've been together for nearly 3 years now, what makes you not trust me now?" He snaps.

Mary knew Harry was drunk but never has she ever seen him angry while drunk. Harry didn't often get angry around her. He always was composed and when they did argue he never rose his voice. But she can sense with this argument he was a lot more angrier then he ever had been.

" You never answer my calls," she says quietly. She felt like passing out.

" I'm not constantly sitting around. I don't have my phone and my laptop on me like you do at all times."

And this time, Mary too was losing patience. It takes one simple thing to ruin it all and she let Harry do multiple.

" You know what Harry, fuck you. Go back to your frat and this time you can go back without a girlfriend!" She barks.

That's when Harry's eyes widen at her response. He was very much even more provoked than he initially was. And Mary wanted to keep pushing him. She was tired of being the one who felt hurt, neglected, and always having to forgive Harry for his mistakes.

" I'm sick of this. You never even text to check on me. You give me the most simple dry responses. I'm so fucking stressed and tired and my boyfriend, someone I want to just simply acknowledge me can't because he doesn't want to take a simple 5 minute break to text his long-term girlfriend." She hissed.

" You know what, I'm sick of you always blaming me. It's always my fault when things don't go your fucking way Mary. It's not like I do this all the damn time. Most days, I'm with you! I do everything with you and I. always. choose. you." He shouted back.

Her hands were clenching her hair as if she were about to go insane. She was just going to go in circles with Harry because he was drunk and was more angry than he could think at the moment.

" You know what. Get out." She says pointing at the door.

" What?" He says tilting his head looking at her in disbelief.

" Get. out. I don't want to see you tonight." She grits through her teeth at him.

" No, I'm not fucking leaving," He protests.

" Harry I can't do this right now! you're fucking drunk, you reek of alcohol!"

" Holy shit Mary, fine you don't want to see me then that's fine," he says throwing his hands up in defeat and walking out the door.

As she hears his foot steps fade she hears a buzz. It was his phone that was on her dresser. She walks over to pick it up so that she can give him his phone. When the screen lit up it showed her the contact. It read Katie. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. She felt her eyes water and tears fall down her cheeks. Never in a million years did she suspect that Harry would cheat on her. But the messages she read proved her otherwise.

Katie: Where did you go?

Katie: She doesn't have to know.

Harry walks back into the room mid sentence about to grab his phone until he saw Mary's face.

" Babe, wh- what happened?" he says approaching her.

She throws his phone at him and begins shoving him out of her room.

" Get the fuck out. I can't believe you right now!" she cries out through her tears.

" Mary! Please calm down what the fuck happened?" He says picking up his phone as he held his hand out for her to stop.

" She's fucking text you? Asking where you are? What is it that I don't have to know Harry? "

Harry looks down dumbfounded by the messages. He knew what the text were for but Mary had already taken them personally and was far more angry than she already was.

" Mary, it's not what you think," he says trying to calm her down but she wouldn't budge.

" No, don't fucking touch me. Get the fuck out Harry."

She was now repeatedly pushing him to the door.

" Mary-"

" Get out Harry! I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you or see you ever again," she sobbed.

" You know what. fine! You won't see me again. We're done." he shouted at her before simply turning and walked out the door.

Mary just slumped to the ground and sobbed. Harry was gone. Harry left. She didn't know what to do. she didn't know what to feel. Her body was riddled with so many emotions that all she could do was cry out her pain.

 After that night, Harry didn't call nor text her. She starred at her phone endlessly. She wanted to say something but in reality she shouldn't be pushing for Harry to reach out to her. Maybe he really meant what he said to her that night. And for days after this she just had to push through and heal from all of that night... .　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　 .　 ✧ 　. 　 ˚ 　.　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　 .　 ✧ 　. 

 Mary closed her eye to the thought of that night. That night was one of the biggest fights they had ever had. She remembered the days that came after it. She had a hard time sleeping and eating. She struggled to get through her classes. She hated being anywhere but her bedroom where she could hide away and sob her feelings out.

Harry recalled the days after the fight too. Each time he walked passed her building trying to build to courage to walk up and say he was sorry. But he couldn't. He didn't believe he could after what he did to her. He knew he treated her so unfairly. And that was apart of what held him back -- his guilt.

" I'm sorry," he suddenly blurts.

" I'm sorry for being so fucking stupid. You were going through a lot and I just downplayed it. I took everything for granted when I shouldn't have. I-I blew it. I ruined it all because I was being selfish," he says as he was now closer to her than he initially was.

She didn't back away, she just looked up at him.

" It's been six months and you're still the one," he continued.

" You're the one--"

He was suddenly cut off by Marys hands pulling his face down to kiss him. His hands naturally go to cup her cheeks as he deepened their kiss. It was as if it's been years and he had been craving to feel her lips again. He kissed her hungrily, tasting every bit of her that he had missed. And when they pulled away, he could see the tears in her eyes.

" And I should have told you I wanted you back," she says beginning to cry.

Harry didn't hesitate to pull her into his embrace. She cried into his chest while his chin rested on the top of her head. He held her tight, so tight that she wouldn't be able to push herself away. Harry wasn't going to lose her again. He wasn't going to let her leave. This night and from this day forward, he was going to put up a fight. Because in the end, he couldn't be without Mary. She was the love of his life.

Harry had brought Mary back to his place since he had moved out of his previous apartment with his frat roommates. He now had lived alone. Mary trailed behind him with their hands still interlocked. He couldn't help but to smile to himself. Mary smelled of perfume and alcohol but to him he was happy that she was out and enjoying herself. She looked a lot happier.

" So this is my flat. It's just me who lives here," He says holding his arm out to gesture to his living room.

Mary laughed, " I like it, it's so you."

There was a moment of silence while he stood grinning over at Mary. She was finally at his place. She was finally talking to him. He just had to get her back into his life.

" And I just need you in it," He smirks, pulling Mary into a long, passionate deep kiss.

Her arms go to wrap around his neck as she kissed him back. Slowly, they step into his bedroom not breaking their kiss. She dropped her bag on the ground. He tossed his coat to the side. She quickly took off her coat and he pulled the hair tie that held her hair up gently out. Soon they were back all over each other. Mary hadn't felt Harry's hands all over her in so long that she was getting slightly impatient. She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. Harry was eyeing the black sheer lacy bra that she had on.

He picked her up and planted her onto of his dresser, leaving wet soft kisses from her neck, trialing down right above her most sensitive part. His hands pull the denim shorts down and he felt himself twitch the lacy black thong she had on. She sat there with her legs slightly parted, eyeing Harry as she waited for his next move.

He then stood in between her legs, and planted his lips onto hers as his hand went down to rub the thin cloth that separated her most vulnerable spot and his fingers. She lets out a deep moan into their kiss as Harry let his fingers play with her. For a second, she had to moan into the crevices of his neck as her hand went down to rub against his now harden bulge. He then wiggled his fingers in between her thong and let them slip into her, causing her to dip her head into his neck again and let out a cry. He went slowly in and out, kissing her on her neck, kissing her on her forehead and lips.

Mary can feel herself edge closer. She was going insane with how much she wanted Harry to ruin her. She so horny that she felt that she needed more than just his fingers inside of her. She wanted more. She wanted to be ruined with her makeup smeared everywhere. Inside her head she knew that no one else could make her feel the way Harry made her feel.

" Harry please," She's breathes.

" Please what baby?" He says while looking down at her while increasing the way his fingers flowed in and out of her.

" Please fuck me!" She cries out as her hands go to clutch onto his shoulder.

" Tell me how, how do you like it baby?" He smirks down at her as his fingers were nearly soaked at how wet she was for him.

" Like, like how you would bend me over and pound into me, I want- I want you to fuck me hard Harry," she struggles to say as she was feeling her body grow weak to his touch.

Harry pulled his fingers out and pulled her in for another kiss while unclipping her bra and tossing it to the ground. He eyes her first while watching how her hair fell right on top of her breast and hardened nipples. He then picked her up from the dresser and threw he onto his bed. He slowly goes to pull her lacy thong down exposing all of her to him. He crawls on top of her, beginning with a long passionate kiss to her lips and then trailing all the way down to her cl!t. He began to paint her with his tongue. To him, she tasted sweet like honey, sweet and sour like oranges. Mary felt this euphoric feeling travel up her as her hands were buried in his curly locks.

" Yes Harry! Just like that!" She moans out.

Harry pulls away, now unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall to his ankles. He kicks them off before pulling down his boxers to reveal and long hardened cock.

He climbs over Mary and aligns himself at her entrance. And places a couple more kisses on her lips while rubbing the tip of his length in between her folds. And that's when he pushes himself in and Mary lets out a loud moan. Slowly he goes in and out, letting her adjust to him. They both were panting, breathing out hot breathes as he thrusted into her. Her hands were clenching his back as his strokes were slow but went in deep. Each thrust, she felt this high that made her bite her lip and moan out each time. Something that she never forgot about Harry was that his sex was pure ecstasy. She was feeling all kinds of highs whenever he fucked her.

Harry didn't quicken his pace and her eyes rolled back as she whimpered. He kept it slow and intimate all while planting long firm kisses on her lips and feeling the vibrations of her moans travel through him. Mary meant the most to him and he wanted her to feel that. Each thrust he poured all his love for Mary. Seeing her unveiled and watching her unfold under him, it made him feel at the top of the world. His hand rested on her hips when ever he would thrust harder just to hit the right spot. She was a moaning mess and he thought it was the hottest thing.

Together they were going to reach their highs. Her legs began to convulse and she was now shaking underneath him. He was letting out deep groans and raspy moans as he began to pound into her. The bed began to bang against the wall and Mary was letting out a high pitched whimper.

" Fuck, I'm going to cum," Harry growls

And once it finally hit, he felt himself collapse onto of her, slowly and sloppily thrusting into her. He kissed her and brushed her hair back as she came down for her high. He held her close until her body relaxed. And when they finally settled, he pulled out and got out of the bed to go to the bathroom.

Mary was still slumped and recovering from the intensity of her orgasm. But she watched Harry as he cleaned up and grabbed a towel. When he came back, he helped her wipe herself before getting back into the bed with her and pulling her to lay against his chest.

They laid in silence against each other as his hands brushed through her hair. He smiled at how messy it still was from their night of fun.

" Mary?" He called out.

" Mm," was all she replied back.

" That night Katie Texted, she texted me about her friend who she didn't want know that she was out that night. I was initially was suppose to give her and Damien a ride, they had been seeing each other. But I got the text and rushed over to you instead."

Mary looked at him, almost with guilt in her eyes. She knew she should have listened to Harry that night. They both should have listened to each other.

" But it doesn't matter, I didn't listen to what you had to say and how you felt. I was a shitty boyfriend and it was no wonder you thought that after the video. But just know Mary... I love you and I'd never do that to you."

She smiled and pulls him down to give him a kiss. She still loved Harry all this time. Even if she kept denying it she knew deep down she wouldn't have been able to push Harry away again.

" I quit the frat, I've focused on school, I got this internship at a publishing firm. I've changed Mary believe me. I changed in hopes that I'd see you and you'd come back..." he trails

Her hand goes to cup his cheek and leans in to peck his lips.

" We'll just have to start over and work things out," she simply replied.

He smiles and plants another kiss on her lips. They continued to make out, their hands cupping each other's cheeks.

" We going for round two?" she asks in between their kiss.

Harry pulls away laughing while putting her to have her sit on his lap.

" Will you be able to walk tomorrow?" He says interlocking their hands.

" I have nothing to do tomorrow, we can stay in bed all day," She grins.

Without hesitation he throws her down back on the bed and began to shower her with kisses.

" I'll be more gentle this time." he smirks. 

From then on, the past was past. Living is to forget. Being able to forget is to learn. Harry and Mary took time to understand each other more and chose their priorities for one another. In the end, Harry was more than happy to be able to call Mary his girlfriend once again. 

[rosakuma]

Hey you, yes you random tumblr user who hopefully so happens to get this post on their timeline.

🫵😐

I have a question for you. Do you like a show about magical creatures who grant your every wish? A show about a pair quite strange that are a funny duo as they try helping out a girl who just moved to a new city feeling all alone? A comedically fun show with a surprisingly good life lessons and a fun cast of characters that bounce off each other well? Along with some good representation of both POC and LGBT groups. A show with strangely enough entertaining drama between two 10 years old that’s makes you go “Awww the sillies” and “NOOOOO WHY MUST THIS HAPPEN TO THEM!? *sobs* “ that tugs at your heartstrings? Not to mention Daddy Issues~✨ A show with a lovable black girl protagonist who cares about others as she tries putting others first, has a wild imagination of ideas, goes through internal struggles about herself and what others think of her, and loves rocks and French fries also maybe autistic coded too?

Well do I have the show for you!

Comso, Wanda if you please?

That’s right folks! The reboot/sequel to the classic nicktoon show The Fairly Oddparents : A New Wish is out right now internationally on Netflix! And you can check it out to see the fun adventures of Hazel Wells, a 10 year old girl who recently moved to a new city with her parents away from her older brother who was her best friend she rely on, but now is off to college. To which Cosmo and Wanda, two fairy godparents, who decided to come out of retirement to help her out with dealing with her new environment and situations she’ll get herself into.

It also is the show with that purple guy with swirly hair you’d seen on tumblr before? That’s right, Peri!

If I was able to peak your interest on the show, please go check it out on Netflix! And only watch it on Netflix as the show’s fate to get a second season depends on the views on Netflix for it to be greenlit for one. So no pirating and if you don’t have Netflix to be able to watch it, spread the word! To help get this show a second season is to help the talented crew members who work hard to deliver such a charming show that is a wonderful and fateful continuation of the OG it’s based off. Along with a win for animation since it’s been hard in the animation industry as of right now with animators, editors, storyboard artists, writers, and others in this industry struggling to be able to continue working on projects they love that also is their source of income. So be willing to lend a hand to help out to those people the best you can so that they can continue to have work and make fun shows like this one! Also it determines the fate of a certain character to hopefully get a happy ending and a good redemption arc plz my child deserves a second chance

Also here’s some advices for when watching A New Wish:

Try watching an episode or two a day. Putting it on loop too much might make seem not real viewers are watching and the views won’t count. Plus it be boring to speed through the first half of the season.

Try rewatching the show from time to time. Maybe watch it with a friend or two. Or perhaps a family member who enjoyed the OG show. Watch it with your dog maybe too!

Despite the show being out and most of the stuff being talked about already, keep talking about it to spread the word online! Any socials like tumblr, instagram, twitter, blue sky, tik tok you name it!

Also don’t post spoilers for any new viewers you see around. It’s more fun for them to experience first hand.

Alrighty, I shall take my leave now, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy FOP ANW!

[darkoies]

— bot release

art donaldson — late night call

art is heartbroken after a fight with tashi leads to their breakup, leaving him feeling heartbroken and alone. unable to process his emotions, he ends up in the middle of nowhere, calling for your comfort.

chris sturniolo — long distance

after years of talking with chris online, never seeing face to face, you finally found time to meet, and now you’re making your way through the airport, excited to finally see him in person.

jonathan byers — the smiths

the quiet guy from your class works up the courage to talk to you after years of secretly crushing on you. you’ve only exchanged small talk before, but somethings different this time. it’s a simple, charming moment in the familiar setting of the hawkins record store.

matt sturniolo — sick day

your boyfriend, matt, is sick again and lying on the couch with an ice pack on his head, looking for comfort. you’ve seen this many times before, never failing to care for him, giving him your undivided attention, even now after so many years together.

rahh stranger things and sturniolo bots! definitely going to make more sturniolo bots btw i love them,, hopefully u guys enjoy these, i know most of my cai followers r there for mainly challengers so i made this art bot last minute to fee u guys a little something 😓 if u have any reqs for bots pls leave them in my asks!! next release will most definitely be a christmas release so pls look forward to that ^_^ i hope u have a good day thank u for reading!

[pixelatedraindrops]

Now that Yuma month is over; I’m curious! Which of my drawn prompts was your favorite? You can have more than one c:

Reply in comments with either numbers or specified descriptions.

Yuma Month tag

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[carcarrot]

do i really want to make individual drinks again

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[halfricanloveyou]

marvel movies are always: here’s a white dude superhero that’s literally just a male power fantasy. he’s super strong and he’s wearing a very boring spandex suit to show off his muscles. it’s all cgi btw. he has a best friend who is funny but also not as hot or strong as he is and said friend is always telling him how cool and strong and amazing he is. because he’s already perfect he will have no character development but he is allowed to get stronger.

okay now here’s his love interest. get this: she’s hot and under 120 lbs and she’s white or light skinned and has long straight hair and she wears make up (but not TOO much make up) and dresses but TRUST US, she’s not like the other girls. her main character trait is that she is easy to kidnap and needs to be rescued a lot. she will not have any back story or character development because she is hot and pretty so she doesn’t need it. all of her scenes will be cgi btw. she won’t be in any fight scenes but we’re gonna cgi everything anyways.

last but not least here’s the bad guy. something traumatic happened to his wife or daughter or whatever and that made him evil somehow. we’ll introduce some random side character to explain that. it’s gonna be a 3 sentence scene and then the bad guy will kill him because he is bad. he wants to kill everyone because he’s soooo evil and he kidnaps the love interest and scares her a lot but ultimately doesn’t actually harm her. his entire body is cgi btw.

okay so get this. the bad guy and the hero fight and a car gets thrown multiple times and explodes. then there’s lots of hand to hand combat scenes. sometimes people go flying. it’s all cgi btw. sometimes we will have stunt doubles for the hand to hand combat scenes but it’s still gonna be completely cgi.

for the plot the hero gets beat up by the bad guy but then he gets stronger and at the end he beats the bad guy up. hot girl is so impressed she falls in love with him instantly and then he says some one liner and she responds with a second one liner and then they kiss (no tongue for 20 seconds). then everyone else claps and the president comes down and is like “wow you’re so powerful and strong and you beat up the bad guy. do you want to be a soldier cop and join this hero club we started so we can make a second movie?” and then the hero says yes and delivers a witty one liner. btw the entire scene is cgi including the president. all of the outfits are also cgi to make them look like they got a little dirty and damaged after the fight.

the credits will roll and then after the end of them we will add in a scene where there is a new bad guy and the old bad guy is actually still alive. and then another strong cool hero guy will be there to set up the sequel. it’s all cgi btw including the second guy. we actually just took a clip from a different movie and put it in but we used cgi so it looked different.

it’s literally the exact same thing every single fucking time. the only thing they change is the actors. even the fucking fight scenes are boring and the exact same for every fucking movie. they aren’t interesting or funny or cool and i’m saying that as someone who LOVES watching fight scenes and action and gratuitous violence. everyone eats that shit up because disney made it so they don’t care if it’s good or not and then they advertise it so obsessively you are literally forced to constantly hear about it whether you want to or not. at a fucking JOB INTERVIEW one of the questions was “what marvel superhero would you like to be and why?” and if you say “idk cause those movies suck shit” you’re seen as not a team player, someone who doesn’t know how to have fun or participate in fun things.

fuck disney and fuck marvel and fuck corporate america. fuck trends and fuck societal expectation to participate in them or face ridicule and judgement that has real life consequences.

[nimblermortal]

Like scribe Tuesday, I've been in and out as needed. Including living with my grandparents for a time when I was unemployed and my mom was in [the] hospital, so I could be a little closer.

Later I bought my parent's house, my mom had a falling out with her landlord while renting, and she moved back in with her parents for a few months...

It's never too late, don't sweat it.

no judgements at all here. i was thinking about the possibility of moving out and wanted to know what age other people did

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.