#i just wanted to mess with my appearance a bit. whenever i feel low i always get the urge to cut my hair but i can only do that so many

[shiimmer]

cherry kiss

sevika x f!stripper!reader

warnings! pole dancing (if that can be taken as a warning), public sex(??), fingering, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, slight choking, cunnilingus, masturbating, hair pulling, dom!sevika, sub!reader, sevika is a bit mean but we love it, she gets called ma’am once

men and minors dni!!

no mentions of y/n, but reader is called by her stage name cherry

word count: 3.4k words (i got a little too passionate…)

ৎ୭ summary: sevika found herself in a strip club, only to end up getting a lot more than a simple lap dance.

note: wrote smut for the first time in years, and idk how to feel. excuse me if this is absolutely shit, i was sleep deprived every time i was writing this. sorry for any errors, english isn’t my first language. not proofread!!

it isn’t exactly the place sevika usually finds herself in. strip clubs are not her thing. she prefers action over mere watching, but today just wasn’t it. not even a good lay in babette’s brothel can save her sour mood, which is more than surprising even for her. she doesn’t even know why she’s here. she just needs a distraction, and she knows the quietness of her place would only deepen her stress, which is something she really does not want right now, no matter how well she can handle it.

so here she is, in a strip club, surrounded by cheap smelling perfume, neon signs casting some light around the dimly lit place. boasting laughter, cheers and all sorts of other noises she’d rather block out from men around her fill her ears as they watch women dancing on the stage and sway around the pole. sevika, however, is completely silent. almost eerily so.

she just watches. glares, more like as she sits in the booth, awaiting another stripper nicknamed cherry, as the announcer says. ‘silly choice of a name,’ she thinks. her leg bounces under the table, swirling the whisky she just took a sip of on her tongue as the curtain spreads open, revealing you, and her body goes still. it’s like a spell, and sevika isn’t quite sure what has her so mesmerized the second you appear on that long, runway-like stage, neon lights shining on your almost naked body, the way they enhance the confident aura you give out. her grey eyes are focused solely on you, almost as if she’s judging your every movement. from the sway of your hips, to the subtle bounce of your breasts in that skimpy red bra as you stride toward the pole and your fingers wrap around the metal one by one.

a low hum rumbles in the back of her throat, a mixture of curiosity and appreciation while watching you perform. you clearly know what you’re doing, that sevika can see, and it works. even on her. she’d rather die than admit it out loud to anyone, but you have your charm to you and she likes it.

it’s like she’s not even blinking, at least that’s how it feels to you. you notice the woman’s gaze the second you approach the pole, and how it never moves away, not even when she takes a sip of her whisky. your coworkers shared their experience whenever they left the stage, saying how sevika’s glare caused them to nearly mess up their performance. in all honesty, it had made you nervous yourself while you waited for your own turn. dancing before a woman of such power, it’s nothing like dancing for all those nobodies who salivate over a sliver of skin shown. but as you had taken a first step on that stage, with your gaze immediately falling on her, all of that vanishes into something else, something you just can’t explain with words.

you give it your all, making sure to give her the show she never forgets and possibly needs, based on the worn out look she wears on her face. your body moves to the rhythm of the same song you always have to dance to. the song you’re normally so sick of, now gives you a rush. you dance with newfound passion, happy to show off your skills and body to silco’s number two. you play with her, yet you give her the most of you. fingertips lingering on your skin a second longer as you caress your body, from your hips to your breasts. looking over your shoulder when you’re turned towards the pole, the corners of your lips twitching up when you bend forward, showing off your thong-clad rear. it’s all for her, and you are absolutely enjoying the attention.

the endless cheering and lewd comments from men are fully blocked in your mind, your goal as clear as piltover’s sky. you want to make this woman watch you until the very end, to have her gaze on you and you only.

and oh, does it work. sevika’s gaze does not move away from you even when your performance ends and you go back backstage, and you’re certain her eyes are focused on your thighs as you walk. the euphoria you feel after this dance was nothing you’ve ever experienced. for the first time since working here, you’re almost disappointed that you had to leave the stage. your theme song that usually drags on suddenly felt short. you want to give her more of you, all of you.

you sulk in your seat, fixing up your neatly done makeup. there isn’t any need to fix it, you just want to get your mind off of the woman, but it’s completely useless. her grey eyes pollute your brain, and you can still see them when you close your eyes. never in your life were you this desperate for someone, it’s almost embarrassing. you sigh and put the makeup brush done, pursing your lips together. you wonder if you’ll see her again, if you’ll get to dance for her just like you had just a moment ago. you would give her more than just a plain dance show, so much more.

your thoughts get abruptly interrupted by your boss, her voice loud and demanding as she calls out to you. all you can do is hold back an eye roll and get up from the chair, making her way over to her with a look that can only be described as ‘i don’t get paid enough for this.’

“you’re expected in the vip salon,” she bites, her wrinkles crinkling under that heavy layer of makeup. “it’s a very important guest. don’t fuck it up.”

she taps your chest with her point finger, long nail stabbing your skin, and leaves the backstage. you watch her arrogant stomp, scoffing under your breath as soon as she’s far enough from you to not hear it. she calls every guest important, even the scummiest man in zaun is a ‘special guest.’ you know why she says it, she wants you to do your best, to not embarrass her brand, but it quickly gets annoying than encouraging.

your heels thump against the floor as you walk slowly to the salon, your mind running at full speed. you can only hope it’s sevika, but a part of you doubts it. there is no way she liked your performance so much she’d pay for private dance, right?

oh, how wrong you were.

the second you open the fluffy curtain, you’re met with those same steel eyes, belonging to none other than sevika. you eye her up and down, taking in the way she sits on the couch, her muscular thighs spread open and her exposed arm thrown over the backrest. you linger on the bare part of her lower stomach, abs peeking out of the crop top and v-line disappearing under the waistband of her pants. it’s a downright sinful sight, almost picture worthy.

“i didn’t pay for you to just stand there, did i?” her deep voice catches you off guard, and your eyes travel back up to her face. she’s smirking at you, fully aware of your gawking.

you can only pray to janna to survive this dance, secluded in a small room with this dangerously sexy woman.

“right. sorry,” you give her a small apologetic grin while walking to the small music box in the corner to tune in a song.

your hands are shaking a little, but it’s hardly nervousness. it’s excitement, anticipation, maybe even a hint of arousal. your blood is running hot, and you can feel a kick of energy, as if dosed on shimmer. none of your customers made you feel this way, but her.

your hands are already wrapped around the silver pole with your back facing her, ready to move to the music until her voice echoed in your ears.

“come here.”

your whole body stiffens, the music blocked out in your mind. being a stripper for years, never had you actually danced in front of a client. it’s sort of a rule for you; just watch but no touch, but when it comes to sevika, you are more than ready to forget it all just to please her. you pull yourself away from the pole and walk up to her, hands running over your sides. her eyes never leave your face and, by the gods, shivers run down your spine in waves, running all the way between your legs.

three more steps, and you finally stand between her spread thighs, and only now that you stand so close you notice just how damn thick they are. she looked better up close, no art or photo of her could do her justice, that you are sure of. a smirk makes its way on sevika’s lips as she watches your hips sway, your fingertips tap and stroke your skin. she is so into it, her hand is practically itching to just grab you by the waist and drag you down on her thigh.

it’s as if your minds link for a moment, because your smaller hand finds hers, guiding it to your stomach. sevika doesn’t react, at least not visibly, though you can’t say that about yourself. the second her rough, calloused palm runs over your abdomen to your hip, your body reacts on its own, almost like it isn’t even connected to your brain. she pulls you down on her leg, chuckling under her breath as your breath hitches. she has you where she wants you, and you can only comply to her every wish.

“babette’s is a few blocks away, y’know?” you mutter breathlessly, and you can only curse yourself out for how affected you are by her mere presence. it’s embarrassing, humiliating even, but you are oh so close to not give a single fuck. “someone can catch us here.”

sevika chuckles once more, liking your slightly mouthy attitude. it makes her want to put you in your place, take out her bad mood on you in all the ways she can. “by the way you’re reacting, i doubt you even give a damn,” her voice fills your ears, laced with a playful biting tone. “cherry.”

you suddenly feel coldness of a metal on your arm, pointy ridges of metal fingers digging into the flesh. she moves you around like a rag doll, like you weight nothing to her, until you straddle both of her legs and your thighs are spread apart. “tell me, what kind of services can you offer for extra coin?” she teases you, her thick fingers toying and pulling on the string of your thongs, making it snap back to your skin. “besides a little lap dance.”

the air is thick with tension, pushing down on your shoulders. it’s an intense, sexual sensation, one you can barely get enough of. you feel as if you are getting dragged by the ankle into the deep pit of unbridled lust, and it bubbles deep in your belly. you crave her.

you yearn for her.

“for you? anything,” you muster up the last bits of your attitude and smirk at her, your hand coming up to her right shoulder to steady yourself. “free of charge.”

it’s all sevika needs, and in a matter of seconds, she pounces on you, her lips running along your pulse. she doesn’t kiss, not yet. she merely toys with you, shapes you to her liking until you are but a mess. every touch of hers has a purpose, and unlike in a brothel, she is taking her sweet damn time. she’s frustrating herself by this point, all of the shit she had to deal with were simmering under the lid and ready to leak out, but something in her told her to utterly wreck you.

the music continues to play, silencing every small noise that escapes from your mouth. her fingers start to travel lower, following the fabric of the lace until the fingertips hover just above your clothed clit. she doesn’t even brush over it, yet you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. you bit on your bottom lip as sevika’s fingers linger on your thong, cheap cherry taste of your lipstick hitting your tongue.

“means that i can do this, right?” she asks into your skin, finally putting pressure on your clit. you jump in her lap, the sudden touch making you flinch away.

sevika doesn’t let you move away. she only chuckles when her mechanical arm goes down to your hip, pinning you to her lap like you are her trophy. there is no way she’s letting you go now, she wants to see you tremble.

your mind is hazy, and so foggy you can barely think of anything other than her, and the feeling of her fingers circling over your sensitive clit.

“do anything you want. i’m here to give you a show, aren’t i?” you try to keep your bravado, but it collapses like a house of cards the second her hand slips under the fabric, touching your cunt.

“fuck, you’re wet,” she laughs at you, pulling away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “are you that desperate, or what?”

you cry out in pleasure as an answer, which is all she needs. her fingers tease your clit, circling it, pinching it between her thumb and point finger, which only makes you wetter for her. it’s as if you’ve never had a good fuck in your life, and she is there to fix that.

sevika continues to tease you for a few lingering seconds, simply enjoying the sight of you crumbling beneath her touch, until she moves lower and leaves your swollen bundle of nerves twitching, yearning for contact. she doesn’t waste time to slip not one, but two of her fingers into your drenched hole, stretching it out.

“oh fuck,” you groan out once you feel her fingers move, pumping into you in a rough, but slow pace.

she keeps them curled just right, brushing over that sweet spot that makes your back arch and your eyes roll back. it’s clear that she is experienced, because she knows just how to touch you to keep you shivering in her lap. you drop your head to look at her hand moving between your legs, but sevika doesn’t allow you that for long.

her prosthetic hand shoots up to your neck, cocking your head upwards to keep you from looking away. she only applies little pressure to your throat, not hard enough to choke you out, but rather a little warning.

“eyes on me, cherry,” she rasps out, her eyes so intense it sends shivers down your spine. “be a good girl.”

her voice has you clenching around her fingers, pathetic mewls of pleasure rolling out of your mouth. you have no choice but to keep your gaze on her, your sight blurry and slightly unfocused as sevika’s fingers continue to fuck your cunt. as much as she enjoys the sounds you’re making, your voice is slowly starting to get louder than the music that still plays in the background.

with the metal hand on your throat, she tugs you forward, crashing her lips on your in a bruising kiss to swallow the moans you’re letting out. she doesn’t give you a chance to let you dominate the kiss as her tongue slides into your mouth. she is in charge, and she’s letting you know it.

the taste of hard liquor and smoke hits your tongue, but you’re too deep in pleasure to cringe at the taste. in all honesty it turns you on even more. the sensation of her thick fingers, pumping in and out of your drenched pussy combined with her mouth on yours make you go crazy. you are so close, your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

the way your walls clench and unclench tells sevika that you’re about to cum, but where is the fun in giving you what you want so early. she pulls her fingers out, and when you try to whine in protest, she lands a few hard smacks on your cunt. you can feel the slaps even through the fabric of your lingerie, that’s how rough she is.

“not yet, cherry. i’m far from done with you,” she mumbles when she pulls away from the kiss, her lips glistening with the mixture of your and her saliva. she grins, reaching for one of many fluffy cushions and throwing it on the floor underneath you. “on your knees.”

she lets go of your throat, letting you sink down on the floor. your knees nuzzle into the softness of the pillow, hands falling on the buckle of her belt to undo it. sevika lifts her hips when you unbutton her pants, letting you pull them down along with her underwear. she pulls one leg out to spread her legs more, giving you space to get closer.

you don’t dive in right away. instead, you run your tongue over her thighs, all while looking up at her. it’s like your little revenge on her for teasing you before, and for not letting you cum. sevika grits her teeth, her nostrils flaring a little. a woman normally with patience of steel is suddenly a ticking bomb, ready to explode.

her real hand moves to your hair, grabbing a fistful of the strands. she doesn’t pull at it, but her grip is tight. “don’t test my patience. not today.”

the tone of her voice, authoritative and commanding gives you chills, your cunt once again clenching around nothing. your eyes wander over her body until it stops on the wet mess between her muscular legs, and that’s all it takes to convince you to give her what she wants.

“yes, ma’am,” you whisper, and sevika’s grip on your hair loosens just enough for you to move.

with one final glance at her face, you delve your tongue into her cunt, moaning at the taste of her. your nose nudges against her swollen clit, which makes her let out a deep moan. her whole expression falters as you eat her out, curses and noises escaping her mouth like a mantra, a sinful prayer.

“you’re good, cherry,” she praises you breathlessly, fingers combing through your hair. “you sure you – oh, fuck – didn’t choose a wrong profession?”

you don’t give her an answer, your mouth being too busy with her pussy to talk. you eat her like a woman starved, like she is your last meal. you can feel her slick staining your chin, but you can hardly care. you only have one goal in mind, and that’s to take her over the edge.

your own cunt throbs whenever she moans, or accidentally tugs at your hair when your tongue laps at her clit. you’re desperate for release, just as you are desperate for her. your hand slowly slides into your panties, chasing your orgasm as your fingers rub your clit.

sevika can see what you’re doing, but all she can think about is how well your mouth pleases her. she tries to compose herself, to last longer, but the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach is getting unbearable, the coil ready to snap at any moment. all she needs is one final push.

and you give it to her. your lips wrap around her clit, sucking on it, which is what sends sevika over the edge. she throws her head back and moans out loud, not even caring who might hear outside of the salon. she cums into your mouth, her thighs squeezing your head. your own orgasm follows right after, and you whimper into her cunt. your back arches, you can’t pull away nor can you catch a breath, not when her muscular thighs keep you in a lock. your whole lower face is buried in her cunt for a few seconds, and you have to tap on her thigh to let you go, your lungs begging for air.

she looks down at you and realization hits her, her legs spreading apart again to let you move. you both gasp for air when you pull away, pants filling the room. the music stopped playing a while ago, and it dawns on you that your time with her should’ve ended minutes ago. yet you find yourself unable to actually leave the salon, not when you have just silco’s second-in-command cum like that.

sevika, who is not in a better state than you, feels the same. she grins down at you, her hand caressing your hair with gentleness that’s almost uncharacteristic to her.

“you may be a stripper, cherry, but i think you just found yourself a regular.”

[fingertipsmp3]

I cannot believe I spent my whole evening trying and failing to get temporary hair dye wax to work and then to add insult to injury discovered that I’m the only person on planet earth who doesn’t look good with a septum ring

[redocity]

Had a thought, where since buck is a God damn redwood, reader jokingly stands on a coffee table to look down at him and cup his face to kiss him and he absolutely adores whenever it happens

STEP-UP — E.BUCKLEY

you’re not exactly gifted in the height department, so you have to use a bit of extra help to reach your giant of a boyfriend.

evan buckley x short!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — oh to stand on a coffee table so i can kiss my tall-ass bf 😔✊

It started really as a one-off.

Buck was all broad shoulders and strong arms, a hulking redwood of a man who seemed to tower over everyone and everything. And you? Well… not so much.

You’d grown used to tilting your head back to meet his eyes, to stretching onto your tiptoes just to kiss him. But that one night, when something in the air felt light, fun, you’d found yourself getting creative.

It had been after dinner, a quiet evening in the apartment, the smell of spices lingering in the kitchen as the two of you moved through your usual routines.

He’d been washing the dishes, his tall, muscular frame filling the small space as you leaned against the couch, watching him.

Buck always made everything look so effortless, even something as simple as cleaning up, defined arms reaching across the surface with ease.

You shook your head, amused at the sight, and thats when the idea hit you.

As he returned, you stepped up onto the low coffee table that sat between the couch and the TV, elevating yourself just enough that when he looked back at you, for once, you were looking down at him.

It was barely half an inch, but you were satisfied.

“Whatcha doing up there?” He asked, chuckling softly, his voice rumbling softly in his chest.

“Just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for once,” you teased, stepping closer to the edge of the table. You were now eye level with him, something that almost never happened unless he was sat down.

He was so tall, so big, that it felt like half the time you were craning your neck just to meet his gaze.

Buck’s grin grew, his blue eyes twinkling as he stepped forward, standing just inches away from you. He wasn’t stupid—he knew what was coming, but he liked to play along. That was the thing about Buck; he had a sense humour to match his size.

You loved that about him, loved that despite his intimidating appearance, he was so easygoing, so ready to engage in your playful moments.

“Well,” you said, cupping his face with both hands, your palms warm against his stubbled cheeks. “This is how it feels to be tall,”

And before he could respond, you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, tender, and for once, you didn’t have to strain or stretch or find some weird angle to reach him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were the one with the advantage. When you pulled back, he was still smiling, eyes closed, clearly savoring the moment.

“How’s the weather up there?” he teased, voice low and affectionate.

You laughed, patting his chest. “Nothing but sunny skies,”

Buck hummed out a laugh as his palms splayed over your hips, although he didn’t get to bask in the moment for too long.

“Is that shelf always that dusty?”

—

That had been the beginning of it.

From then on, whenever you were in the mood to mess with him or just wanted to kiss him without feeling like you needed a step stool, you’d find something to stand on.

The stairs, a chair, even a curb if you were out walking. Each time, you’d make some cheeky comment about your newfound height, and each time, Buck would play along, leaning into your touch with a fond smile, like he couldn’t get enough.

It was as if, in those moments, the world shrank a little.

Buck’s usual stature seemed to fade, and the dynamic between the two of you shifted, becoming something even more intimate.

You could see it in his eyes, how much he adored it when you cupped his face and brought him down to your level. He never seemed to mind that you were taking a playful jab at his height. In fact, if anything, he seemed to love you more for it.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift at the firehouse, Buck came home looking more worn than usual. His broad shoulders were slumped, and there were dark circles under his eyes, the weight of the day’s work evident in every step he took.

You had been waiting for him, curled up on the couch, but the moment you saw him, you knew he needed something to lift his spirits.

Without saying a word, you hopped off the couch and walked over to the stairs, climbing two steps before turning to face him. He looked up at you, tired but curious, his lips quirking into a small smile despite himself.

“Again?” he asked, his voice rough from the long day.

“Come here,” You beckoned softly, your hands already reaching out for him.

He moved toward you, and when he was standing in front of the stairs, you reached up, cupping his face just like you had so many times before.

This time, though, you were gentle, your thumbs brushing over the scruff on his cheeks as you tilted his head up to meet yours.

“I missed you today,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss.

When you pulled back, you kept your hands on his face, looking down at him with all the love and affection you could muster. “Rough shift?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, and when he opened them again, that familiar softness had returned. The exhaustion was still there, but it wasn’t weighing him down quite as much anymore.

His hands came to rest on your waist, holding you close, and for a moment, you just stood there, savouring the quiet between you.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s much better now,”

—

Over time, your little ritual became a balm for the both of you. Whenever things felt heavy, or when the world outside was too much, you’d find a way to shrink the distance between you.

It was a small, silly thing, but it meant something. It was a reminder that despite the difference in your heights, in your physicalities, you were equals in every other way.

You grounded him, gave him something to hold onto when the days got long and the nights got lonely.

One weekend, you found yourselves at a park near your apartment, enjoying a rare day off together.

Buck had insisted on taking you to this spot, one that overlooked the city and had the perfect view of the sunset. As the two of you walked along the path, hand in hand, you came across a low stone wall that lined the edge of the trail.

Without thinking, you hopped up onto it, grinning as Buck looked up at you, amused as ever. You walked along the wall, balancing carefully as he followed alongside you, his hand resting on your hip to steady you.

“Are you ever going to stop doing this?” he asked, though his smile told you he didn’t really want you to.

“Nope,” you replied, hopping off the wall and landing right in front of him. “Never,”

Buck chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground as he kissed you.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands held you securely. Even though you were back to being shorter than him, it didn’t matter. In moments like these, there was no difference. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, everything else fading away.

After he set you back down, you rested your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

His arms tightened around you, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was where you belonged. Whether you were standing on a table or two steps up, or just in his arms, the height didn’t matter.

What mattered was the way he looked at you, the way he held you, like you were the only thing in the world that could make him feel whole.

“Love you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Love you too,” he whispered back, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

From that moment on, every time you stood on something to kiss him, it wasn’t just a joke anymore. It was a promise.

A promise that no matter how tall the trees grew or how high the flames rose, you’d always find a way to reach him.

And Buck? He’d always be there, looking up at you with that same adoration in his eyes, grateful for every kiss you gave him, no matter how high up you had to go to deliver it.

[lvndosnorris]

Hi I love ur work I was thinking about how lando would be such a jealous little shit when readers talking with the drivers and take her home just to edge her the whole night and smirk at her the whole time

lando was usually pretty good at concealing his jealousy, often finding ways to preoccupy his mind whenever he saw you giggling away with someone who wasn't him. he'd marvel in the way that you were always so effortlessly contagious, happiness radiating from you — it'd be silly to think people wouldn't be attracted to that, he'd always remind himself. after all it was him that got to take you home.

yet the event had been going on for far too long and you were minutes away from getting you and oscar another drink. lando had been watching from afar, careful to not make it too obvious as you hung your head back and slapped your thigh almost comedically. if it were anyone else, anyone but oscar, he would have dragged you from the booth already and made some lame excuse to take you home — but instead he stood there, leaning against the bar as he pressed his lips to the rim of his glass and swallowed the last bit of whatever drink had been passed his way.

"you think you're so funny don't you sweetheart?" his words were quiet but held the authority that made your skin tingle, your feet quick to keep up with him as you weaved yourselves through the crowds of people. you knew what was happening as soon as lando appeared, pouting playfully before telling oscar you'd see him around. you were pushing all the right buttons, lando's jealousy worn proudly on his face as he ushered you into the back of the taxi.

and usually the both of you would keep yourselves away from prying eye's. but there was no going back as his fingers traced the hem of your dress, the pad of his finger rough against your skin as he cooed, "is this what you wanted, hm? wanted my attention?"

he could have slipped his fingers right under your dress and had them curl inside of you right there and then. the bubbling desire hot in your stomach as you tried so hard to keep yourself under control, lando's breath hot against your neck as he grazed the curve of your shoulder with his teeth.

you could have sworn you entered heaven the minute the front door was closed, lando's hands callous as they hiked your dress up and had you pressed against the hallway wall. he wasn't going to give it to you easy, and you knew that — whining as you pleaded with him, desperately begging for him to make you feel good. not that you deserved it, obviously.

"does he make you feel this good?" and he could of been anyone that lando had gotten jealous over, his thumb pressing harshly against your clit. the manner of how he rubbed it being one that was brutal, the pit of your stomach ignited as you held onto the doorframe for support. it was disgusting how quick your legs started shaking, lando's name falling from your tongue over and over in a filthy mantra — and then he just stopped.

dragged his hand from between your legs with a shit eating smirk on his face, his thumb suckled in his mouth as he groaned. your pouts and stammers would be pathetic as you followed him through to the bedroom, kicking your shoes off in the process as you splayed your palms across his back and fisted the ironed material of his shirt, "baby, please, i was just messing!"

and you were repeating those words when you were sprawled on the bed, lando's thigh keeping your legs parted as you bucked yourself against the muscle in hopes to find some sort of friction. a low laugh emitting from him as he tutted, pinning your waist down as he mocked your noises whilst peppering hot, messy kisses between the valley of your tits.

his tongue relenting as it swiped over your skin, leaving a sticky trail of saliva as he felt you writhe and push up against him. only giving into you when you swore you'd never do it again — his belt loosened as he stared at you from above, his trousers slack on his waist as he pushed them down just enough to free his already hardened cock. he'd be lying if he said this wasn't turning him on, the thought of you being his and nobody else's sending blood straight to where he craved you most.

the stretch to accommodate lando was always one that had you wincing. no matter how many times you promised you could take him your reaction would say otherwise; mouth drawn into a circle as he teased your with not much more than his tip. you bucked once more, mewling for him to fill you properly; only for lando to pull back, slipping the tip of his cock to your clit and back down again, hissing to himself at the sensitivity.

and he repeated that, over and over again, only pushing a mere inch or two inside of you before leaving you feeling empty. the heat that surged through your limbs making you moan out in frustration, fingernails gripping his bicep as you'd glare at him, neediness evident in your expression as you watched him have his fun with you.

[atsuberry]

🍰 ˚₊‧꒰ა my faves as your roommate ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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fc: atsushi nakajima, akutagawa ryuunosuke, louisa may alcott, HP lovecraft, ivan goncharov, sigma, fyodor dostoevsky

cw: college au, ooc charas, pure fluff, g/n reader, reader is lowk awkward, mentions of overdose

a/n: wow.. first post (GEULPP) I'm nervous, I hope you guys enjoy this though!! <33

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♯ 🍓┆Atsushi Nakajima .ᐟ

The sweetest roommate EVER.

You have a buttload of assignments? He'll help you! You made a mess? He'll clean it for you! You're sick? He'll take care of you.

He's genuinely so nice it makes you tear up a bit..

Always trying to find a way to find a conversation with you, oh you like working out? That's crazy because he suddenly has a membership card a few days later!.. you like anime? His favorite is the same as yours!

Shares the most concerning stories about his past and brushes it off as nothing..

And then you just stare at him dumbfounded.

Gifts you stuff as his apologies! Mostly stationery stuff, or stuff that you like.

♯ 🍮┆Akutagawa Ryūnosuke .ᐟ

Never interacts with you.

Never.

Only talks to you when he needs something

That doesn't go the same for you though, you lost your keys? That's on you.

He's a light sleeper, so if you're cramming your studies in the middle of the night making a bunch of unnecessary noise, he's wide awake.

He really needs his sleep.

Only stays on his side of the dorm, if he dropped something that somehow rolled over to your side, he'll ask you to fetch it for him. (Who does he think he is)

If you're a quiet person, he'll probably tolerate you.

♯ 🥨┆Louisa May Alcott .ᐟ

Was scared of the idea of sharing a dorm at first,

Eventually you grew onto her, but it took like A LOT of time

Sometimes, you'd see her pass out on her desk while she's studying

So you cover her up with a blanket..! (this became a frequent thing)

Louisa always notices the blanket as soon as she wakes up and feels sheepish about it,

You assure her it's fine! But you're still concerned about the fact she just LITERALLY passed out.

Sometimes asks for you to leave the dorm whenever she's doing her assignments,

And you're like, huh???..???

You shrug it off anyways.

You invite her whenever you're going out!

♯ 🥧┆H.P Lovecraft .ᐟ

He's literally non-existent

Never talks to you, only talks when you start up a conversation with him first.

He's genuinely terrifying

His side of the dorm is practically empty, he sleeps on one pillow.

He genuinely does not gaf

Whenever you're going out, he'll sometimes sleep on your bed to see if your bed is more comfortable than his.

(it is!)

Overall, he's just there, doesn't really do anything.

♯ 🥞┆Ivan Goncharov .ᐟ

High-key low-key a neat freak

He mentally disturbs you sometimes due to how unpredictable his emotions are, since he's constantly happy all the time.

Usually talks about Dostoevsky to you.

Lets you wrap his head with bandages if he's feeling lazy, but he's like, VERY detailed on how he wants it to be wrapped.

If you're a messy person then he's gonna be a real pain in the ass

If the two of you were to share a bathroom, literally the whole bathroom would be filled with shampoo bottles or whatever thingamajigs he has.

Whenever you're going out, he ALWAYS asks you to run an errand for him.

“while you're on the way, can you buy me..”

You're his errand person.

♯ 🍪┆Sigma .ᐟ

A chill roommate

His hair does concern you.. like, what even is that?? A Christmas tree??..??

It does feel nice to braid it though, the white and purple strands go well with each other when it's tangled up.

Never lets you cook, like no trust at all

Insists that y'all should just get take out instead,

Rude, but oh whatever..

Do you think he's the type of guy to show you funny videos of animals

Idk man...

♯ 🥯┆Fyodor Dostoevsky .ᐟ

His appearance genuinely concerns you,

He definitely has a shrimp posture when he's sitting.

Definitely stays up until 6 in the morning.

Only drinks like coffee for the whole day,

You try to pursue him into eating more, but he declines everytime.

However if he WERE to sleep, he'd definitely talk during his prayer before going to sleep.

(his prayer would be 10 minutes long)

One time, you caught him drinking a pill in the middle of the night thinking he was overdosing,

Turns out he had just forgotten to take his iron supplements.. whoops.

Impossible to sleep around him, his screen is always blaring a bright screen on his computer. (Unless you somehow manage to sleep around that.)

[noowayybroo]

Uh... You give Leon sloppy?

Not very creative w/ my titles, or anything really...

Characters: Leon Kennedy, Reader

Warnings: Smut ofc, don't look if you don't like sexy time or if you're too young to do sexy time, you feel? Man gets head, subby Leon, bit of begging, reader isn't exactly dom tho, Leon is just kinda needy. mmmm nom nom nom tasty, GN reader cuz we love being included!!! No mention of age or relationship either, he could be your roommate, your stepbro, your teacher LMAO unleash your wildest fantasies ig?? Gets REAL sloppy so if you have a spit kink, enjoy! If you don't... you poor thing.

Dear young people: Go play Minecraft.

Leon always thought that whenever you claimed to be 'great at head', you were just kidding. You had to be covering up some insecurity orrr... just teasing him, he reckoned.

...Of course he'd been curious, he would have been whether you'd been the closest of lovers or the slightest of strangers, but he quickly came to learn something:

"N-no joke!", Leon breathes in shy bliss, sat there on the couch before you, doing his best to keep those desperate, watery puppy-dog eyes trained on you. Whilst one strong arm digs into the sofa beside him, desperate for some semblance of stability, the other holds up his increasingly much-too-warm shirt - the line of it restrained just above his heaving chest, glistening with fine perspiration, all thanks to you.

You? Well, you're on your knees just between his legs, and let me assure you, it's a pretty view.

At first, you'd begun by slowly tracing a cupped hand up and down the perfect length of his member, before incorporating saliva and kisses into the slippery mess you were making. Leon's tip, in response, was flushed as red as his cheeks, a copious flow of precum seeping down into your frothing, slobbery equation.

Small 'aaah' s and 'mmmm's escape Leon's lips at this stage, his breath catching whenever you pull away, voiding his feel of you where it was oh so delicious. You made his heart skip a beat in other ways, too: when your eyes met his flustered gaze, when you slowly trailed the tip of your tongue from his pulsing base to tip, or when he could hear your own appreciative giggles and breaths. You were having fun, and he adored each little piece of proof of that fact.

"Come on, big boy", you pout, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze up at his drooping lids and slack jaw, "I haven't even started sucking yet-" Leon's response is a guttural yet suppressed low groan as his legs tremble a little at the thought.

Yet. He muses to himself, unable to peel his blown pupils away from the hypnotic movement of your hand.

Your wrist and arm move with such ease, he thinks, the mere act appears to be a simple, beautiful and natural act in itself. He could cum just like this, trying his best not to thrust into your hand as you milk him in just the right way. He wanted so badly to feel your mouth around him, to be enveloped deep within your warmth, and so, he simply would not admit that he didn't need your throat to finish.

Finally, you're ready to give it to him. He knows that his patience is soon to pay off. Stomach tensing and eyes squinting, Leon watches apprehensively as you lower your head, surrounding him.

Your warmth.

your wetness.

The pressure of your closed lips

The feel of your tongue.

They all have him sighing in satisfaction. And when you move, oh, when you move, he can't help but offer you more moans whines, begging you to continue.

"Please... please fff...", "Fucckk~~", "Uahhh fuckk... So... so good."

His words are slurred as his head lolls back once you start to move. He's facing the ceiling but he isn't looking at it. Mind and vision so clouded by pleasure, all Leon can really do is zone out as the sensation of you washes him away. You bob up and down along him, licking and sucking passionately from a good way down, back up to the tip, over and over. Sometimes, you switch things up, focusing your tongue on his tip or pushing further, devouring his cock with your throat, and each time, Leon lets out a raspy, thick moan.

A blind hand finds the back of your head, entangling with your hair as he holds you. He's not forcing you, or trying to move or control you. In fact, Leon is so infatuated, so desperate to be further wound up in you. His arm is limp, simply following your strong movements as he holds you endearingly. You're unsure, ironically, which of you he's trying to reassure. This earns him a little giggle from you, which of course sends him beaming.

Looking to surprise him, you reposition yourself before suddenly taking his cock as deep as you can, nose pressed against his chiselled abdomen. Your eyes water. Trying to suppress your gagging, you do your best to breathe through your nose, but your throat prickles with the pain of being used. No need to hide it, though. Leon is in a world of his own, his head rolls further back, his back arched and his hand leaving your head to curl reflexively around nothing as he trembles, euphoric. Even your sounds are drowned out as wails of pleasure fill the room, accompanied by the couch creaking as Leon's hips buck against your face, shoving himself impossibly deep inside you.

Leon doesn't have much brainpower left. All of his blood's in his cock, and his power in his hips. So, while he does care about your ability to breathe, he can't contain himself as he continues to squirm, legs desperately trying to lift himself, pressing deeper and deeper into you where he feels he belongs. His own shameful sounds, combined with the wet, slobbering and faint choking you emit, bring Leon closer and closer to the edge as he practically sobs, doing his best to resist the primal urge to grab your head and force it to stay there around him. He's trying so hard to be good for you.

Leon finally glances down, eyes discovering your reddening face as the inevitable he'd prepared for occurs: you pull away. With a loud gasp, you lift your head from his twitching phallus, a line of thick, bubbly saliva bridging the gap between your once-connected parts. You waste no time recovering breath though, he's close, and it'd be cruel to tease him any further.

"Where do you wanna cum?" You ask softly, raspy voice choked by saliva as you return to pleasing him, sweet eyes meeting his, expectant of an answer.

Leon is more than surprised to have had the choice, which he expresses with something of a chuckled moan... He ponders for a while, once more getting lost in the feel of you on him so lovingly, but knows he has to decide soon, or it'll be in your mouth no matter what...

OK GUYS BARE WITH ME I WANTED TO TRY SOMETHING SO PLEASE BARE WITH ME I HAD AN IDEA!!! So, my idea is... based on where you want him to cum just find the prompt title below and read!! The stuff will be separated with "----"s! There's 2 options in this fic, either on yer fayce or in yer throat! :> Happy reading!

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"F---fuckk... On... on your face... please", Leon hisses. He really wanted to be buried in your throat once more, but a small part of him hoped he'd have a chance to another time after this. Well, that accompanied by the thought that this would be his last chance, his final attempt to claim you as his swayed his mind. He needed to make good on the image that had just plastered the walls of his mind: Your sweet, sweet, hot face, painted with his seed.

Humming and nodding obediently, picking up the pace, you work Leon closer and closer to his release as he does his very best to watch you, worshipping you: a master at work. He bites his bottom lip as he stares back down at you, barely able to blink for fear he'll awake from this blissful dream. Suddenly, though, it becomes time.

"Oh... Ohh shit I'm gonna... I'm gonna c-cum I- I'm..." Leon Groans, squirming back to help you release him in time. As his cock springs free from your sopping wet lips with a soft 'pop', it lands with an audible 'plap' on the taught skin of your face. You thought you'd have to continue working him, replacing the stimulation your mouth no-longer provided, but the view of your perfect face, topped with his lucky, lucky member had Leon hurtling over the edge like a dramatic car-crash in a 90's film.

It throbbed...

It spurted...

Hot, thick ropes flew from Leon's cock, generously garnishing every inch of your beaming, reddened face. His hand replaces yours on it before you get a chance, further milking himself onto you, standing as you kneel before him. He moans, throws his head back, the image of you below him, claimed as his own, far too pleasurable in the moment.

"Ahhhh.... G-God..." He lets out another expression of enjoyment amidst his heavy breathing as his cock rests above your face once more, twitching and throbbing, still pulsing and full of energy, as if threatening to be ready to go again all too soon. A strong, large hand rests as your face, replacing his cock which is held by his other. Before you know it, his thumb is slowly wiping some of his cum from your face, and feeding it into your open, awaiting maw. He hums in satisfaction as you close your mouth around the digit, sucking obediently. His sudden dirtiness makes you feel... hot... inside...

Your heaving breaths pull his attention back to you, and he promptly crouches down to pull you back onto the couch beside him, leaning into you lovingly as he does.

"So..." He sighs, not yet trusting himself to be able to form a coherent sentence, "How long were you planning on letting me miss out on that?" He sounds amused and is still jokey, which is a great sign. You wonder what this means for the future of your relationship now.

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"I-in..." Leon groans, choked up over his own words. "Inside... please", he moans, fighting to keep his eyes open to watch for your response as they threaten to shut in pleasure. You nod hastily, excited by his request, fueled by his pleasure. You pick up the pace, stroking his length rapidly with one hand as you consume him with your mouth. He moans, he groans and he whimpers, hips bucking wildly and hands returning to perch on your head.

As soon as you give him that silent, affirmative dip of the head, his hands become forceful. Raw, horny energy prompting him to push down on your head like some sea-dwelling monster trying to drown their victim. His tip forces its way back between the tight muscles of your throat, causing you to sputter and choke, further coating his slip-n-slide of a cock as he bottoms out inside of you, groaning, almost yelling as he meets his release.

"Ffffuck fuck fuck fuck... Shitttt..."

Leon's cock throbs and twitches as he hastily pulls it out from your throat, which was too tight and strained to even feel the hot ropes which were spilled into it seconds ago. He cradles your face in his hands as his cock pops free from your mouth, slapping down to rest on your face as it jerks and throbs in gratification. It's hot and warm, even against your sizzling skin. You pull away to cough slightly and catch some much needed air. Leon's also breathing heavily, doing his best to come down from his high.

Lovingly, he stares at you until his lidded gaze meets your proud, yet slightly nervous one (he was just so... big), before he whispers, voice scratchy yet more than amused, "Where'd you learn to do all that?" He helps you up to sit beside him as his mind wonders, picturing the thousand ways he'd like to feel that again and again. His eyes read nothing but awe.

------------------------------------- I think the choice thing is cool because it helps make the fic more inclusive... Some people might really not like the idea of gettin' baby batter injected into their windpipes (I can tell you, it's not pleasant), and others might not like the idea of it clinging to their face... on the contrary, some might love either. I know this disrupts the flow of the fic a bit, for which I hastily apologise, but I wanted to see if anyone liked this idea. I was even thinking about using Links to make a choice game... which could be fun, but I'm not sure.

Hope you enjoyed n if you want something please ask I love you all!

[miauentity]

Sharing my own TNMN headcanons bcoz why nawt?! (Below the cut)

lemme start with the girlies

♡ The Sverchzt twins are french-russian

♡ Elenois is a lot more shy/reserved and has low self-esteem. Selenne, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. I'm basing this off solely on their nightmare counterparts Lilith and Anazareth, specifically their responses when you ask them about their appearance

For reference, Lilith only says that "everything is in order with her appearance" while the other residents say theyre perfect or in the case with Anazareth, that she's "just as beautiful as ever"

♡ Speaking of Lilith and Anazareth, I really like the trope that they are the polar opposite of each other; from stylistic choices, orderliness to even intimate preferences.

Lilith likes to be clean and tidy. She's also a masochist (not necessarily in a sexual way) which is why she likes to wear insanely tight corsets. Anazareth doesn't care about the messes she makes, and certainly prefers to see others suffer her wrath.

♡ Lilith is a lesbian (Elenois too). Like really, the Lilith?! The first woman made from soil at the same time but not with Adam's flesh??? The first feminist !?!?@, 😍😍. Ok in all seriousness, both could be sapphic-leaning and im open to that

♡ Lilith and Anazareth aren't actually who they were named after. They were named after two mysterious "evil" spirits who helped their mother out during difficult times. Eventually, all three were unjustly executed for worshipping "demons" and engaging in "witchcraft" in the victorian era

♡ Angus is trans. But doesn't know that it's not a common cis experience to want to be a woman as a self-identifying man

♡ Despite separating, Francis still harbors feelings for Nacha and is a bit creepy about it. Though, Nacha has moved on (sort of). Francis continues to be a milkman despite the crappy pay so that he could regularly deliver cases to her restaurant. He also sneaks in bottles for Anastacha

♡ ok this depends on the doorman you interpret but if they are young, Margarette would definitely treat them as her own nibling/grandchild since she's never had her own. She is quite affectionate, would teach the young doorman how to crochet and invite them for tea occassionally

♡ Lois is as hospitable as Margarette. Roman is too wary of strangers and gets a bit cranky whenever there are visitors coming over. But honestly its ok bc Lois keeps him grounded

♡ Robertsky also suffers from low self-esteem. But unlike Elenois, he copes with it by being conceited. He is jealous of Albertsky for being "more popular with the ladies" when in reality, it's just an exaggeration of his perception of his brother.

♡ the Peachman brothers own their shoemaking business

♡ Arnold publishes educational books and writes activist journals. He is quite popular for his involvement in politics and almost crossed the DDD once... in response, the DDD secretly sent a doppelganger of him with stitched eyes as a warning

♡ Steven is a former veteran and likely suffers from PTSD. He switched to becoming a regular pilot in the local airport since there was a very high demand for the job

♡ Mclooy managed his own restaurant before officially retiring. He is a really, really good cook and often volunteers with Nacha when the neighbors gather for a potluck/ cookout.

♡ Rafttellyn only married Alf for the money 😭😭😭😭 i mean come on, shes young, married a lawyer whose probably leagues older than her, is a housewife and carries expensive jewelry and a designer bag 😳

♡ I really like the idea that Mia and Afton are just each other's beards. Mia probably has a crush on Nacha and may or may not be subtly flirting with her.

♡ On the flip side, if they are in a genuine relationship, I do think that Mia resents Afton and is falling out of love. Maybe because Afton is too obsessed with his job that he doesnt give enough attention to her

[voltronisanobsession]

Can I request Annabeth Chase x Son of Phobos or Deimos reader head canons? Thanks, in advance!

Annabeth with a Child of Phobos

Ooooo new character unlocked😍😍 This is a really interesting duo and I LOVE IT

I hope you like this, I feel like I’ve been lowkey out of my game with writing😭 I have a lot of asks in my inbox rn, but I’m slowly getting through them guys, I’m getting there🙏🙏

Ok so i did a bit of reading on these gods and the POTENTIAL I SAW FOR THIS ASK WAS SO AAAAHH

I feel like this relationship would be an enemies to lovers kinda thing

OK SO

Imagine reader is the kid of Phobos cuz why not

Phobos is the god of fear, panic, all that good stuff, so obviously those traits would be passed down to his children

And a special power of Phobos is allowing those he makes eye contact with see their deepest fears,, lets say that that’s an ability that children of Phobos can do to an extent!!

So the first time you and Annabeth meet, it is NOT on good terms����

Sent out by your father, Phobos, to mess up some quest Percy was sent on, an order from Ares himself, there's a face-off between you and Annabeth

Like, Annabeth is so ready to take you down the second you show up to disrupt their quest but she just can't seem to shake off the shivers and chills going down her body once you appear

And you already know how Percy cares for his friends so targeting someone whose close to him (Annabeth) was an open option

Cold sweat rolls down Annabeth's face at point, her heart slowly speeding up as you look toward her

The second you make eye contact with her BOOM

She immediately goes into panic mode when she feels something crawling down her hands

She can only start screaming in absolute FEAR when she sees hundreds of spiders crawling on her body, dropping her dagger to the ground and trying to swat them off her to no avail

And the worst part is that literally no one can help her because they can't even SEE what she's seeing and feeling, except you!

Yeah your meeting is the worst memory Annabeth has of you💀

Fast forwarding to after your meeting, you get caught in some trouble with a dangerous monster and dun duunn!!

Annabeth saves you because she knows its the right thing to do

And you're so touched by her action despite the literal hell you put her through after showing her worst fears that you just

Join their quest and decide to become her friend (or at least try to)

Annabeth would be super awkward and nervous around a child Phobos solely because of her first encounter with one

Whenever you try to talk to her, she just awkwardly looks at you

You see her somewhere at camp and brightly wave to her, she's doing a quick wave and speedwalking away

But it's low-key not her fault😭😭 Whenever she's around you she can't stop the way her hands get clammy and her heartbeat speeds up

It's something you can't control but you have this aura that ignites fear in anyone near you

I don't think a friendship could come from this unless you were to apologize for what happened

It could be the worst apology known to existence because you don't know how to properly express your feelings, but Annabeth appreciates the thought behind it!

After that, everything is a little smooth sailing

She would slowly get used to your presence, getting used to your aura and knowing that you most likely won't use your power to cause her harm (again)

It would take some time for you two to become close enough for her to see you in a romantic light, but you still manage to break down her walls

Your constant figure in her life makes you a part of her routine

She’d give you a nickname, something dumb like panic pants

(when Percy first heard Annabeth call you that, he made it his mission to just refer to you as ‘PP’ to ‘shorten it’💀)

Annabeth would see you as friend while on the other hand, you be quick to catch feelings for the grey eyed girl because of her witty personality

I think the small things would really matter to her if you’re wanting to up your game with her

You give her a small flower while walking to lunch because it reminded you of her

She appreciates the way you give her your undivided it attention whenever she takes about architecture

Sometimes Annabeth fees like she’s talking to much about it but seeing you listen to her with interested eyes allows her to keep talking about what she loves

She feels seen and heard when she’s around you😭

Oh my gosh if you weave her something, no matter how bad the pattern is, she’s gonna treasure it FOREVER

Having something made just for her will make her all giddy inside UGH

Annabeth is so used to being grouped with her siblings so having someone pay special attention to her makes her feel important and well, special!

This is when the game shifts, she’ll begin giving you small gifts too!!

Whether it be a small weaving of her own or a clay bowl she made herself, Annabeth wants to show that she truly appreciates as a person!!

She’s all blushy while gently giving it to you and you’re face is just RED cuz oMGGG

Let’s talk about when the relationship becomes official >:)

It could be anytime but the one I see happening is if you save her after she’s attacked while outside of camp

Inside running to get away from the threat, you stay behind and protect her while she recovers herself

Like you get BRUTALLY beat, limping towards her when she just runs to you and pulls you in a crashing cuz!!! You literally!! Risked your life to save her!!😭

“Annabeth are you alri- hmph!”

“What we’re you thinking ?! Thank the gods you’re ok! I thought- ugh don’t scare me like that again!”

Everything is HISTORY

Like you guys just naturally click after getting together

Omg wait

Ok so since Annabeth like REALLY trusts reader at this point she would let them like see what her greatest fear is, you know to solidify that trust bond😁

And what if!! What if!!!!!!!

Instead of seeing the spiders, this time you only sees glimpse of what her now current fear is, which is losing you😭😭😭

Hugging session is a must after seeing that cuz damn😭

And imagine like if your abilities were really strong you’d be able to show your own fear to someone else

And Annabeth sees your fear is the DAME except your afraid of losing her?????

UM??

That moment would leave you guys so vulnerable like??

Moving on! During battles, you both are back to back fighting together. Annabeth had full confidence in reader, like she knows she’s in good hands

No one goes near her because all the enemies are too busy panicking with what you’re doing. With a lot of concentration, you’re able to instill fear to all the monster, with the exception of your girlfriend teehee

The dating life with Annabeth wouldn’t be too different tbh

You guys still bucket with each other, throwing lighthearted, sarcastic comments but theres a more sweeter vibe

I think Annabeth still gets a little blushy with you cuz cmon! She still has a MAJOR crush on you even if you’re dating🤭

You provide her with so much confidence and happiness. You help her face her fears, calm her down when she begins panicking when something goes wrong

Despite being a child of Phobos and having such a scary ability to make people see their greatest fears, Annabeth knows that even the ‘scariest’ people have kind and gentle side

Ugh this feels like such a trope but I don’t even care cuz ITS CUTE

When Annabeth holds your hand, she no longer feels the chilling sense of fear crawling through her body, instead, now she only feels a sense of calmness and protection😭💔💔💔

[rockybloo]

Thinking about Bitterbat tormenting Freebird. Not physically or even seriously but just mocking shit while in battle while he is obviously holding back because Bitterbat could obviously kill the bird man with the flick of a finger.

He very badly wants to but he knows the mess it'd cause and simply settles on mocking America's #1 via bringing up Sweetheart.

He says the typical villainous things one would expect, like how she's so out of his league, how he'll never be strong enough to protect her, how she'll never return his feelings.

Of course, Freebird has protagonist brain so he keeps responding heroically. He goes on and on about how he'll defeat Bitterbat and how his words don't hurt him and is just Bitterbat projecting.

And then Freebird fucks up and states he doesn't know anything about Sweetheart.

And there's this horrible glint in Bitterbat's eyes as he takes this slight as the green light to drop the weights a bit.

Not on his strength but on his mouth.

"I know how soft her lips are and how sweet they taste" Many, including Freebird upon hearing this think of all the kisses Bitterbat "steals" in battle.

"I know all the weak spots that make her knees buckle when touched" Again, those listening think of all the times Bitterbat has shown just how much better he is in hand-to-hand combat than Sweetheart.

"I know how her voice sounds when she's trembling in my arms" Freebird glares at Bitterbat, recalling how scared Sweetheart often looks anytime she is pinned or wrapped up in Bitterbat's clutches. He just knows the fact Bitterbat could easily kill her, fills Sweetheart with fear and anytime he witnesses the scene as he watches the Decking City News, he wishes for nothing more than to sweep in and pull that bat wing eared monster off her.

"And I know that whenever she is around you, she is always thinking of me." A wide, twisted, and smug smile crept to Bitterbat's face as he watched the pure anger in Freebird's face change to frustrated confusion.

All the other teases had been, what many watching thought, battle related. But that last jab at Freebird made him pause to think about just what the hell Bitterbat meant.

And Bitterbat loved it. He wanted oh so badly to define what he meant. Go into deeper detail about the insult. Just like he wanted so badly to go into detail about the prior ones. He knew how oblivious the world was to the true relationship of Sweetheart and him. He knew when they heard his words, they simply thought of their fights together and the tricks he'd pull.

No one truly knew that each of his vague jeers were references to all the intimate times he and Sweetheart spent together off the battlefield.

No one except maybe the rabid Bittersweet Shippers. Lord knows how much they were eating this little moment up.

But Freebird was obviously not one of those and he snarled at Bitterbat, which the latter viewed as a pathetic attempt at both intimidating him as well as just sounding animalistic.

Freebird's wings bristled as, Bitterbat assumed, he tried to make himself appear bigger.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull with your disrespectful remarks to Sweetheart, but I'm not going to listen to some selfish creep that constantly forces himself upon her!"

A guttural sound crept out from Bitterbat's throat. It was deep and low and made everyone listening's bones rattle. Whatever playful energy was in this battle left immediately as Bitterbat's face lost all expression. His eyes were cold and the locked on stare they had on Freebird made him freeze instinctually.

Those watching could tell that the scene had switched from a confrontation of rivals to predator and prey.

Freebird was struggling to say anything to break up the silence. But nothing was coming out due to a strange anxiety that had built up inside of him since the moment Bitterbat stopped talking. Something deep inside of him wanted him to fly as far and fast from this battle as he could and he had to use all his will power to stay right where he was.

Bitterbat was the first to speak and it made everyone jolt due to many believing the live feed had suddenly been muted. His voice was much deeper than any had heard it. It was no longer the light and playful tone many associated with the villain. And that just made the situation even scarier for those watching.

"You dare call me the selfish creep when your accusations are merely the projections of your own actions?" Smoke leaked from Bitterbat's mouth as he spoke, deep violet and filled with high levels of toxin. "Your darling public might think you are a selfless saint but you are the biggest sinner around."

In seconds, Bitterbat's staff materialized in his hand and was jabbed into the asphalt of the street. A crack began to form from the road wound and spread toward Freebird's direction. More deep violet smoke began to billow from the crevices.

"And I promise you that a hell beyond your understanding is awaiting you with a gaping hungry maw"

Bitterbat finally smiled, and his grim grin practically split his entire face in half with just how much it didn't fit on his humanly form. His fangs jutted from his mouth as razor sharp canines accompanied them. His long serpent tongue slithered out and flicked in the air, lapping up all the delicious fear that was leaking off the now trembling bird. His braid, the tip now pointed like a scorpion's tail, thrashed around in bloodlust.

The Monstrum wanted nothing more than to just kill him now and end the rest of Sweetheart's suffering. It would have been so easy with the way the hero was paralyzed in fear. Everyone was too stunned to even think of helping, including any heroes on standby for the fight. All Bitterbat really had to do was swing his staff and end it all in front of millions.

But as a sudden pink flash appeared in the sky, the King of Monsters remembered why he wasn't allowed.

Sweetheart descended, lowering herself right in the middle of Freebird and Bitterbat. She didn't want to land due to the fact Bitterbat was a foot taller than her-and her goal was ultimately to block Freebird from his view so he focused on just her. Her appearance seemed to bring some relief to everyone as the unsettling energy of what many believed to be Freebird's final day faded away. Even the smoke that was billowing from the road seemed to stop.

While everyone was frozen in fear back home, watching Bitterbat's monstrous transformation in real time, Sweetheart had been hauling ass to transform and arrive at the scene. She knew all the tell tale signs of Bitterbat's temperament worsening and when the mocking was on the way to becoming murdering.

The second it had become unclear if Bitterbat was going to remain restrained as he promised or if he was going to follow through on his many declarations to kill Freebird, Sweetheart knew she had to intervene.

Putting on her best heroic voice, she broke the silence.

"I think this battle has gone on long enough, boys." She did her best to sound playful but her eyes were locked on Bitterbat as she watched him very closely. Not in fear but to study him.

It was very clear to her that Bitterbat was enraged, even if he seemed calm to many right now. Her appearance might have eased some of that anger but it was still very present and still very much aimed at Freebird.

"I've never been more happy to see you, Sweetheart!" Freebird's tone was happy, under the false belief that he was out of the danger zone.

Sweetheart kept her eyes locked on Bitterbat. Every time his eyes flicked to try and look at Freebird, she moved so he would be looking at her instead. The magical girl responded, never taking her eyes off the Monstrum. "Yeah um, Freebird, I need you to get out of here while I deal with Bitterbat."

Freebird frowned. "But with the two of us, we could definitely deal with him now! Why would you want to go one-on-one with...that?" He gestured towards Bitterbat's...everything.

Sweetheart tried to hide the annoyance in her voice with determination. "Because I know Bitterbat better than any hero around and I don't want to risk you getting killed because of his unpredictability!"

Hearing a vague mention of the bond they shared made Bitterbat ease up a bit, the clutch on his staff loosening ever so slightly as he closed his mouth, his fangs now shrunken to their usual size to rest more comfortably in his powered down form. His braid had reverted from its scorpion tail appearance to being just hair again. The tip began to thump on the ground and the sound only got louder the longer he stared at Sweetheart.

Freebird wasn't budging. Holding in a groan at the obnoxiously protagonist coded man, Sweetheart floated closer towards Bitterbat so he was within arms reach. She watched as his eyes seemed to dilate at her approach, making him look less like an apex predator and more like an eager puppy.

Holding in an awe, Sweetheart couldn't think of any better way to make sure Bitterbat stayed put than to just simply...grab his face with her palm resting on the bridge of his nose so he hand no choice but to close his eyes. A trill of surprise came out of him but soon Sweetheart's entire arm vibrated from the force of him purring just from the skin contact.

Relieved Bitterbat was distracted enough, Sweetheart FINALLY looked towards Freebird.

"Bitterbat is my archenemy and isn't someone to take lightly. Only other Beloveds are capable of handling him. It'd be much safer if you left him to me."

Freebird took one step closer to Sweetheart and she had to squeeze Bitterbat's face as she heard his purring shift to growling.

Freebird replied, "I don't think it's safe for you to deal with that guy by yourself."

Sweetheart rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide it from the cameras-she could make an excuse about it to anyone who asked later. She responded, now growing tired of this back and forth, "I know that Bitterbat would never kill me. That makes me safer than anyone else on Earth...especially you as you were literally looking death in the face 10 seconds ago before I showed up."

Freebird would never acknowledge her being right about his fight or flight activating because he knew he was in danger. He merely crossed his arms with a smug grin. "So I'll take you showing up to save me as a sign you care?"

Every heroic bone in Sweetheart's body ached with a mighty need to let go of Bitterbat and just sick him on the bird. Bitterbat's tail began to wag as he sensed the desire in Sweetheart.

With the deepest sigh she thinks she's ever mustered in battle, Sweetheart replied one last time to Freebird as she settled on her next course of action.

"You can take me showing up to save you as a sign from some higher force that you should really pick and choose your battles much more carefully." Sweetheart allowed some sass to slip into her response. She was reminded of why it took her so long to jump into action while she was watching the scene unfold at home. Freebird was an egotistical dick and watching Bitterbat put him in his place was satisfying as hell.

Before Freebird had a chance to respond to her again, Sweetheart suddenly flew up into the sky, a tail ribbon grazing Bitterbat's cheek as a sign to follow her.

And follow he did as his focus had completely left Freebird and instead stuck to Sweetheart.

The two left in seconds, leaving nothing but swirling dust and cratered earth where Bitterbat had been standing seconds ago.

Freebird was left speechless at the sudden exit before chuckling to himself.

"Ah, she's crazy about me."

Meanwhile, miles into the sky away from Freebird, the fight scene and Decking City, Sweetheart groaned, loud and furiously. "I cannot STAND his ass. GOD he is such a prick!" She dragged her hands down her face as she flew past some clouds and a couple birds.

Bitterbat tailed her, humming blissfully as he enjoyed the sweet sounds of his girlfriend hating on his most disliked person. "Don't worry Sweetums, next time I have to deal with him, I'll make sure to slap him around a little~"

Sweetheart glanced over her shoulder to Bitterbat, the fear of hitting anything in front of her was nonexistent as the open air was much less congested than the city skylines.

"Define what you mean by 'a little'."

"A couple broken bones and bruises here and there. Nothing good ole hero healthcare can't fix."

Sweetheart pondered over the statement for a second before replying.

"Only one broken bone,"

Bitterbat trilled, his eyes lighting up in excitement. "One broken bone!? Oh, my Queen you're so generous to me~!"

Sweetheart added on "And it can't be either of his wings."

"Oh COME ON! You KNOW how badly I wanna break those! You can be as cruel as you are generous sometimes..." Bitterbat pouted, causing Sweetheart to giggle at his response.

[villainessprefect]

~Tell It to My Heart~

title: so anxious, my thoughts

Prompt #5: (Reverse) Being confronted after avoiding them for the past few weeks and you have to tell them that you don’t hate them nor are you angry. You just don’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re in love with them.

Idia x male!reader

Read on AO3

"Idia," you call out his name with a melodic tone. His name lingers on your tongue as it leaves your lips. Your eyes shift to the one beside you, focusing on the fidgety man himself.

Idia takes in a sharp and sudden breath as he hears his name. Hands fiddle with themselves as he gulps and does his best to meet your gaze. He can't hold it for long, but at least he acknowledges your call.

"Wh-What do you want...?" He mumbles, almost looking as if he's dreading the answer.

You put on your best smile in response. You let yourself lean against the desk, holding your head in your hand while staring at him.

"I want you," you hum. The answer comes out so naturally that it's hard for Idia to believe that he even heard you correctly in the first place. How did normies say something like that so easily?! Before he can second guess what you said, you continue. "Did you know, you're so beautiful that you made me forget my original pickup line?"

He blinks once. Twice. Once it registers, he practically turns into a flaming mess. His cheeks turn a blazing red while his hair seems to go out of control with the ends turning pink. The man hides his face behind his tablet, using it as a shield to protect him from your words.

"Y-You're just messing with me!" He practically shrieks.

You shake your head.

"I'm not. Why would I lie to you?"

Your boldness is a little too much for him to handle. Of course, he can think of a million reasons as to why you would want to lie to him. They may be fabricated by his own negativity, but the chance of them being true is possible. Just...relatively low. The most obvious one he turns to is you enjoying playing with his poor heart.

This isn't the first time you've uttered sweet words to his face. In nearly every class you two are in, you spill a bit of your heart out to him. And he can't tell if you're serious or not. Because, really, who would think he's beautiful? Amazing? Wonderful? You? One of the coolest guys here? No way. No, no.

His grip on his tablet tightens and for once, he's grateful that Trein calls for the class's attention. He gets to avoid an answer for the time being. This doesn't save him from you completely though. Whenever he takes a peek your way, he can always catch you wearing a lovestruck smile that's accompanied by a playful wink.

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow," you chirp as the class comes to an end. Idia is quick to gather his things and disappear from the building.

You let out a sigh as he leaves. You've done your best to make it known that, yes, you are indeed interested in Ignihyde's housewarden. That cute gremlin had stolen your heart and you were hoping you could do the same. It isn't easy though. With negative thoughts plaguing him constantly, you sought a bolder route. Maybe you could hammer it into his head that he can be loved. And perhaps he could return your feelings. Although, that's more wishful thinking than anything on your end.

Any dreams you may have of that wish coming true are shattered the following day. Idia isn't at your side. Not even his floating tablet makes an appearance. It's not that surprising, honestly, but he'd been doing fairly well with his attendance.

Instead, you're greeted by Ortho.

"Hello!" The younger Shroud smiles or you assume so as his mouth is covered. "Idia apologizes for not being here today. His tablet is currently undergoing repairs, so I'm here to take notes for him!"

"Oh..." You hold back a sigh and put on a smile for him. It's not bad seeing Ortho, you just...were really excited to see Idia.

The following day, history repeats itself. Only Ortho appears, no tablet or Idia. It's concerning to say the least.

You know Idia is a genius when it comes to technology. If his tablet was busted then fixing it while giving it a random upgrade would be a piece of cake. So the story Ortho is telling has to be a lie. If Idia can't make it then his tablet would 100% take his place.

And at least if his tablet was here you could still try to flirt with him.

As the week goes on without any sign of Idia, your thoughts go south. Maybe you came off too strong? Yeah, that's it. It's hard for him to deal with extroverts and you were acting just like one of them. You didn't think you overstepped though, only saying what you thought was true. Confessing a little of your feelings more and more every day. Perhaps a more subtle approach would have worked instead.

With a heart full of guilt, you pick yourself up from your desk and head to Ignihyde. You think about what to say and how to apologize for your actions. You hate the idea of clamming up and holding back, but if it meant being able to see Idia again? Then you'd stop all your shenanigans at once.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of his room. You raise a hand to knock on his door. You hesitate. Take in a breath. Then your knuckles meet against his door with a couple of taps.

There isn't a response, which is and isn't surprising. You know he is in there but knowing him he'd rather ignore the presence of another person entirely.

"Idia? It's me," you say, raising your voice to ensure that he could hear it.

"Eep!" A squeak escapes from the other side. "N-No one is here!"

You roll your eyes. A lame excuse, yet cute. You can imagine him now, flustered and wanting to hide away. Ugh, if only this door wasn't in the way.

"I came to apologize."

There's a long period of silence. You think to turn back but stand your ground. You're not leaving until he hears your sincerest words.

As you're about to speak, the door opens slightly. Just enough so he can peek out and see you from the smallest opening.

"...For what?" He asks. You look at him and breathe out a sigh of relief. At least he didn't look ill or anything.

"You know...flirting with you? I'm...sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

His eyes widen and he steps away from the door. As he doesn't slam the door on you, you take the chance to enter his room.

"S-So you were doing that just to m-mess with me, huh?!" He accuses.

"No! I wasn't. But when you stopped showing up for class- it was because of me, wasn't it?"

Idia turns away from you. All you can see is the mess of blue flames that flicker against his back. It's so captivating to watch the fire express his true feelings. Hints of pink make their way to the color blue, but they fade out before they can last for a few seconds.

"Yeah, it was." Ouch. "I-I didn't think you were serious about all th-that stuff," he starts after taking in a shaky breath. "I mean, my route is supposed to be an NPC in the BG. I don't get a love interest. And even if I did the route shouldn't be that hard to conquer, but when it comes to IRL? That's like upping the difficulty to the max!"

Now he's pacing back and forth as he continues.

"I've done plenty of dating sims and I know the optimal lines, but I just couldn't say them! My dialogue options totally froze thanks to you! I couldn't even pull up my tablet to talk back. The thought of just typing in what I wanted to say- how could I even do that?! All the things you said just took my HP down to zero. The coolest, SSR tier guy in school telling me such l-lo...nice things. It had to be a dream, right? Your route shouldn't be accessible for some bottom-tier nobody like me. No matter how badly I may want to be your love interest, I w-would never be worth it!"

He comes to a stop as those last words leave his lips. His flaming locks had been out of control as he spoke and now they seemed to freeze alongside him. They only combust into pink as the realization hits and he's forced to use his hoodie to conceal himself. It's a messy job, he's too quick, and pulling up his hood makes pink flames leak out. He doesn't even hide his face fully and has to hold his hands to cover the lower half of his face.

"Sevens just end me now..."

Your gaze never leaves him, listening to every word that had left his lips. It was a mess coming out of him, but you understood what he meant. Your heart begins to race, and guilt no longer plagues you. Well, a little. You never meant to frighten him, but knowing that he harbored feelings for you meant that your attempts weren't in vain.

"You know, I think you're on the right path to completing my route," you say with a smile. Your voice is lighter, softer. If only he could brave himself to see your face in this moment, he may pass out from an exclusive sweet CG.

"You've already maxed out my hearts."

Idia takes in a breath and peers through his fingers. He finds you, smiling. You look so welcoming and accepting and now he really must be dreaming, right? His heart burns and he can't believe that his fumbling, silly, tangent had led him down the good ending route.

While his hair gives away his feelings, he's not one to have control over his expressions either. A toothy grin makes its way onto his face. A little boost of confidence for 'winning' this game seeps through him. His hands fall to his sides and, for a moment, he's proud.

"Of course, I would have! It's only natural for me to do so, fuehehe!"

For such a genius, he can be an idiot. A cute one. Your cute idiot.

[swaglet]

One of the things that keeps me deep in ed is the fact that i hate having a "feminine body" I HATEEEEE having curves liek fucking hate it.

And the problem is no amount of weight loss will change the structure of my body so unfortunately I have to try to keep myself at a low weight to appear as if I have less curves.

Idk if you watched euphoria but rue (character played by zendaya) has my dream body she's so tall, skinny, "flat" like she looks "boyish" (i swear im not a creep 😭) and I so wanna look like that every time I wear something and see my curves pop out I wanna take a seesaw and just fucking remove them.

Whenever I discuss this w my friends they either tell me I'm humble bragging or they try to tell me that I'm non binary or some bullshit.

Like I jsut wanna have a slender body. Curves to me jsut make me look trashy and too "sexed up" I wanna look like a stick with no shape ffs

under a cut cos its kinda triggering material obvs and im yapping

oh nonnie this is exactly what kept me sick for so long too i'm so sorry to hear this is what you're going through as well :'( my mind always felt at ease when people told me i looked more like a little boy than a grown woman for reasons i'm sure we all have experienced at one time or another (COUGH misogyny and harassment and sexualization and objectification and and and)

i'm actually dealing with the fallout of it rn and it still messes with me mentally... 6 months ago i started birth control to stop my periods entirely to manage my pmdd and the excessive amount of blood i was losing during every period, and while my weight itself hasn't drastically changed at all (it stays within 5 pounds maintenance thanks to the lifting and protein usually i think), any of the body fat i DID has redistributed to make me even curvier than i was before. my boobs and ass are prominent parts of my figure now like they got HUGE compared to how they used to be (FLAT) and i have a small amount of new stretch marks on the inside of my thighs which means they must have gotten meatier and that checks out because a lot of my pantlegs and shorts feel tighter. literally because of that i almost relapsed so many times in the past 6 months but ive had the mental fortitude to just ignore the urge

what has helped me a lot is that, as i have gotten close to the people in my life that are related to my accomplishments that i am proud of (a lot of it having to do with college and my local music scene) and have become comfortable with opening up to them about feeling the way i do, almost all the women in my life have shared that they relate at least a little bit, but that my appearance and certainly not my weight or amount of curves i have don't bear any weight (pun intended) on determining how much they respect me, how talented they think i am, how good they think i am at my job/the things i do, how willing they are to work with me, and stuff like that. many of them have also offered me the advice that we only get one body, and there's only so much you can do to alter the natural shape of your body, and then within those limits there's only so much you can do that's healthy and won't disable you or damage your organs for the rest of your life, and it's unfortunate that men have made our bodies out to be this sexed object but we do really only have one shot at life and ultimately i think it's pointless trying to meticulously control how everyone around us perceives us. to be honest i have felt a lot better about it since i have been making less and less men as friends and making more women friends.

i want to say that curves, or any body shape, aren't trashy or too sexed up, they're just neutral forms that your body takes. you have little to no control over how your genetics and environment shape your bones and distribute your fat patterns aside from exercising in a way that keeps your body working and eating a nutritious diet to fuel you, so the shape of your body literally cannot have like. moral implications like trashy or slutty or sexed up or anything. i repeat that to myself when i look in the mirror every morning. my body is completely neutral no matter how it looks; my body is not the vessel that i, a formless brain, pilot around in the real world; my body is not a physical representation of me.. my body is just part of me, i am my body, my body is me, and anything my body looks like is how i look and that's how life is. i don't have to like how i look, i am allowed to be uncomfortable with it, but nothing is wrong with my body unless something physiologically about me is unwell (ex. joint pain, something is swollen or red, a medical issue basically) or is making me sick or unable to function. if it's something i can't control and can't change drastically without surgery or severely under- or overeating, like my boob size, butt size, thigh gap size, the shape of how my bones fit together and how my muscles and fat lays on top of the bones, then i just do the stupid therapy thing where instead of thinking negative thoughts i think a different thought and don't let myself ruminate on the negative ones i'm fixated on. for example, "my strong healthy non-starved body lets me play my trumpet very loudly and march strongly with force; underneath my gigantic ribcage is a gigantic set of lungs" or "my strong healthy non-starved body lets me go on bug hunts often without getting as tired and weak and needing to stop because now it's full of food that fuels me all day long and i eat like a cavewoman who was built to endurance hunt and gather trinkets all day" and one that i'm sure not many can relate to is "my healthy body lets me sweat now so i don't overheat and although sweating may be unpleasant and very uncomfortable it lets me know i'm alive and that my body is working correctly" and then i try my best to move on with my day

another thing i do is i pay A LOT of attention to the women around me who i look up to and respect; what do they look like? do i ever notice their weight or their curves and feel negatively towards them and have diminished respect towards them or feel disdain towards them? or do i feel a kinship with them if i do ever happen to notice, like "oh she is like me in that regard"? there has never been an instance where i have felt negatively about a woman in my life or lost any respect for her because of her shape, curves or no curves. i'm much more concerned about other things tbh, especially as i get older. idk how old you are nonnie, but in my experience it's very easy to be "boyish" anorexic when you're in your teens and like at the oldest 19 years old... even without synthetic female hormones (birth control) being added to my body, and even with a hormonal imbalance, at about 21 i started rly "growing up" and that's when i got hips and a little bit bigger boobs (still A cups nonetheless) and put on a bit of a belly pooch even when i was still way too underweight. those are just parts of a woman that exist on our bodies naturally and there isn't any judgement to be ascribed to them. every professor, every janitor, every coach, every grown 21+ student walking around my campus (and town!) looks like that regardless of what shape or size we come in. naturally underweight, naturally overweight, neither, curvy, blocky, straight as a board/fridge, regardless of what shape that's just how women are shaped i think. i wouldn't ever judge another woman for looking the way i look, i wouldn't judge another woman for her shape Ever, regardless of what i think her circumstances are, so by that logic i ought to apply that to myself.

another thing that brings me comfort, and you may not believe me with this one but im serious; nobody notices all the things you notice about yourself anywhere NEAR as much as you do. ppl who have known me for 4 years think im 120 pounds (i am 30 pounds heavier than that and they are always in disbelief when i tell them that) and always have no idea i have a small potbelly until i lift my shirt and show them. it's like one of my biggest insecurities in the world and literally no one knows or cares which is insane to me. if i ever get sad about it i tell myself that's where i keep my ovarian cyst at + all my air for when i sing/play instruments and it will go away with time as i get more gains and start eating right again

and nonny!!!!! "slender/stick with no shape" is still just as much of a shape as "feminine/curvy" ! male is not the default no matter how much society wants u to believe that i promise......... there is nothing wrong with the way women's bodies are this is how we have existed naturally for thousands of years since we first got here. our bodies are just as neutral as men's bodies are. it took me a long long time to feel this way about myself and about my body and about the human body in general and recovery is never linear, my outlook changes every day and i have good days and bad days and some days i absolutely just will not go outside because i don't want anyone to look at me. but those have been far and few between lately

i love u very much anon. food definitely tastes better than how skinny feels. living life freely feels better than looking perfectly skinny in an aesthetic outfit. aesthetic outfits are for 1 day. aesthetic outfits and a skinny slender form will be in pictures and they will only last in the pictures. i don't want to scare you but you will either die like that (very slowly) or you will get very unwell and realize you have to choose recovery and you will have to gain it all back slowly and you will have to choose yourself everyday. idk. i put myself through so much agony that i didn't have to go through and looking back on those pictures im thinking in my head. what was all that for? i felt better then but it's so scary to me now. i looked so sick it makes me so sad for little me. i wish she could have lived a life where she wasn't preoccupied with being perceived as a sex object and could have lived free like i do now. BUT WE THRIVE. I BELIEVE IN YOU NONNIE I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH

[bookofbolden]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Generic Store PARTIES: Syd ( @felinefrenzies ) & Eleanor SUMMARY: While grocery shopping Eleanor runs into Syd who is in the middle of an intense battle with the beast within. WARNINGS: None!

Groceries. It was a necessary evil that Eleanor had had the pleasure of forgetting about while she’d lived with her sister. She simply wrote on the chalkboard door of the pantry what she needed from the store and it appeared almost like magic. Now she had to get all of her things together, including her long list, and trudge to the store herself. Not that she could really complain, she didn’t want to be in the apartment for too much longer than absolutely necessary, it had been left a mess and somehow seemed even more so after her return.

Almost immediately after she’d walked into The Generic Store the cashier gave off some mildly irritated vibes but Eleanor could understand, she wouldn’t have wanted to be at work and miss out on whatever else was going on outside of the store, either. She smiled at the worker and continued on her way to the groceries as she took out her list. Only a few other people roamed the aisles and they were all either extremely calm or just a little bit anxious as they made sure they had gotten everything they’d come for. Because of the lack of strong emotions within the vicinity, the feeling of dread and distress was as noticeable to her as if the person had announced that they were feeling it.

Eleanor looked over her shoulder and offered a kind smile in hopes of calming the stranger. “Hello, I’m not in your way, am I?”

Syd leaned against the cereal aisle, gaze fixated on the stupid off brand Tony the Tiger. Their vision blurred ever so slightly, off brand Tony dancing in the corner of their eye as they looked away, as if mocking them. From one cat to another, it sang. Syd clenched their teeth and tried to focus on the ring of their heart in their ears, of the way it sounded, a rhythmic beat to the discussion and footfalls of shoppers in and around the store. They’d been through this time and time again, and they could do it again. There were faces they knew here, and they couldn’t risk the chance of shedding their skin, of hurting the very woman who had handed them their diploma several years back. 

They’d been so focused on controlling the shift, from keeping it at bay that they hadn’t noticed somebody was next to them now. Concern echoed in their voice and Syd tore their eyes away from a neighboring box of low sugar off brand Toucan– what the fuck was that bird’s name?  Their company stood only a few feet away, and the warnings that fell at the back of Syd’s throat were swallowed by the anxiety of possibly creating shreds out of the person in front of them. “No,” Syd stammered, tightening their grip on the shelf. The jaguar hummed, circling them as if prey. “Sorry, I’m–” They let out a soft laugh that came out as a hiss, unfurling into something of a growl. Quickly, Syd covered it up by coughing into their arm. “I think I left the house before the flu left me.” They gave a half-assed smile, tongue moving against teeth, against cheek– anything to keep them rooted. “Did you need…” They looked at the aisle they were in again, then to off brand Tony. “This?” 

Eleanor could tell that something awful brewed just below the surface but she didn’t want to call too much attention to it. Some people preferred to pretend that nothing was going on even if they were going through some of the worst moments of their life. “No need to apologize, I’m sorry that you’re not feeling well. I can bet that it must be miserable being sick in this weather. Have you been getting enough fluids? Have you tried chicken noodle soup? Whenever I haven’t been feeling my best I typically give it about a week and then if things aren’t getting better I go to the doctor.” She knew that she’d started to ramble so she stopped herself. “Not that you asked for any of my advice. I’m sorry, you're an adult, you know how to take care of yourself.” She blushed, but she had genuinely just wanted to offer some kind of help because it was obvious between the stuttering and the swirling dark cloud of emotions within them that things weren’t going well.

Although Eleanor hadn’t been in the market for the off brand cereal she nodded and took it anyhow, adding it to the small selection of items in her basket. “Sure, I appreciate it.” She looked them over one more time then turned as though she were going to leave. She’d gotten halfway down the aisle before she turned and went back, her heart unable to allow her to simply walk away. “I’m sorry, and please tell me to buzz off if I’m prying, but you don’t seem well. Is there anything I can do, someone I can call for you? You shouldn't be out if you’re feeling this terribly - what are you shopping for? I can grab it for you so you don’t have to be on your feet for too long.”

Most people would move on after being advised that the person they were speaking to had the flu, but the girl ahead of her stayed put, concern pulling over her features. Frustration flickered brightly at the center of Syd’s chest. They wanted to tell her to leave, that they didn’t need the suggestions. Because that much was true, they didn’t. They could take care of themself. The sound of the front door opening, a bell ringing– the till, the count of change, the exchanging of thank you’s, it hit Syd from every side. It was hard to ignore. On top of it all, the smiling brunette had the audacity to be kind. The longer Syd stood there, the more their irritation grew, and they felt horrible for directing it at somebody who was only trying to help. “Chicken noodle soup, no. Pozole.” Through clenched teeth, Syd continued, “you should try it sometime.” Maybe the brunette already had. It was easier to focus on the comfort of a warm meal than it was to focus on the tiles beneath their feet and how it might feel to press their face against them. They’d be cool to the touch, they were sure, and maybe it’d soothe the sweat that had begun to break out at the back of their neck. 

“S’okay,” Syd coughed out again, attempting to hide a pained whimper as the jaguar tugged at the corners of their mind, as if luring them inward in order to take total and complete control. “Appreciate it all the same, actually.” It was harder to speak now than it had been previously, and that wasn’t good. They knew that. Syd moved to the side slightly as the brunette reached for the box of cereal. A blur of colors danced in the corner of their vision as they kept their eyes on the shelf’s price display. They traced each number carefully, one breath in, one breath out. She was retreating, and Syd felt some minor relief that maybe she would leave the store before the jaguar split the seams of the individual standing there. Syd hoped so. Nobody that kind should be mauled in a grocery outlet. The footfalls stopped, and Syd let out a huff, ready to explain that yes, she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, all for the sake of ridding a victim from a soon to be crime scene. But instead, Syd refocused, staring at the toucan on the stupid cereal box. They memorized the colors, thought of them on human skin, the thrum of the tattoo gun in their hand. Grounding techniques, that was what their father had called them. Important, to beings like them. “Call? No, nobody to call.” Their parents were in Arizona, and it wasn’t like Meredith needed to be bothered, they were only just now reconnecting. “You’re really fucking nice and all, but look, I don’t– I would have asked for your help if I needed it, alright?” Frustration plucked at Syd’s vocal cords and their voice broke slightly at the end of the sentence. Agitation burrowed itself, dragging away the kindness that Syd had been born with. “Fuck, sorry, I just– it’s so fucking loud in here, right? So fucking loud.” 

There was a flash of frustration and Eleanor took another miniscule step back. Had she said something unkind, out of line? She didn’t think so, but not everyone received unsolicited advice well, perhaps that had been the other’s breaking point. She was sure that if she’d felt awful out in public and someone came along yapping about soup and doctors then surely she too would become irritated. But this was different, it had to be, it couldn’t have all been aimed at herself - the irritation, fear, anger… it was all too much to have occurred during their brief exchange of words. But still, they offered up another bit of conversation and she took it because she didn’t know what else to do in such a situation. “I have! It’s very good, one of my best friends makes it.” But her words sounded forced, scared. What could have caused such a storm within them? It wasn’t her place to get to the bottom of it, she needed to learn where to draw the line, but she also wouldn’t have forgiven herself if she were to just walk away and leave them in such a state.

Their response was exactly what Eleanor had expected so it didn’t hurt her feelings when they lashed out, she simply nodded and smiled sadly. Hadn’t she always done the same thing? Lashing out was a whole hell of a lot easier than trying to explain whatever was going on inside of her mind so no, she hadn’t been offended. But it did still worry her. “No need to apologize, I was just offering it. Whenever I see someone who might need a helping hand I offer, but you by no means have to accept it, I understand that you’re wanting your space.” She let out a breath and brought her palm to her forehead as though checking for a fever. The intensity of their emotions had started to create a headache. “Yes, it’s very loud in here, I agree. I hope that I’m not coming down with something myself.” Although the volume she was complaining about happened to be on a different wavelength, one she was sure they were unable to hear. “I’m Eleanor. I don’t think I’m supposed to give out my name freely, but I want you to know who I am just in case… you ever need anything? Whatever’s going on, flu or otherwise, it’ll all pass. I’m sure your family and friends would be more than willing to listen to anything you have to say about what might be going on, and if not then… I don’t know. I’m here, too. I’m no therapist, I don’t claim to be one, but I’m really good at listening despite my habit of always talking.” She didn’t want to leave, as much as being around them pained her, so she went further down the aisle as she had before but stopped to pretend to be very interested in the loaves of bread on the shelf.

It was at inopportune times like these that the jaguar had wanted to come out, desire to be freed from its vessel trumping any reason that Syd tried to make. The last thing they wanted to do was hurt anybody, and they knew that leaving sooner rather than later was probably their best bet at doing little to no harm. But it was hard to move– to put one foot in front of the other. They could barely focus on each and every breath that filled their lungs, a labor in its own right– defying the very spirit that lived within them, coaxing Syd to release any and all control. Their grip on the shelf tightened, and they leaned into it gently, careful to not put their full weight as they didn’t want tons of cereal boxes to come crashing down. It didn’t seem like the brunette was hurt by her words, which was a surprise in itself. Instead, it looked like she understood the aggression, tucking it away for further investigation. 

Syd tried their best to focus on her words, to allow them to carry them further from the tightening in their chest. It felt odd, being talked down so gently after misplaced cruelty stained their words. “No, it’s–” Another sharp inhale, another clench of the jaw. “Ah, fuck. Hope not. Sure it’s going around town, though.” Syd wasn’t actually sick with anything, so maybe the girl– now named Eleanor, was using empathy as a means to distract them. “Don’t worry, not gonna use your name against you. I don’t even use Facebook. Plus, I’m sure there’s loads of other Eleanors in town.” It hadn’t occurred to them that there was a deeper seated meaning to her words, but it was hard to focus on that. “You talk like a therapist. Not that it’s a bad thing.” The words came out raspy, a hollowed out version of Syd’s typical cadence. “Never been to a shrink, though.” Never had to, before now. Were there such things as balam shrinks? Would they be able to tap into the jaguar and coax a level of understanding? Maybe they should look into that. “My name is Syd.” If they focused on the conversation, then maybe it would pass. They could feel the feverish warmth at the back of their neck beginning to subside, a sign that perhaps the jaguar was relenting. “You do this a lot?” Syd asked after a moment of listening to the other noises from within the store, “talk people down who have the flu in the cereal aisle, I mean.” 

The comment about Facebook confused Eleanor for a moment and she wondered if they even understood what she had meant by the layered comment. Perhaps they really were sick and it wasn’t anything supernatural… that would be strange simply because it wasn’t strange. Everything that happened in this town had to be weird, right? It was the law or something. It just wasn’t feasible to Eleanor that this person was plainly sick with the common flu. She shrugged one shoulder and attempted a chuckle. “I’ve been to plenty of therapists, I know their lingo. Going to one isn’t a bad thing, it’s not admitting weakness or anything like that, sometimes you just need someone to talk to you, someone who doesn’t know a thing about you and can give everything a glance from the outside - it’s really helped me.” How they had moved from the subject of possibly catching a virus to her trying to coax them into therapy she wasn’t sure, but as long as they spoke with her the more she would continue as well. It seemed to work as a distraction, keeping them from completely toppling over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Syd. Lovely name.” Eleanor wondered if it was short for Sydney but then decided that it was none of her business. Syd, as they had introduced themself, was all she needed to know. At their question she truly laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I'm laughing because… no, no I don’t talk people down from the flu in the cereal aisle often. But I give myself damn good pep talks in the bathroom mirror so I’m using all of my skills I’ve learned by doing that - is it working? Because if it is then I need to give myself a raise.” There was a gradual shift in the atmosphere that indicated that perhaps they had started to feel a tad bit better and Eleanor took that as a sign that she was doing well. It felt good to be the one to help someone else for a change. “What brought you out to the store with the flu, Syd? All of the DoorDashers busy?”

Syd snorted. When leaving the campsite today, they hadn’t anticipated a minor panic attack in the cereal aisle of a store they had gone to since they were a child. Syd was positive that if their parents had service, Glenn, the manager of the place, would be calling them erratically asking what had gotten into Syd. Everyone knew each other here, it seemed. Except Syd knew that Wicked’s Rest wasn’t really that small of a place– it just so happened that they were a creature of habit, frequenting the same places that their parents had. 

“You should be a marketer for them.” Syd took another deep breath, gaze flashing up to the ceiling to seek out the patterns of the tiles above their heads. “Maybe I’ll look into it one day.” If balam therapists were a thing, they’d jump at the chance, no questions asked. They didn’t think they’d get that lucky. Maybe they’d have to find somebody else– a zombie therapist who understood what it was like to no longer be in control. There was a degree of separation, but Syd felt as though that was their best bet. “I’m glad it’s helped you, though. You seem to know what you’re talking about.” Eleanor’s voice was helping keep Syd’s mind off of the thrashing in their mind. It was a constant tug-o-war, keeping the jaguar at bay, silently pleading with it to give them a moment within their own body. 

Then again, like Syd normally did, Eleanor could be talking out of her ass. Syd, however, was incapable of dissecting the true meaning of the other’s words. “Ah, shit. No, you’re totally laughing at me. ‘S alright, I get it. I’m sick in the cereal aisle.” Not sick, but plagued with the spirit of something they should have been able to harmonize with. Syd finally tore their gaze from the ceiling. It landed back on Eleanor and they let out a laugh of their own, however it sounded congested and strained, as if being peeled from their lungs. “You should ask for a raise, deffo.” They gave a curt nod, pushing away from the shelf slightly, grip loosening. “I can be my own DoorDasher, y’know?” Their reasoning for why they looked violently ill was slipping. Realistically, nobody should go out when they were sick. Syd looked like they didn’t care about those around them, and they didn’t like that, but it was too late to fall back on the excuse now. “Thought it was over, then it fucked me up again is all. You know, false hope.” For somebody who engaged in therapeutic discussions, surely Eleanor wouldn’t be able to argue the topic of false hope. “Hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you deserve a gold star. Not many people’d take a look at someone hunched against a shelf and ask if they were okay.” Syd’s voice was still strained, but the cloud of agitation was dissipating. 

It was Eleanor’s turn to scoff. “Perhaps if the whole writing thing doesn’t work out then I’ll definitely either become a therapist or a marketer for them. Maybe BetterHelp can sponsor my upcoming book.” She joked, glad to have gotten some amusement out of them. She shrugged and fiddled with the basket in her hands. “I just know how to sound like I know what I’m talking about. It’s a skill, really, one that I inherited from someone in the past.” One of her past foster fathers had been one of the best bullshitters she’d ever met in her life - she’d learned from him how to boost herself up in the best way possible but she only used it whenever necessary. She noticed that Syd had started to take deep breaths which was a good sign, it meant that they had at least started the process of calming down.

Eleanor bit her lip to keep from laughing again. “I swear that I’m not laughing at you but you have to admit that this kind of interaction isn’t necessarily… normal. Did you wake up planning to speak with a stranger next to colorful boxes of cereal because she refused to leave you alone while you were sick? I’m self aware enough to know that I’m a little annoying but, I don’t know, I think sometimes it pays off.” The gold star comment made another giggle rise out of her. She liked Syd, even if they did seem like they were going through a lot more than they were willing to disclose. She probably wouldn't have been comfortable laying everything out on the table, either. But she could tell from the emotions that flowed from them that a lot more was going on with them whether they’d admit it or not. “I’m a sucker for gold stars, the other kids in my class used to hate me because I’d do everything I could to get one added to my chart every day. I was that kid.” She allowed her smile to fade just a tad so that she looked more serious. “Are you sure you’re alright? I’ve asked that a million times but please, if there’s truly anything I can do let me know. Maybe I could help you out of this stupid aisle? I’m sure that tiger staring at you isn’t helping.”

“Yeah, who knows. Maybe they’ll jump at the chance.” Syd grimaced, knowing well enough that continuing to talk through things like it was all fine probably would have turned out not fine, and leaving was definitely the smarter thing to do, but Eleanor’s kindness was hard to turn down. “A book though, really? Yeah, I guess that tracks. You look like a writer.” In a way that books wrote about writers, but Syd wasn’t sure that Eleanor would take that as a compliment. Syd definitely meant it as one. Not that they read a whole lot, but still. “Oh, so you’re bullshitting me? Does therapy even really work?” They steeled themselves, knowing the joke probably didn’t hit the way they wanted it to given the fact that they were trying not to fall apart. “That was a joke.” Maybe that would help. 

“I think that I plan on that every day. It’s what keeps me going.” Syd tilted their head back, letting out another breath, pushing the jaguar out from the corners of their mind. It was still circling, a constant thing, claws ripping into her psyche, but she could handle it. Could coax it into submission, at least for the time being. Without really knowing if it was the death of Callum or the abnormality that had done this to her, she had no way of fixing it, but taking deep breaths did help, and so did having somebody to talk to about it, even if it wasn’t necessarily the truth, and instead just a simple distraction or two. As Eleanor went on to explain that she gained the most gold stars out of any other kid in her grade, Syd nodded. “Yeah, that also fucking tracks. You look like one of those kids who’d put it in a whole ass sticker book or something. It’s probably in a box somewhere, right?” Eleanor was making it easy to make fun of her, and Syd felt a little bad. “That was another joke, by the way, even if it’s kind of true?” They leaned away from the shelf finally, realigning their gaze with Eleanor’s, no longer tracing out the patterns of the ceiling. “The flu is a bitch, what can I say?” Syd wore a lopsided smile that looked more like a grimace, so she tried a little harder, pushing it to reach her eyes. “The tiger can’t do shit to me, but uh, I really– seriously, thanks for hanging out while I go through the ten stages of what the fuck is happening.” 

Although some might not have taken it as a compliment Eleanor was thrilled to hear that she “looked like a writer”. She had always been able to point out an author in any crowd simply by the way they dressed and handled themself and she wanted to give herself a pat on the back for being able to emulate such a presence. “I’ve spent years trying to perfect my wardrobe and even my hair - I think the new bangs are what really ties the whole look together. It’s even more evident whenever I wear my glasses - I see that as a compliment whenever someone is able to guess that I write for a living. What do you do, if I may ask?” She wanted to continue the conversation because it seemed that she and Syd had finally gotten to a place of friendliness. “Oh, it definitely works, I can assure you of that. I would be absolutely falling apart at the seams if not for my therapist. But I know a joke when I hear it.” She winked at them.

“Well in that case I need to start planning very strange and specific things to do in my day. This has been nice, getting to meet a lovely new person.” Eleanor liked Syd a lot and she hoped that maybe if they were to run into one another at a different time that it would be under better circumstances. She blushed but nodded to answer the other’s question. “Actually… I believe it’s in a box in my parents’ home. My mother is very sentimental about things like that. She wants to bring out all of my book reports and essays anytime someone speaks about my books - she wants the world to know how young I began writing but I find it a bit embarrassing.” She subconsciously mimicked Syd and took a deep breath, happy to see them finally standing up straight and making eye contact. “Talking is what I do best! I’m always happy whenever someone’s around who I can yap to so thank you for making my day better. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have met under better circumstances, maybe we’ll run into one another soon enough and we can have an actual conversation. I promise that I won’t completely talk your ear off, I’ll listen to any and everything you have to say since you’ve allowed me to get carried away this time.”

Syd couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as Eleanor went on to explain that she purposely dressed as a writer, hoping others would deduce as such. Yeah, maybe that was important– being proud of whatever you did. When Syd worked at the tattoo shop, it’d been a lot more obvious what they did for a living, but now that that was behind them, nobody ever really pointed at them and said campsite manager. Not unless they knew them from before, at least. “I run the three pines with my parents.” This time, as they spoke, it wasn’t said through gritted teeth. That was good, at least– a change in direction, a chance that the jaguar was beginning to settle down. They let out another chuckle, this time more strained, as Eleanor reassured them that therapy did in fact work. “Alright, you’ve got me. You therapized me here, I’m a believer now.” Not quite, but on the fringes of it. Eleanor had in fact helped them calm down considerably. 

Lovely was a stretch, but Syd made no move to correct her. Maybe in another life, they would’ve been lovely to meet, all toothy grins and an arm wrapped around her shoulder as they showed her to the seat where she’d get her first tattoo, because they definitely wouldn’t have met in the cereal aisle where Syd was having a meltdown. No way. That was definitely not the way Syd liked to meet people, nor the way they liked to leave a lasting impression. “Of fucking course you do.” This time it was a snort instead of a chuckle. “Cute, though. Sounds like a good mom.” Their mom was the same. Even if the first time they’d come home with a tattoo, they’d nearly been disowned. Over time, they accepted that the art Syd created wasn’t meant for a sketchbook, and rather for their skin, and that of their peers. “I feel like that should be the case, though. Pretty fucking important, to be proud of something like that. Not everyone just writes a book.” That wasn’t necessarily true, so Syd amended, “or is good at it.” They didn’t know if Eleanor’s books were good or not, but they made a mental note to at least find it on audio book. “Nah, you’re– you did more than enough.” Eleanor didn’t need to stop at all, and Syd was grateful she did, even if annoyance had transcended that feeling entirely during their first moments. “But uh, I’m good– flu is hitting the road or whatever.” 

The jaguar was still antagonistic, and it’d be good to go home and avoid any more uphill battles. “Not every day somebody stops and talks to somebody who’s bitching at them for being too loud.” Not that Syd had been yelling at Eleanor specifically, but it could’ve come across as that. “I appreciate you though, for real. Uh, keep… being a therapist to people in the streets. Or don’t, maybe not– maybe a bad idea.” Especially here. “Maybe only do it in public places?” They let out another short laugh. 

Laughter was a good sign and Eleanor once again gave herself a pat on the back for the progress Syd had made. She hadn’t been entirely sure that any of her efforts would affect them at all so to see such a change made her happy. “That sounds wonderful, I’m guessing you’re outside a lot? That’s the perfect time to just let loose and take a couple deep breaths in case you’re ever needing to calm yourself. It worked for me although I’m sure my neighbors believed me to be completely off my rocker after that time I went out into the rain to do some deep breathing. It couldn’t wait, I needed to do it then and there.” She wasn’t sure if Syd meant what they said about her convincing them that therapy worked, but since she’d accomplished her goal of calming them down that was all that mattered to her. “Good. I’m glad that I could be of assistance.”

Syd’s words encouraged Eleanor. She knew what a difficult road it was to write books, much less books that were welcomed with open arms by the public and did well, so it was nice to have some recognition. “I’m obviously not the best but my books do well enough for me to live off of what I make from them, that’s a huge deal in the writing community. I don’t like to sound like I’m bragging though, no one likes someone who talks about themself during the entire conversation, so back to you: I’m glad that you’re feeling better. I’m sure the flu probably just got annoyed with me and decided to abandon ship. It was my pleasure being able to be your makeshift therapist for a little while, but I certainly don’t think that I’ll be doing it too often. I got lucky running into someone who didn’t try to fight me or something because I was only trying to help. I hope you have a lovely rest of your day, you should definitely go home and rest so that you don't get sick again.” She shifted awkwardly onto the balls of her feet because she was unsure how to end the conversation. “Goodbye Syd, hopefully we’ll run into each other again when you’re feeling better.” She offered them one last smile then finally turned and actually continued on down the aisle to continue her shopping.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Sweet Grains (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Modern AU, Bakery AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: Talk of eating disorders and low self-esteem (based on personal experience, so don’t be a twat), Alfie being a proper gentleman

Summary: Kindness can go a long way. A loaf of bread, a cup of coffee, a conversation to break up the pressure that comes with ambition. Alfie Solomons, the most feared man in Camden and perhaps the whole of London, is full of these little bits of sweetness.

Not that he would admit this outright, of course. However, the men at the bakery certainly notice a change in his demeanour whenever you pop by.

But when you do so to drop off a gift, there soon rises a bitterness that excels that of the dark roast served at The Old Rum House Bakery. Yet, as with the darkest of coffees, Alfie works his magic to reduce the awful taste.

Because he wants the best for you, who is starting to be more than a friend to him. Who else will he grant the privilege of eating his soda bread?

He wants you.

And a new bookie.

Tag List: @zablife @vir-tual @babaohhhriley @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @dreamlandcreations @solomons-finest-rum @mollybegger-blog @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @rose-like-the-phoenix @wandawiccan60

TH Masterlist

Gratitude is easy and simultaneously terrifying to show.

Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be alright.

The tin in my hands feels like it’s filled with stones rather than cookies. Also, the design of it, navy blue with gold and flowers, suddenly doesn’t seem that great of an idea either. It would be a shame to throw it away, but the thought of asking for it back once it’s empty makes me uneasy. After all, it’s a gift.

While gathering my courage, I watch people stroll by the bakery in front of me. It is mostly locals who stop to check out the fully stocked window display. Tourists tend to get their food elsewhere in the market. However, even in Croydon they can vouch for the quality and taste of The Old Rum House Bakery in Camden. 

Recently I’ve been popping by here to study for the AAT Bookkeeping exam. Partially because I want to expand and develop my personal skill set, but primarily because I’m well over being a barista and working for minimum wage. The owner, Alfie Solomons, has been kind enough to help me. Although, perhaps it’s better to say he insisted on it in his own way.

The tall burly man kept walking past me and looking over my shoulder during the first few days. Now, I can’t blame him because who wouldn’t get curious when someone sets up an improvised office in their business? On the first day, I was ready to pack up and leave in the blink of an eye. The hairs on the back of my neck remained upright, my hands jittery with the anticipation of being told by a gravelly voice to leave so there would be space for more customers.

But those words were never said.

Alfie let me sit for as long as I wanted.

The one time I had the nerve to meet his gaze, he plopped down in the chair across from me and told me he’d teach me the books. Just like that. I blinked, gobsmacked by his blunt and rather hellbent statement. Since then, he’s been my mentor.

And I don’t want to disappoint him.

One… two… three. Let’s go!

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?” The voice in my ear pierces through the hubbub of the busy street, packed with people enjoying the rare London sunshine by roaming around. Snapped out of my reverie yet still drowsy with dread, I turn to the man with black curly hair who has appeared at my side.

“Ollie, hey, hi! Is- Um, is Alfie… in? Today, I mean? Now?” It’s silly, reduced to a blabbering mess because of a person I know decently well. For as far as one can know another when in a mentor-student relation. Although, sometimes it seems we’re more than that.

Our conversations know no limits, freely flowing over tea and coffee. I can never leave without a loaf of soda bread he refuses to sell despite it being a piece of heaven. It has this certain sweet element, which he refuses to reveal what it is. However, there is one thing I value above all else.

He always makes time for me. No matter whether it’s rush hour or quiet, early in the morning when the bread is still being baked or late in the afternoon when there’s barely anything left and inventory has to be taken, Alfie stops being a business owner and becomes my mentor. Or, rather, my friend. Although, perhaps that’s a step too far. 

We’re close acquaintances.

Very close acquaintances.

The assistant brand manager of the bakery chuckles. “Yeah, he is.”

“Great! Can you give him this?” I hold the tin out to him.

“Why don’t you give it yourself? I’m just returning from my break so he can go on one. I’ll fetch him for you.”

“Oh, no, I’m kinda busy and-’’

“Don’t be shy. Come on in.” Ollie holds the door open and gestures for me to go inside.

Mentally cursing myself, I take a deep breath and step forwards.

The warm scent of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee hangs in the air, vibrant like the murmur of hushed conversation and the clinking of tableware. Here and there some tables are occupied with the customers who remain from the rush hour caused by lunch. However, most of them are almost done. In the back, a couple gets up to leave. Unsurprisingly, their smiles are content.

Because the food here would be fit for a king. 

As soon as I cross the threshold, the broad-shouldered man with slicked back brown curly hair behind the counter turns around. He grows still when his sea blue eyes fall on me, the loaf of bread in his hands entirely forgotten.

My heart skips a beat, skittish under the intensity of his gaze. I grip the tin in my hands a little tighter, but the metal does nothing to cool the flush of heat that washes over me. A queasy feeling starts to set up in my stomach when the awareness I’m showing more skin than usual hits. Nevertheless, I put on a mask and muster a smile. “Hey.”

Alfie clears his throat. He blinks a few times like he’s been rudely woken and needs to ground himself in reality again. An unusual awkward groan falls from his lips as he places the bread he’s holding on a nearby counter, wipes his hands on his apron, and then nods in greeting. “Shalom, love.”

What was that reaction?

The sound of my heels on the stone tiles is incredibly loud in my ears as I come closer. Even an elephant would walk more gracefully and quietly in them than I do. Unfortunately, in my enthusiasm I didn’t calculate in the time it would take for me to learn how to wear them properly and move like a sophisticated woman rather than a lumbering individual.

“I popped by to give you these.” I hold the gift I prepared out to him. “As a thank you for teaching me how to bookkeep.”

“You made these?” he asks as he gratefully accepts the tin. His expression brightens as he inspects the oatmeal cookies inside.

“They’re orange and apricot with a bit of salt. Also, they’re kosher. Spent the entire day in the kitchen trying to get them right.’’ I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and glance at the floor. ‘‘I’m not much of a baker, unlike you.”

“Want me to start teachin’ you that too?”

“What?’’ Mouth dry, I stare at him before I break out in a panic mess of words. ‘‘Oh, no! No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. I mean, you have a business to run and-’’

“I wouldn’t mind. Besides, I free up time for you anyway so you can learn the books proper.” He puts the lid back on the tin and carefully places it next to the loaf of bread he held earlier. Then he crosses his arms and leans on the counter. The shadows the artificial light cast on his skin accentuates how sculpted they are, hardened by working long hours. “Time spent in good company ain’t wasted.”

“Look, it’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time. You should have a moment for yourself as well.”

Completely ignoring my remark, he continues in the same casual tone. “Kitchen is awfully busy durin’ work hours, so it’d have to be after closin’ or really early in the mornin’. Also, I’m not gonna put you among the men. No, if I’m to teach you, it’ll be only us. Way safer and more comfortable, innit? Now, I don’t think you’d like me knockin’ on your door at four when not even the pigeons-’’

“Why?” I ask, nibbling on my lower lip.

“Why what?”

“Why would you pick me up?”

Am I really worth the effort?

“Because London isn’t a safe place for doves. The shadows want to tarnish their pretty feathers, corrupt and break their kind spirits. I don’t want that to happen.” For a moment we look at each other, silently assessing where his comment puts us. His expression still unreadable, careful to conceal the sentiments he harbours towards me, Alfie continues. “If you stay after hours, I could see you safely off to the tube before dusk. If you trust and would let me, of course.”

Surprised by the offer, I open and close my mouth. Nevertheless, no answer or adequate response comes to mind. The absence of a hint he’s joking or simply being politely nonchalant also makes it hard to respond. 

“No means no, don’t it?” A quicksilver smile flashes over his lips, half-hidden beneath his bushy whiskers. “Think it over. You can accept or reject the offer whenever. Until then, it stands.”

Why me? Why not someone else? Plenty of women would kill to be made the same offer by you. I’m not worth the trouble.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, though the light tremble in it remains. “It does.”

Another silent moment passes, a few seconds in which his gaze doesn’t waver. I glance around the bakery, praying for Ollie to come through or new customers to come in. Any diversion would be appreciated.

Anything to distract him lest he should see the butterfly storm inside.

“C- Can you stop staring at me?”

“I’m sorry. Ain’t proper, innit?” Alfie stands up straight and puts his hands in his pockets. Watching the street through the window stocked full with today’s bread, he rubs his lips together in contemplation. A thought he voices on a deep breath. “You look lovely, my dear.”

It’s just a pet name. Casual, the way he talks. It’s not affection towards me. It’s not. 

“Oh, t- thank you.” I pluck at the hem of my dress. “I finally had the courage to wear this one. Still feels a bit weird.”

“Well, I think you look wonderful. Much too pretty for Camden, though. But more than right for Bloomsbury or Westminster.” Though there’s genuine warmth in the gruff half-grumbled words and tenderness in his eyes, there’s an underlying bleakness.

And it tells me he knows.

“I- I’m gonna- I-’’ I point at the door over my shoulder. “I should go.”

“Fancy a cup of tea?” Alfie lunges forward and places his palms on the counter like he’s ready to launch himself over it. “‘Ow about we ‘ave one of those cookies too?”

“I don’t-’’

“Just one.” A careful though encouraging smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Evidently he’s not planning to let me leave, determined to use his charm to make me stay yet too proud to openly beg. “It’s good to treat yourself. One cookie won’t do any ‘arm, especially not with tea. Do an old man a favour?”

And like every time he prepares a sandwich for me and refuses to let me cross the threshold back onto the street without a loaf of soda bread, I want to try. Not only for myself.

But also for him.

“Sure.”

He claps, the noise loud enough to involuntarily turn my content resignation to temporary shock. Fortunately, the way my body jolts remains unnoticed. “Marvellous. Any preferences?”

“Not really.”

“Hm, maybe a nice pot of yuja, yeah? The sweetness will be in perfect ‘armony with the orange in the biscuits. Besides, it’s almost summer, so it’s time for citrus fruits, innit?”

“We’re barely halfway through spring. It’s not even May yet.”

“The weather’s warmin’ up, though.”

“I still don’t think that makes it summer any time soon,” I chuckle.

“I suppose it doesn’t.” Alfie lets out a breathless laugh, features softened with the kindness he usually displays around me. Nevertheless, there’s also an odd tender warmth in it that is hard to define. It’s the same curious emotion I sometimes glimpse on his face when I drop by to study or when he’s using his own bookkeeping to serve as a real-life example. When I make a mistake and he corrects it, explaining what I did wrong and how to do it right next time.

It’s there in the corner of my eye, vague in peripheral vision. However, now that I see it blatantly before me, I still can’t name it.

“You wait ‘ere, yeah. Give me a moment to prepare everythin’ and we’ll pick a nice and quiet spot.”

While the tea brews, Alfie sets up a tray. With a gentle carefulness that belies his usual rough demeanour, he places the biscuit tin alongside two dainty plates on it. In the meanwhile, I remain by the counter to soak up the sunlight, ever rare here in London, coming in through the windows. Normally I’d feel awkward simply standing around in a place where I could easily be noticed. Yet, it’s never like that when he’s nearby.

Strange, how he is both my peace and my flame. 

Humming along to one of Adele’s songs, Alfie pours the yellow liquid in a chic porcelain teapot. ‘‘There,’’ he mumbles, a proud note in his gravelly voice. ‘‘Done. Come on.’’

He guides us to a small table in a corner in the back, far removed from the other customers and staff. All the while, he stays close yet maintains a polite distance.

Alfie sits down on the chair across from me after setting the table and pouring us both a cup. Neither of us says anything, both content to only sip tea and occasionally meet the other’s gaze. 

Whereas his employees seem to have the urge to talk as soon as their boss falls silent, it’s never been the case for me nor vice versa. It’s the same type of silence as when he reminds me to take a break. The most effective way to actually get me to take one, he found, is to literally swipe my study materials to the side or pull me away from his laptop if he’s giving real-life examples. Afterwards, he’ll pull me to my feet to this very same spot so we can sit down together for a cup of tea or coffee. 

A moment of reprieve, wherein there are no burdens. No pressure to do well, no fear to mess up, no worries about changes.

There’s only us, the world shut out.

Unfortunately, the comfortable silence doesn’t last long. The corners of his mouth turn downwards and his brows knit together as words enter his mind. The way he puts his cup down on the saucer with a clink that’s a little too loud preludes to conversation.

One I’d rather not have. 

However, there’s only so long I can and perhaps want to avoid it.

And when it comes to him, I’m done running.

I want to talk.

Alfie groans, the metallic sound of his rings tapping against the side of the cup strengthening his sense of discomfort. “I know it ain’t right to ask because it’s impolite and not something a gentleman should ask, yeah. You are permitted, by the way, to storm out the door after throwin’ your tea in my face. It’d be a waste but I wouldn’t blame ya. I’d never come back either if someone asked me this.”

Head bowed, I stir my tea. “Alfie?”

“Yes, love?”

“The question.”

“Yeah… right, guess I’m beatin’ ‘round the bush too much, ain’t I?” He presses his lips together for a moment and runs a hand through his beard, lost in contemplation. The long breath he takes comes out as a deep sigh. “Look, I meant it when I said I think you look wonderful. And I’m very bloody grateful you come ‘ere for lunch or afternoon tea. It’s a fuckin’ honour to see you enjoy the food and drink ‘ere.”

“But?”

“But you’ve lost weight again, ‘aven’t ya?” he asks, his usual warm drawl devoid of emotion.

I shake my head and smile wistfully. Looks like I’m found out. “I don’t even actively try to anymore. It just… happens.”

“Do you eat? When you’re not ‘ere, I mean.”

“Three meals a day. A protein bar for brekkie or a bowl of vegan yogurt with some granola. I come here for lunch or eat a slice of your soda bread with a piece of fruit when I’m busy. Dinner kinda depends on what I’m in the mood for, but it’s generally vegetarian and has lots of veggies.”

“And working out?”

“Almost every day. I can’t sit still. It drives me up the bloody wall. I try to take rest days, but I’m not particularly good at that.”

“‘Ow much?”

I take a sip from my tea. “Too light.”

No workout today, no need. Tea won’t make you fat. Sure, it’s sweet, but not from sugar. It’s okay.

He lets out deep sigh through his nose, mumbles something under his breath, and stares out into the bakery. In the meanwhile, I don’t dare to look up at him.

Terrified of his disappointment in me.

“Look, I’m not goin’ to be the solution to the problem, it’s a journey you yourself will ‘ave to go on. All the same, I wanna ‘elp.” Slowly I raise my head, unsure about his intentions. Alfie sits back with his arms crossed. The only movement he makes is squeezing his bicep with strained forearms. “You’re a strong wonderful woman, clever to boot. I’d ‘ate it if I lost your company due to bad health. Or worse.”

“My health is fine. I guess I’m just too skinny.”

“Which means you’re more prone to sickness. And cold.” His gaze falls on the goosebumps littering my skin. “Can I ask the number on the scale?”

“Forty-six, sometimes forty-five.’’ 

‘‘Please tell me you eat a little more on those days.’’

‘‘I do, try to, but it hardly helps. Still came further down from forty-eight.”

He swallows hard, a slight taper in his breath as he speaks. “I won’t tell you what to do. What you can and can’t eat. You are your own woman and therefore free to tell me to fuck off and mind my own bloody business. Which I should, I’m well aware, love, yet I can’t. We ‘aven’t known each other that long, but I’m quite fond of you. Yeah, you ‘eard me. Fond, extremely. So I worry for you and since I’m also a chronic overthinker, I worry a lot.”

Sure you do.

Because if the King of Camden is known for something, it’s his silver tongue. 

“We can start small. You already said you eat my bread at ‘ome and I see you eat when you’re ‘ere. That’s good. Let’s start from there. We’ll go explore new foods together and I’ll occasionally cook for you. I’m no master chef, right, but I don’t think my borscht is bad. It’s me mum’s recipe, so I don’t dare fuck it up. I always make way too much brisket as well and it would be a cryin’ shame to throw it away or keep it as leftovers when it can be shared. You see, people have been bonding over food for centuries.” He leans in, his fingers entwined as they rest on the table. Voice lowered to a pleasant purr, he makes an irresistible proposal which I am loath to decline. Nonetheless, I don’t want to readily accept it with an enthusiasm and positivity I haven’t felt in a very long time. The butterflies have to remain contained because to show them would be to rip their wings. “Shall we try and see if that’s true?”

“I’d like that, Alfie.” The mention of his name conjures a beaming smile which shows off his slightly crooked teeth. One of his little perfect imperfections. “I’d like it a lot.”

“Well, let’s start with this.” He grabs a cookie from the tin, splits it in half, and holds one of the pieces out to me. “Small steps.”

I merely gaze at the cookie, my mind and body entangled in a war of control. One side wants to reach out to accept the piece of food, the other advocates to wait for Alfie to retract his hand. In the end, I clench my jaw and fight my very nature to take it.

He leans back, the beginning of an affectionate smile lingering like a ghost on his lips. After a moment of watching me nibble on the cookie and take a sip of tea, he speaks up. “Still trying to get into Shelby’s company?”

I shake my head. “I don’t feel confident enough for that. I’m not really too good with the books, am I? Maybe in the far future. When I’m better.”

“I don’t think you’re doing too shabby. In fact, I think you’re doing pretty well. Simply need to practice, is all.”

It’s basically immediately reaching for the top, the stars far out of reach and only for the gods to touch. As if a prestigious company like Shelby Company Limited would accept a rookie bookkeeper, a nobody without experience. That is, if I manage to pass the exam.

Alfie puts his half of the cookie in his mouth. An appreciative hum rises from his throat as he munches on it. A wave of calm gratification washes away the guilt of eating, replaces it with a flush of warmth throughout my body. I take a deep breath, once again able to breathe a little easier around him.

He wipes his mouth on a napkin, which he then uses to wipe some of the crumbs from his beard. “How about you become my bookie?”

“Pardon?” I squint at him like it might help me understand him better. Either that, or prove I misheard him.

“Would take some of the burden off me shoulders. Let me focus on other things to keep this place open for business.’’ The silliness of his grin amplifies the glow in his cheeks. However, there’s anxious anticipation in the way he twists his rings. “‘Sides, you’re the only one I trust with my finances.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll fuck up?”

“You’re a clever little bird so I don’t think you will. You will pass that exam, after all. I’m certain of it. But, if it makes you comfortable, we can figure it out together in the first few weeks. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, innit?”

Not because of second opinions, controlling perfectionism, nor business.

But because we sometimes need help.

And that’s okay.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Thirteen (Part 2)

“You’re here.”

He stares at me with a completely unreadable expression. I’ve never seen that look on his face before. “Yes.” He says flatly. “I landed an hour ago.”

“Jen’s out of surgery.”

“And?”

“Well I don’t know, Michelle is with her. Where are her parents?”

“They’re probably sitting at home watching TV, I don’t know. Why?”

I blink. He’s like a wire pulled so tight he could snap at any second. “I was just wondering.”

“They’re not in contact, Evie.” Shane explains gently as he tugs me down into the seat beside him. “She’s not talked to them for years.”

“Oh right.”

Jude sinks into the seat opposite. “They don’t approve of her, so she’s lived with Michelle since she was fifteen. The Tengus are her family.”

Meanwhile, Colette is marching around looking for answers from the nurses, who are telling her all of the same things that they already told us. Jen is recovering now, only one person at a time to visit her, they can’t tell her any more information. It’s a chorus of I’m sorry we can’t share that information with you, and that’s reserved for family only. 

“Tell me what happened.” Jude says, eyes flitting from me to Shane to Simon. Simon speaks first. 

“Well, it’s not all completely clear yet. We were hoping she could tell us herself once she came around, but she was with Pamela before it happened. Something must have happened there, another of their arguments, maybe, but Jen left in her car really early on Tuesday morning. She was drunk, and probably pretty high too. The car hit a telephone pole and the door caved in against her. She’s broken bones all along her right side and a pretty bad concussion. The seatbelt was a bit twisted up too, so the side of it did some damage to her chest and neck.”

Jude’s head is in his hands. “Jesus, she’s so lucky she wasn’t killed.”

“Yeah man, I know.”

“Where’s Pamela?”

“Don’t know, she hasn’t come in yet. We’re expecting her to appear at some point, surprised she hasn’t shown up already.” 

“Has someone phoned her?”

“Nah. You hardly want to try that again, do you? Went so well the last time.”

Jude grunts, and his eyes squeeze shut as he pokes his fingers into his forehead like he’s fighting the world’s biggest migraine. “Fucking hell” He just says to himself. “I didn’t know it was still so bad, I thought that it was better between them now.” 

Simon says nothing, but his eyes flash quickly, guiltily, to mine. 

“They fight a lot?” I wonder, even though I kind of already know the answer. 

“Yes.” Jude replies. “At least they used to, I didn’t know about anything recently. There is something wrong with Pamela. She’s a deeply messed up individual. I just can’t believe it’s ended up here.”

“I know.” I say, and he squeezes his eyes shut again and hangs his head low, and I feel like I should comfort him, rub his back or hold his head to my chest but I can’t, because how things are left between us, how everything feels wrong, thanks to me, and my propensity to ruin things, so we all sit in silence, and we wait. 

Colette leaves eventually, tired of poking for information and receiving nothing of value, and she tells Jude that she can pick him up whenever he wants to come home, and he tells her he’s likely be a while and can get a taxi if he needs to. She gives him money. 

When Michelle emerges from the ward, jittery and watery eyed we four climb to our feet, and she walks straight into Simon’s arms and cries. 

“She was so vulnerable.” She says. “So broken. It was so hard to see it.”

“Is she lucid?” He says into her hair. 

“Yeah, a bit, but she was so tired. The last forty minutes she just slept and I kind of just sat there beside her.” She sniffles and wipes her nose, and then sees Jude next to them and tries to gather herself quickly. “Oh, you came.”

“I did.” 

She steps away from her boyfriend to give Jude a hug, and she fits in nicely under his chin while they hold each other like people who spent a year together doing just that. “This is awful.” she murmurs. 

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t know.” He holds her at arms length. “Was she drunk behind the wheel?”

  “Yes, but-” She gives him a meaningful look. “She was more than drunk.”

He says with resignation, “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

“You can go in and visit her if you want to, but she’ll probably just sleep for the next few hours. The surgeries took a lot out of her, I think, and she’s all bandaged up on one side, and bruised and stitched…”

“Might be better to give her some time to rest.” He concludes, and the way he speaks to her is so gentle, as though still carrying some of that old affection he had for her once upon a time. And even as she snuggles back under Simon’s arm, and what they had once is long gone now, she’s soft, familiar.

Jude rakes a hand through the front of his hair. “I just don’t understand where this came from, I thought that things with Pamela were fine.” 

Michelle shrugs.

“I haven’t heard anything about them. When you called me in November you said that everything was fine, I just… this is so out of the blue.”

She’s chewing on her thumbnail as he speaks, and Simon’s hand tightens on her shoulder as she blurts out “She asked me not to tell you things.” 

He stiffens. 

“She said that she was worried that you’d get upset, and that she was fine to deal with it on her own, and that she really didn’t want you to know.”

My eyes flit from him to her and back, and then I quickly scan the faces of Simon and Shane, two of the most uncomfortable men on planet earth. 

Jude clears his throat. “So you… um, you just went along with that? No issue?”

“She felt like you got too emotional.” Michelle rationalises “She was upset because of that time you phoned Pamela, and she felt like you went too far and was worried that you’d do it again. You knowing everything really wouldn’t have made a difference, there’s nothing that any of us could have done to stop this from happening.”

“Yeah but she’s my best friend too, she doesn’t have anybody but us, and I asked you to let me know what was happening with her.”

“I couldn’t go against what she asked, Jude.”

“She asked you to protect her so that she could stay with Pamela and continue being abused.”

Michelle hesitates. 

“And you agreed to.”

“There was nothing else I could have done. I was scared that she’d stop talking to me too, and then she’d have nobody left.”

“This is how it always is, Shell.” There is an edge of frustration in his voice now. “You’re too soft with her, you just go along with her and encourage everything she does.”

“And you’re too emotional!” She bites back. “You lash out and you’re destructive, and that’s why she doesn’t want to speak to you. You think that you can just fix everything by being direct and upfront and demanding answers, but actually, look at where that got you in this situation. You were too righteous about what Jen should do, and you called up Pamela to give out to her and in the process you lost your best friend. I’m doing what I can for her, I’m giving her support.”

“She might have died in that accident.”

“Even if you still talked to her you wouldn’t have been able to stop that from happening.”

“I could have tried.”

She steps out from under Simon’s arm. “Well, maybe, but you weren’t here. As usual.”

“As usual?”

“Yeah, you weren’t here for her at all for the last four years. I was. I was trying to keep her steady and on track the entire time while you were away in Berlin, running away from everything that’s hard, as usual. If you cared you’d have stayed.”

“That’s unfair.” He says breathlessly as though she’s kicked him in the guts. “That’s so unfair. You can’t use that against me.”

“I’m just holding up a mirror. You ran away from her, and, actually, all of your responsibilities. You’re a coward.” 

There’s dead silence after that, and my body prickles in the charged air, and I can tell that nobody wants to be the first to move a muscle.

“Nice to know that’s what you really think.” Jude says eventually. “Good to get it all out there in the open.”

Michelle steps forward like she’s ready to launch another attack on him but Simon holds her back by her shoulder and shakes his head. “I think that’s enough, lads. Actually, it’s a bit much already.” He looks at Jude. “Here, man, none of us saw this coming. Yeah, there were fights, but we didn’t think it’d go like this. I’m sure Michelle would have told you if she knew things were heading to this point, but really, the only really bad thing that happened was this time that Pamela left her in this house in Wicklow, and it ended up being fine, we came and got her. Evie drove us down and nothing had happened to Jen. It wasn’t a story worth telling.”

I feel like I might be sick as Jude turns the full force of his attention on me for the first time since he arrived. The look in his eyes makes me flinch. “You hid it from me too.” He says. 

My voice is humiliatingly high pitched. “She asked me not to tell you about it.”

I watch a dozen emotions cross his face, a slideshow of the complex things he feels about me at this moment. Hurt, anger, betrayal, resignation, this new sleight only serves to make everything worse. I never called him, I never cleared things up between us, I left him hanging in Berlin after he laid his feelings for me out at my feet, and now I’ve gone and done this. His eyes go so dead. “Yeah. Okay. That’s cool. No worries about that. I’ll be back in a while” He says, and he pushes out of the double doors and into the carpark. 

We stay for an hour or two more, before Shane starts getting restless and tired from being up all night and we decide to go. Jude has not come back, and I’m relieved not to have to face him again as we gather up our things and head for the doors, waving goodbye to Simon and Michelle who are parked back in the plastic seats once again, scrolling through their phones and picking forlornly at the leftovers from their canteen lunch. 

One half of the sky is dark blue and the other is grey, with enormous dark clouds rolling in from the west. The television in the corner of the waiting room warned about a storm all day, the tail end of a hurricane from America that threatens to wreak havoc over Ireland for the rest of the week. Shane unlocks his Fiat from a distance just as I spot Jude sitting on a bench by the steps. His back is facing us. I tell Shane to wait in the car and I approach him. 

I know that Jude is still mad at me by the shape of his shoulders. He doesn’t turn around to look at me, but just sits there quietly sucking on the butt end of a cigarette. I mentally prepare myself for the icy look on his face when he turns around to acknowledge me, but he doesn’t. He stubs the cigarette out on the metal arm of the bench and as I stand behind him, feeling like some kind of a ghost, I start to feel queasy again. 

“Hey I’m sorry.” I say, because it seems like the right place to start. “I’m sorry that I kept secrets from you about Jen. She asked me to, but I should have thought more about what was the best thing for her. I understand that you were worried about her and you care about her, and by me withholding information I really broke your trust. You have to know that I didn’t do it intentionally knowing that you’d be hurt by it, don’t you?”

There’s no response, so I edge closer hoping to catch sight of a sliver of expression, but all I see is his blank face, that scar on his eyebrow, the curve of his cheekbone. “I’m sorry that I just seem to be a bit shit lately, in general, and I’ve been thoughtless, but you should have told me what was really going on with Jen. I didn’t know anything about how consistently bad it’s been with Pamela, or that she didn’t have family to support her. I didn’t know that you and Michelle were the only ones who really looked out for her wellbeing. I would have understood why you might have wanted to know how she was doing if I had all of the information.”

I want to touch him, but there’s something electrically charged about him that gives me pause. He still doesn’t speak, and I swallow hard as I get to the worst part of what I wanted to say to him. “And also, not that this is the most important thing to you right at this moment, I’m sure, but I’m sorry that I left you hanging in Berlin. It was really cruel of me, and I know that it took a lot for you to say those things to me. You just caught me off guard, I didn’t know how to respond in the moment, and then as time went on it felt even harder to think of the right things to say. I have difficulties around relationships. I’m not like those girls who can just have normal and easy romances. It gets loud and messy in my head when I try to think about anything even close to being vulnerable with someone, and I feel so bad if I caused you suffering because of that.” 

I think I might cry. “Your friendship is really important to me. I don’t want to ruin it. I’m afraid to ruin it.” And I finally reach forward to touch his shoulder only for him to flinch with surprise, so I yank it away again and cradle it in my other hand as though it’s been bitten. “So… well, that’s all I have to say. I don’t want you to be mad at me. I hate it. I’m so sorry.” I’m not used to being iced out like this. Even with Kelly, who was a professional sulker, enough cajoling and “sorrys” with the correct amount of conviction could always get her to come around, but apparently not Jude. I can’t even get him to react. 

“Please speak to me.” I finally say, and I feel pathetic and needy. “Don’t ignore me, I can’t take it.”

He clears his throat. “You want to be friends?”

“Yes!”

“I wish you had just said that, then. That’s fine.” It doesn’t really sound fine, but his voice isn’t as cold as I had expected it to be either, so that’s a small victory.  “I don’t mean to upset you, I’m just overwhelmed by everything at the moment. It’s not really got much to do with you.”

“Oh.”

“Well, alright it has a bit to do with you.” He admits. “Seeing as I confidently ended a relationship to declare my feelings, only to be way off mark. It was embarrassing. But if you want to be friends, yeah, maybe I can do that. Just let me have time to think about it.” 

“Okay.” I still can’t really see his face, so I shuffle around to get a less obstructed view of his profile in time to see his expression crumple. “Is that really what you want? Just friendship?”

No. No no no never. I’ve never wanted just that, but I don’t say that, because I’m almost sure that if I tried to, the words wouldn’t even come out. “Maybe it’s easier that way?”

“Yeah, fine.” He says.

“Okay, so-”

He lets out a long, laboured sigh and shakes his head. “Sorry, I just don’t want to talk about this right now, honestly. I have other things on my mind, like how my best friend almost died in a car accident, for example. If you want to talk about us being friends or whatever, let’s talk at the weekend.” 

I burn hot with the humiliation of this conversation. Of myself, of my neediness for his approval. Of course I’ve done this, of course I’ve taken a difficult moment and made it all about me. I reach for him once again, and to my surprise he puts his hand on top of mine as soon as it rests on his shoulder. He squeezes my fingers. “Don’t feel bad.” He says. “You can’t help what you feel.”

I feel my lip start to tremble. “Jen is going to be fine. You’re so good to have come to see her.” 

“Of course I did.” he says. “She’s my best friend.” 

“Can you let me know how she is when you get into her ward?” 

“I will.” 

“See you, Jude.”

“Yeah. See you.” 

I cross the carpark and climb into Shane’s car, and he gives me a consolatory pat on the shoulder with his big, warm hand. As we pull away and under the barrier we look up at the sky to the dark, angry clouds still rolling in. 

“Big storm, they’re saying.” He comments. 

“Yeah. Won’t be long now.” Fat raindrops start to fall onto the windscreen at that very moment, and we head south towards home. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[puffpasstea]

A/N: I can’t sleep so here’s part 1 of 2 of this request. Please let me know what you think! This is the first one shot I’m writing in, like, a month and a half. So I’m a bit rusty. Feedback would be very much appreciated. warnings: smalllllll mention of smut kinda. ———

I sat in bed with my legs crossed watching as Harry went around the room, packing up his gym and work bags, getting ready for his day. I had the day off, thankfully, but I’d woken up feeling sad and vulnerable for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words. I wished he’d notice, wished he weren’t leaving, wished he’d give me a hug and tell me everything would be okay anyway. 

He walked over to the nightstand grabbing  his wallet and keys, stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans. “Alright,” he mumbled, “think that’s all.” He glanced down at his hands to make sure  that all his rings were on. “I’m off, then. Unless you need anything before I go?” 

His question made a weak smile appear on my face. He’d developed a habit of asking me that same question any time that he left the house. Usually, if I wanted him to pick up dinner, or if I’d planned on being gone for the day, or needed to remind him of something, that’s when I’d chime in, but none of those things were happening today. What I needed today was different. I just needed him. I wasn’t gonna be needy though. I’d never ask him to drop everything and spend the day with me. Especially not when I didn’t necessarily know why I was feeling so low. 

I simply shook my head. “All good.”

“Alright then.” He gave me a quick kiss on my lips, his skin brushing against mine as he dashed away. “See ya tonight! Love you.” He disappeared out the door. 

——

“Here you go” I handed Harry a mug of tea, setting mine down on the coffee table and picking up the book I was reading. 

“Thanks babe,” Harry looked away from his laptop for a moment, flashing me a quick smile and accepting the warm beverage.

I stood there for a moment, admiring how beautiful and warm he looked. 

“You good?” His eyebrow shot up as he studied my face. I must have stared a little too long.

I scooted closer to him on the couch, pausing for a moment, wanting to get lay my head on his chest, but not quite knowing if he was in the mood, or if he’d prefer to be left alone with whatever work he was doing on his device. 

“Everythin’ alright?” He repeated. “Why are you looking at me like that….somethin’ on my shirt?” 

“No, no. It’s…nothing.” I decided I didn’t feel brave enough to attempt anything right now, so I redirected my attention to my book, doing my best to ignore the disappointment and embarrassment I was feeling. 

Seconds later, Harry reached out his arm, wrapping it around my waist and pulling me into his side. He adjusted the laptop on his knees so he could still see the screen while resting his head on mine. He could tell. I felt a little silly, but mostly grateful, that he could read me so well. I looked up at him through my lashes, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. He blushed faintly, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. I delighted in the sweet sound of his voice. 

—

Harry pulled away from this kiss, leaving me breathless and whiny. I’d waited all day for his touch. Within moments of him walking through the door, I was a mess. 

“On the bed.” He commanded. “Face down, ass up, c’mon.”

I knew what this meant. He wanted to go quick. He was in the mood to be rough. Which, ordinarily, would be my preference. Especially when he’d been gone a while, or whenever I knew that he’d had a long, difficult day. The submissive in me always relished the opportunity to be of use to him. To provide him with some stress relief or be of service. Plus, it was much easier for me to be turned on by quick and rough sex. Not tonight though. Tonight, I was craving his touch. I wanted him to go slow, really take his time. I’d spent the day daydreaming about his fingers tracing patterns over my skin, his soft lips slightly wet and puffy from biting on them, the scent of his cologne, the way he throws his head back in pleasure when he cums. I wanted him to hold my hand as he thrusted into me. I wanted to see the look in his eyes when it happened. 

Hey, what’s the matter?” His face softened when it took me a minute to follow his orders. 

“Hmm?”

“You seem….uncomfortable, everything alright?” I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Yes I was uncomfortable but yes everything was alright. 

“Yeah- uh, I’m okay.” I shuffled to my feet to get on the bed and do as he said. 

“Hold on,” his hand on my waist stopped me. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Cuz, we can stop if you want to.” His smile soft despite the fact that he was clearly nervous. 

I- uh, no. We don’t have to stop, I could just-“

“We’re stopping.” He stated. 

“But, Harry-“

“What you’re color?”

“Har-“

“Color, Matilda!”

“Yelow?”

“You actually mean red. I can see it in your eyes. We’re stopping.”

“No- we could just take a break-“

“Hey, listen, if you’re not into it, I’m not into it. End of discussion.” He stood up, looking around the room for his discarded shirt. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m just-“

“Hey, Alice,listen to me,” he paused, walking over to my side of the room and towering over me, his gaze intensely fixing me in place. “never apologize for not wanting sex. You hear me? Never.”

Speechless, I simply nodded. 

His face softened; he closed the space between us, holding my face in his hands and kissing me slow. “We can just do something else, if y’want.”

“Y-yeah. I’d like that.”

Despite his assurance, I felt guilt bubble in my chest. 

———

“Matilda?”

“Hmm?” 

“I wanna talk to you about something.” Harry announced, watching my reaction carefully in the bathroom mirror. “But, uh, please don’t take this the wrong way…” he looked down at the array of skin products on his side of the bathroom counter, and selected a few. 

 “Harry, you’re scaring me.” I put down my toothbrush and awaited his next words. 

“It’s nothing scary! I’ve just noticed- how do I put this delicately? Uhh, well, babe, you never really speak up about stuff.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like you never tell me what you need.”

“You sound just like my therapist.” I rolled my eyes, attempting to deflect with a laugh that u was trying way too hard to make sound playful.

Harry, on the other hand, didn’t crack a smile. 

“‘S somethin’ I’ve noticed.”

“Wha-what’s your point, Harry?” I looked down at the floor, mindlessly fiddling with the bracelet on my wrist in a nervous motion. 

“When you’re sick, or in pain, you don’t say anything. Just suffer in silence. Until I put two and two together and ask you about it. In an argument, you shut me out when you’re upset. You’d rather storm out of the house than talk about it….if  you wanna cuddle, or something, you never ask.”

I felt embarrassed and betrayed. Like he had given away a personal secret of mine. Like I was on some sort of trial and he was reading off the list of my offenses. “And- what? You’re saying that bothers you?”

“I’m just trying to understand why…”

I shrugged, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. 

“Do I not let you speak?” He offered a suggested explanation. His suggestion made my heart break inside my chest.

“What?! N-no! You do. Of course you do!”

The urgency in my voice seemed to reassure him. He sighed. “Cuz…I never want you to feel like I won’t listen.”

“It’s not that, Harry. I promise. It’s just…” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I wasn’t sure I had a reason. 

Harry reached out his arms, extending a hand for me to take and pulled me over to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me so our bodies were glued together. He rested his forehead on mine for a moment, before kissing me. “Talk to me, baby.”

“It’s not that you don’t give me the space to talk, it’s that I don’t know how to use it whenever you do.” My voice was thin and shaky, I laid my head against his chest as he leaned against the bathroom sink.

Harry was quiet for a long moment, simply taking in my confession. 

“You’ve never done this before, have you? The serious relationship thing.”  he announced, as if making a discovery. 

I shook my head, once again feeling embarrassed and small against his overwhelming openness. Even though I didn’t have the exact words or the courage to say it out loud, the truth was, no one had ever bothered to ask me what I needed before. It simply never occurred to me that it’s something he’d actually want to know. Nor did I know how to express it.

“But, baby I worry about you.” He admitted. “I worry that if I miss something, you just won’t tell me, and you’ll keep it inside and let it hurt you. Don’t want you to feel alone. Not when I’m right here.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that my reticence had been causing him to worry. It’s like my not wanting to be a burden was itself a burden. 

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled. 

He walked us over to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and gesturing for me to join him. 

“I want to help. How can I help? Somethin’ I can do to make you more comfortable? Doesn’t have to be talkin.’ We could….come with with some sort of system. Like cards maybe? Or, like send me texts if that’s easier than saying things out loud? Or we could-“

“Slow down, Harry. Please!” I could tell that this was important to him, and that he was making a genuine effort to be supportive with what limited information I was willing to give up. The least I could do is meet him halfway. So, with a shaking, broken voice, I mustered all the courage I had. “D-do you…do you remember, the other day, when- umm…when we were gonna have sex? You know, after you came home from work, and- uhh. You know. But then we stopped? C-cuz I wasn’t feeling it?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, his eyebrows knitted together, his lips tight. 

“I- umm- I actually did want to have sex. I, just— I just kind of wanted us to go slow and s-sof-t instead. I, I know- I know I don’t usually want that sort of thing. And, I- guess I was scared you’d say no.” I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes, cutting my voice off. I shrugged. “I don’t know that what I’m saying helps anything, but…”

“N-no, it helps! Really. Thank- thanks for telling me.”  It was obvious Harry didn’t know what to make of what I’d said, but he was determined to keep encouraging me. I felt touched by his earnestness. 

After a moment of thinking, he spoke again. “So… what I’m hearing is that you’re scared of how I might respond if you do speak up. Is that correct?”

I nodded but soon realized how bad that sounded. “It’s not that you’ve ever given me reason to  be scared. Cuz you haven’t. Ever! Really! I need you to believe that, okay? Please!”

“Hey, it’s okay. I believe you.” He placed an arm over my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m not taking this personally, I promise.” He kissed my cheek chastely. 

“Thank you for not taking it personally.” Tears began to pool in my eyes, I pretending not to notice them spilling over my waterline. 

“How about this? I’ll make more of an explicit effort to be reassuring.” Harry spoke, courteously looking away as I wiped my tears and saving me the indignity of crying as he watched. “I’ll remind you more often that you don’t have to worry about my reaction to your needs. I promise to always respect how you feel.”

“Harry, I don’t know what to say. You’re ama-“

“Oh, but I’m not done! You have to do something too.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to try to speak up too. If you’re scared, just tell me you’re scared and we can take it from there. Okay? Promise me you’ll try?”

“Promise.”

“Good. We’ll give it a shot for a bit, and see how things go?”

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Can I have some Jack-o relationship headcanons please?

Of course. For some reason, this was hard to write, hope you enjoy it!

-She is a bit inexperienced with the feelings. But, she does recognize what they mean, even from her fragmented memory. But, she doesn’t act right away. She wants to see if these feelings change over time.

-When they didn’t change, only got stronger overtime, she decided to approach you with the intent to ask you out. Only to blurt it out, like it was nothing, while you were eating your dinner.

“You know, you’re cute right? Would you like to go out with me?”

-The food got stuck on your throat, only for her to start slapping your back in hopes of getting the food out. Once that was resolved you happily agreed to the date invitation.

-She likes to go to malls, and then spontaneously decide what to do there. You might hit the arcade that day, maybe you’ll see a new horror movie, perhaps you’ll go clothes shopping. You’ll never know what she wants to do, but that is part of her charm. Always trying out new things with her.

-She loves to try out new things. Parachute jumping? She will try it. Clay sculpting? She’s on it! Eating a dozen habaneros at once? She might regret it, but she tried it at least.

“Why would you even try that?”

“I wanted to try it! (Y/N), my mouth is burning!”

“Drink some milk!”

-She likes to sing, especially to you. Karaoke dates are often how you two spend your Friday evenings. Taking turns singing and singing in duos. She may not have the best singing voice, but you assure her each time that she sounds great.  Her troopers agree with you.

-Speaking of them, they are slightly protective of her. But, when they realize how much joy you bring to Jack-O, they will get excited every time you are nearby. Some of them will bring small drawings of you and Jack-O for you to look at. It does make you blush, when you realize the little troopers are low key shipping you two.

-Jack-O likes to go clothes shopping with you. Even if you can’t give her decisive feedback on what looks good on her and why.

“It just looks good on you, Jack-O.”

“But, I want to know why it looks good..”

“The color fits you?”

-Even more she likes to go cake testing with you. Just tasting various cakes with you is just one of her favorite pastimes. She will absolutely love it, if you buy her a cake as a surprise.

-You started to carry some sweets with you just to keep her going. Her daily supplement of sweets is usually provided by you. She doesn’t even bother bringing her own sweets, as you usually have them with you.

-Whenever her personality changes, you like to mess with her more childish side. By saying dirty jokes and such. She gets bashful about them, but when she changes back, she will tease you back with some of her own. 

-You have tried on her mask, only to scare her. She thought the mask had come to life, when you appeared from behind a corner. You never let her live it down, as you find it endlessly funny, as she got scared by her own mask. 

-She doesn’t understand memes or internet slang. You have to explain to her whatever meme/slang she comes across. 

“What does “Yeet” mean?”

“Oh, pretty much you just throw something and yell out that.” 

“I see. Yeet!” She tosses the nearest pen at you. It lands on your back, and falls on the ground.

“Like that?”

“Heh, yup. Just like that.”