#please tell me someone will still be interested in reading it later this week

[sacredsorceress]

MEANT TO FINISH MY LOGAN FIC BEFORE DP&W CAME OUT ON DISNEY+ but I’m TOO LATE

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 1;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Mating Bites, Knotting, Heat Sex, Breeding Kink, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Basically puppy training for unsocialized Alphas, And by God that man will be house trained by the time she’s done with him!, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Author returns not with a whimper but with a KNOT, I wrote this in a very unserious state of mind beware��

A/N: Gray November, I've been down since July - but we're so back, baby. I’ve missed this so bad. I’ve missed you all, I won’t drone on and on. I hope you enjoy, and please talk to me in the comments. Update me on what I’ve missed, let me know how you’ve been and what’s happening in your life.

A great heartfelt thank you to all of my wonderful friends who so supportively cheered me on while I struggled to write this. Sincerely the best people I know. 

Love you all madly.

Word Count: 6.5K

Read on AO3

Part 1;

The old linoleum tiles are the most peculiar shade of puce, and Joel has realized that there is someone sitting at the back of the room who smells… strange. 

More brown than purple—an ugly color. There’s something about it that fascinates him.

The woman that is currently speaking tells of her husband; it’s the only tale she has to tell. She’s been doing it for weeks, and they all know it well by now. Older, omega, the woman, and at the latter and less comely stage of life. Most of them here can say the same. They usually give their names, those that get up to share—although it’s never a requirement when you attend, it is highly encouraged—the sharing, he means—but he never pays much mind to them—the names, that is. That’s not what he’s here for after all—to make friends. Although, he does see how that’d be the initial assumption. 

Joel Miller is here for something more specific.

Six weeks he’s been showing up to these things now, and he’s yet to take a turn. He tells himself he’s working up to it. 

What that specific thing is…he hasn’t quite figured out. He’s listening for it, though, and intently, even if he does skip over the names. It’s the details of what they’re telling that matter to him. The hows and intricate whys of what it is that brought them here today.  

Her youth had been spent on a drunk, the woman is saying—her husband—and he’d been cruel to her in those days when there was still currency to spend in the form of her vitality. Joel nods at the puce—yes, he thinks, that’s usually the way of it. But later, there’s more to the story she reminds her audience, he drank himself into a fit, and had never been right since. The cruelty had been taken away from the marriage after that, and she’d been put in charge. 

“But I wonder,” she says, ���If sometimes I don’t miss it, the way he’d been,” —if the reason she was here now, with all of the rest of them that were just like her in their own unique ways, was that she’d been left lonely after her cruel husband had been exchanged for a sick one. 

Joel nods again and wonders what sort of face the woman wears as she confesses but doesn’t bother to check. No matter, he knows they’re the same. If not in designation, then in heart. 

It’s easy, that thing, he does it too, to wish for the bad. To want to hold on to it, the thing that hurts. Addictive, even, in some cases. Missing it is easy. 

It’s why he’s here. 

And it’s what they promise you. In their flyers and pamphlets, when they stand on the corners of streets talking people up wearing that look in their eye and that slouch in their step, when they smell it on you—or in the lack there of—a mate or a purpose.

Welcome to our meeting. We’re here to find the cure for loneliness. 

That’s what they promise you when you come here. 

It’d been that word: loneliness, actually, that had caught him. L-O-N-E-liness. There was something attractive about it to him. Not a label but a state. 

You see, it was like this: Joel had seen a therapist once, several years ago, against his will and at the behest of another, who’d said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. 

“You sound depressed, Joel,” the therapist had told him. 

He’d worn horn rimmed glasses and had a shiny bald head he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in. And worse—the non-scent of a beta which told him they’d never understand each other in the ways Joel longed to be understood. He’d—not hated him, necessarily—but felt an immense apathy for the man; more so than the regular apathy he felt for most things in his life. 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Very, very sad,” was the official diagnosis.

Joel hadn’t liked the sound of the word. The label. He did not like that a word so succinct could be ascribed to him and all that had happened to him in his life. There was no word for it. It just was. 

But there was something different about a state of aloneness, which if attributed to himself, he could accept. He had been left alone, in ways. It was a tangible thing he could look around a room inside of himself and recognize. 

They’re meetings, is what this place is—encounter groups this coalition offers where lonely demi humans can come to congregate, discuss their aloneness, what had led them to such a state; their lack of attachments, connections, mates—alpha, omega. Held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church on Newbury street, right between his shop and house, although they never talk about religion which he likes because he doesn’t believe in religion. 

God is still under review. 

He wonders if the Catholics wouldn’t have them. 

Sitting forward in his seat, the metal folding chair that always leaves his back aching something fierce, he presses his elbows into his knees to distract with alternative pressure. Focusing on his fingers woven together between his spread legs, he tries to pay attention to the man who’s stood up to speak now. Older than himself, late sixties, no children, no family, no nothin’; he’d run them all off. 

But Joel is distracted. 

The smell is stronger now. Stranger too. Something full bodied, but metallic like rust, astringent bleach, built in a way that forces saliva to pool heavy between his suddenly aching gums. A mask that sits atop something of a much different chemical architecture—that’s the strange part. 

Or—no. The back of his neck itches, and Joel lifts a palm to cup his nape, quell the sting, feel the tender mark. No. The strange part is not the illusion of the smell. What it is, actually, is that he’s fairly certain what he’s smelling is someone else's blockers. Something which he’s positive he’s never consciously noticed on another person in the thirty plus years since he’d presented as an alpha. 

He has, suddenly, the quite intense urge to peek over his shoulder, certain that he’ll be caught smelling things he has no business smelling. That there will be someone just there, breathing down the nape of his neck with accusation on their tongue—boo!

Silly. But he’d known today would not be a good day. 

It’d started off wrong. The milk had gone sour overnight, the check engine light had come on in his truck, all his socks were suddenly mismatched with not a single pair to be found, and his usual route to work had been waylaid by some freak accident. A tree split in half, one side into a house, the other into the road. Not a sign of lightning in the sky all night long. 

Perhaps he might be compelled to believe in God after all. 

Joel does not like it when things are out of order or out of the ordinary. His life was organized in a way that never caused him strife or excess. And it was not that he was stuck in his ways, only that he enjoyed his routine and disliked when things were not as they should be. And this—whatever it is he’s smelling, whoever—is not as it should be. 

The older gentleman, an Alpha too, is still speaking. He had a daughter, has, who no longer speaks to him. Won’t even take his money. He’d had a long career in government that’d filled him with greed and paranoia and a radical view of life that refused to align with the way young people saw the world now. Perhaps he’d tried to change at certain times, but he was old and set in his ways. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to change as badly as he should have when he still had the chance to. Happily stuck in the past. His wife had died, and his daughter had gone away from him. Too tired of his mediocrity as a father to give him another chance. 

The man sounds like he feels sorry for himself. Like he thinks himself the victim, and this one, Joel does look up at. He looks old and worn down, heavy beer pouch and thinning hair and sagging jowls. A sad and lonely man. Joel wonders if that’s how he looks to the other people in this room, as well. 

“No man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.” Joel blinks, looks at him more closely, tries very hard to find similarities between themselves. But no—not quite right, not the thing he’s looking for. Their plight is different. This man is not alone, he’s got his weakness to keep him company. 

The one thing Joel had fought like hell to keep out of his repertoire of issues. He’d run from even the possibility of it as soon as she was dead, left Texas straight for the Northeast and from thereafter, everything he’d done, he’d done with a staunchness of character. If at the end of it, that staunchness was made up of apathy or numbness or dissociative fury, well, then at least he wasn’t still that man who’d been too weak to save his daughter. 

That counted very much in Joel’s book. 

An overabundance of cold numbness, little anger, everything a static haze—an abstinent winter. That was his whole life. But then, look at him now, he was here, wasn’t he? He’d taken that brochure handed to him on that last warm Tuesday weeks ago as he’d headed back to the shop from lunch. 

Hello, sir. Could I interest you in a cure for loneliness? The young omega had said. 

It’d started like anything—an experiment or a desperate ploy. The monotony had been steady going the past few years, getting older, colder. He’d grown hard and solitary around his wound, loneliness spread like a fungus, and he’d longed for any sort of change. 

“A cure…how?” The terrible shrink had come to mind.

“Oh, nothing to fret over.” The young man had a nice smile, Joel remembers. Kind and straight toothed. Honest in the way that a stranger knocking on your door to sell you a Bible seems honest. “We call it an encounter group. People come, share, tell the tales of their designation and their lives. In the end, the result is different for different people. Some move on to a second step if they need more. Others find what they’re looking for just through the connection of sharing. But no matter the result, you’ll see, you’ll be cured. Promise.” He’d winked, smile deepening, giving him an appreciative once over at the end of his spiel. Joel had blinked back, surprised, confused, but curiosity peaked enough he’d obsessed over it for three short days before he’d found himself stepping into the molted incense smell of the belly of a church so dimly lit he was sure not even God peaked in this sad space any longer.

“It’s that easy?” Joel had asked, childlike in his throat-strangled hope.

“That easy.”

It seemed the smile had been honest enough to sell him the Bible. 

The scent insists upon itself as the older gentleman finishes up, and Joel’s nose tickles with whatever it is it’s whispering at him. He wants to get up and walk out, run away, but suddenly his gut is tight and hot, and he isn’t sure he can actually stand up without disgracing himself in front of all these people. A wash of agonized heat moves through him, confused at what’s suddenly happening to his body. 

“We have a newcomer today sharing for the first time,” Maria, the woman who leads the group, says at the front of the room. “Everyone give her a warm welcome, it’s her first day and already she’s brave enough to jump on up here.”

There’s the shuffling of bodies in their seats, a cleared throat, the man sitting behind Joel breathes so loudly he thinks he’s gotta have some sort of medical condition, the puce turns more hideous by the second, and his own heart is beating so hard in his ears the rush of blood is dizzying. He feels each thump of the thing against his breast bone in some sick imitation of a fist begging to be let out. 

The new voice begins as nothing but a murmur. 

An introduction—he misses the name. His breathing goes shallow, he’d tip over in his seat if he didn’t have both boots planted firmly against the puce. The voice gains strength and with it, Joel wishes he’d been paying attention from the start. He didn’t get to hear her name. 

It’s a girl.

She’d run away from home in the spring of her sixteenth year to join the opera, she tells them. Had come upon the city in roaring spring and thought the rest of her life would be exactly like that, pure novelty in bloom, nothing like what she’d left behind. And was deeply disappointed when the reality was nothing such. 

And Joel hears it, that disappointment in her voice at what she’d not been able to find after searching for it so religiously. This is what makes him look up at her. This, unlike all the others, he thinks he can relate to—just by the sound of her voice. The search for a thing lost which can never again be found. The fruitlessness of it all. 

At that first vulnerable, terrified glance, she’s already staring at him, eyes catching like hooks. 

He blinks once, twice—color—is sure he can hear the movement of his eyelashes passing through the air, the stick of his lids meeting—color—bright. This is it.

That wash of heat turns into a blaze, every single bead of sweat blooming on his brow is a tell evaporating into the ether. This is what he’d sensed from the start of the evening. Maybe even from the moment he’d seen that split maple. 

“My mother always said I needed to be stronger, bolder, not so sensitive.” She looks away from him now. “I grew up in an angry house where you had to fight tooth and nail not to be overrun. Because of this, I left it at a very young age, and it was the greatest fight I could muster, abandoning that house of anger. I found myself something to bring me what I thought would be joy, a job and a city, and for a time, it was enough. But starting your lonely life so young…it’s hard.” After a pause of breath, “It’s been hard.”

“And it’s made me never want to have to—exert myself,” she says, searching for the right words, smiling when she finds them, and Joel has the urgency to smile back. “Now, I never want to have to be strong. I never want to have to try. I want to only be the way that I am. If that’s weak or sensitive or whatever it might be at any given moment, I don’t care. I don’t want to have to fight. I never want to be in an angry house again. I want someone who’ll see this in me and understand and never make me work for it, that they would give it to me willingly, easily, without me having to ask. Do you understand?” She looks about the room, and he hopes her eyes will land on him again, and even though they don’t, he feels she’s speaking directly to him. He nods, the hook of her temptation cast beneath his chin. “This is a fantasy. And it makes for a lonely existence. This idea of how I need it to be for it to be right—love.” She looks down at her hands folded atop the podium where they go to stand at the front of the group and share, and he wills her gaze to find him amidst the crowd again. “It’s so difficult. And this might seem very bad to you, weak willed, but it’s not. It’s only very honest. Which can never be a bad way to be.” That’s why she’s here, she tells them.

Finally, she looks back at him, and it’s that loneliness of two people amidst a crowd, facing one another, knowing themselves mirrored against the other and yet still disparate. There’s something indecent about the way she looks at him in front of all these people, the way he, in turn, looks back. A little bit like finding your own face on a stranger's body in a crowded room. Color rises to his face, and she gives him that same elusive smile from before. 

He’s the one to look away this time. 

As the crowd disperses for coffee and pastries after the last of the speakers, he searches for her. He needs to ask her name, feels as if he’s some blighted creature without it, swears he’ll never forgo attention during a meeting again if he can fish it out of her.

He finds her at the dessert table, Maria at her side and a hand at her shoulder. Something of a thank you is being imparted between the two women. The girl is saying she’s grateful for the welcome, grateful that they’d found each other. 

Joel has things to be grateful to Maria for, too. His brother, mainly. It’d been pure chance that Joel had met her here, that she knew Tommy also. She’d met his brother on a summer trek to Wyoming where they’d become friends and had kept in touch afterwards. The woman has a thing about her that ingratiates people by sheer force of will. Perhaps it’s that she’s an alpha, too. Perhaps it’s just the charisma and wide smile. The fact that she has a countenance that takes no shit from anyone, that makes demands of a person whether they’ve got any give or not. But whatever the case, they’d realize their connection through Tommy, and she kept Joel updated on his brother whom he’d not spoken with in many years. 

Watching the two women stand together and share that easy thanks that Joel so urgently owes, and yet which he cannot voice, he feels, suddenly, so angry. So awkward. So humiliatingly inexperienced. So unable to grapple with the pain of human contact, the fascination of it, the humiliating necessity. 

That decade old anchor weighing him in place and the guilt of even thinking of it as such. 

I feel decrepitly alone and odd, he thinks. And how strange, no? He was a normal man. He has a normal job. He lives in a normal house. Unexceptional in every sense. Everything in his life had been ordinary up until that one great tragedy. And then, as if none of the before had ever existed, it was as if everything afterwards was one great landslide of wrongness. The filth of it slinging mud all over his life so that nothing had ever been right after her. 

So that now he cannot even approach this girl whose name he needs to know, and Maria, to whom he owes the last surviving connection to his brother. 

As Maria turns to go, she gives him an encouraging nod, sending him into an agony of shyness. She’d sensed him hovering. 

The girl remains at the dessert table, perusing the pastries. He can see her fingertips dancing over the golden, sugared confections, before she settles on a plain, glazed donut. He watches the bend of her elbow, bringing it to her mouth and thirty seconds later, the empty hand reaching for a napkin. He can’t help the huff of laughter it draws from him. 

Watching the unknown creature with her back turned, he peers down the length of himself. Wood stain marred t-shirt, old work jeans and scuffed boots, he’d come straight from the shop. Looking back at her, she seems perfectly packaged and pristine. The two of them, different as chalk and cheese. He tells himself he shouldn’t do it, turn around and go, leave her alone, as he steps up beside her at the table. 

Immediately, there’s the heat of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and he realizes, and it’s silly because it should’ve been obvious from the get go, she’s an omega. The epiphany, not that she is one, but that he’d been too stupid and oblivious to notice, leaves him feeling vulnerable and angry. 

Any sort of hello that’d been coming alive on his tongue immediately dies. And he’s about to make a run for it once again when she speaks up from beside him, “Would you like a donut?” Her small fingers are dancing over the pastries, searching once again. “I haven’t had one yet,” she lies, “I can’t decide which looks best.” 

The dancing hand pauses over a golden brown puff pastry, seemingly coming to a decision, when she turns to look up at him. The scent of her isn’t just shampoo, not just the blockers he’d shockingly picked up on before, sharp, burning his nose. It’s her skin now, too. The dry sweat from hustling under her coat to make it to her first meeting on time salted along her limbs. Hot, sweet almonds. The shocking vermillion of the morning’s split maple comes to mind. He can smell her.

“A puff pastry?” She presses, quizzical crook to her brow at his silence and glower. “I think you really need something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”

He wants to agree, to say he also thinks he needs something sweet. All he can manage is a short grunt because she smells…indescribable. Honeyed musk, something heady, like she herself had just got done baking, straight out of the oven and full of sugar into his waiting mouth. 

That earlier anger, it kicks up a notch. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything? 

She shrugs, as she lifts the puff pastry to her mouth he finally manages sound. 

“You stink.”

He doesn’t know when he became such a liar.

A pause, mouth open, straight, white teeth ready to bite into the fluffy sweet bread. He can see her small, pink tongue, and it makes him go a little woozy.

He might be losing his mind. 

She’s got elegant eyebrows that shoot straight up her smooth forehead. The look of her skin is glorious. “Excuse me?”

Now, there seem to be too many words spilling out of his mouth. “You need better meds or somethin’. Need to sort your shit out. Can’t go gallivanting about the world smellin’ like that.” Oh god, shut up. 

“Excuse me!” She takes a huge bite of the pastry. “I do not gallivant,” she shoots back, mouth full of sugar and Joel goes hot everywhere. “What is wrong with you?” she demands, the pursing of a prim little mouth as she chews, eyeing him maliciously. 

He hasn’t the damndest clue. 

She is not wary of him in the slightest, which in turn tells him he needs to be wary of her.

Another large bite, inexplicably she extends her free hand towards him—potentially going into shock and entirely out of his depth when he takes it, the vulnerability of tendon and muscle soft beneath his strength—offering him a firm shake. She gives him her name. 

In that moment, she has a look about her that tells him she’ll bite back if he isn’t careful, even if she hurts herself in the process. 

And now he knows you. 

-

“We might as well acquaint ourselves if you’re going to insult me. Don’t you think?” Peering up at him, he’s tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. Older, distinguished, but in a rough way, hewn oak, gray. “Are you typically this rude? Or is this a special occasion?”

Incredibly handsome. 

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not stink. No one has ever said that to me, and my blockers are quality. It must be a you problem.” The puff pastry really is very good. And this man really is very handsome. Coming here today was a good idea. 

One of the girls from the theater had suggested it, handing you a pamphlet with Looking for the Cure for Loneliness? emblazoned across the top, and even though she’d done it kindly, any other person would’ve taken the implication as an insult. Hey girl! No offense, but we all in the company think you’re super weird and have you heard about this support group for losers? Kind of like Omegas Anonymous!

Those hadn’t been her exact words, and you hadn’t taken offense. After the initial agony of embarrassment, you’d warmed to the idea. You’d heard of groups like these before. Congregations of demi humans where one could come to find community or connection. Be it socializing or support for people struggling with their designations and all that they implied, they served their purpose. And anyways, you weren’t in a position to be nitpicky. 

It’s true, you’re alone. 

So alone, in fact, that even the people around you could tell. Strangers, coworkers, your roommate and her girlfriend. Like some noxious cloud of loneliness following you around virtue signaling the desperate need for love and companionship and understanding you’re so in need of. 

You increasingly saw yourself as a dancer on her toes, trembling delicately all over, vying desperately to survive to the end of the song. A monster with too many heads. A Cerberus of the richest caliber. 

Two or three would’ve been acceptable—heads—but you'd long surpassed that and moved on to something unrecognizable and unpleasant. Desperately in need of a solution. 

“Maybe you’re the one that stinks. Maybe it’s your upper lip.” And voila, the monster makes her debut. 

“My—” The rude alpha, obvious, that one, lets out a choked sound, a deeper wash of color immediately flooding his cheeks. You dip your head sideways, appraising him as you polish off your second pastry. He has pretty bone structure, masculine, and after he’s done choking and spluttering, he can’t help but laugh a little bit. You see it. 

Beneath a mouth that looks forbidding, perhaps even a little cruel, you can sense that he is not an unkind man. 

Yet you’re not so green that you can’t recognize the gnawing hunger of loneliness in others. There’s always a reason people find themselves in places like these. His face, edged with the weariness of age, makes this obvious. He has good reason for subjecting himself to this. 

Reaching for the lovely eclair you’d been deciding between earlier, you take a large bite of it. Almond cream and a thick layer of icing on top, humming happily as you chew while he stares at you like the three headed dog. 

You hold the dessert out towards him, offering. Palm up, he shakes his head no, slightly disgusted look on his face. 

“So. You come here often?”

He blinks. “Really?” Patronizing look on his face now. 

“Why not? I am actually interested to know if this is worth my time.”

He rolls his eyes. Oh, he’s fun. “Yes, I come here often. Every Friday, for the past two months just about.”

“And you like it?”

“Is this the sort of place one likes?”

“Oh, come on. You never know what you might find.” He watches your mouth as you finish the eclair, swallowing hard. “Anyways, I think the world is kind of over out there. Don’t you? Might as well make the best of it in here.” 

Thumb pressed against the edge of the table, he looks down, suddenly awash with shyness once again. A shy alpha, who’d of thought. 

“What did you used to do?” He asks, motioning at the crowded room full of chatting alphas and omegas. You wonder how many of them will go home together for a fuck after this. 

“When?” You ask, sure he means in lieu of this group, if you’d ever had another form of demi human community. 

“Before this.”

“Before this? Nothing.” Smiling at him, certain he isn’t picking up on your teasing. 

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I’ve always been here.”

“But— Don’t you…I thought...” He’s cute, shaking his head like you’re just too confusing to sustain. “You sing, right?” He pivots. 

“Sing? Me? Whatever made you think such a thing?” The sly look on your face goes completely over his head and slides to the rest of the sweets. If he wasn’t watching, you’d have another. 

“You said. You said you’re in the opera,” he gruffs back, looking visibly aggravated now. 

Such fun. 

“I’m a supernumerary,” you concede as you turn, making your way to an old relic of a pew along the far wall, tragically abandoning the desserts. 

He follows as you go, sitting a respectful distance beside you. 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“We’re the actors that fill the stage at the opera.”

“No singing?”

You shake your head, flirting with him. “I’m a wench, I’m a courtesan,” You bat your lashes, fingertips pressed coquettishly beneath your chin, “Part of a harem. I’m every woman you’ve never known. It depends on the opera.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I started as a stagehand when I first got to Boston. Worked my way up.”

“How’s it work? Lines or somethin’?”

“No lines. No anything. I’m a background actor—an extra, basically. If anything, I’m given some simple choreography direction, laugh, sigh, show fear, horror, shock. Whatever. I’m playing pretend without actually having to do anything.”

“No working for it.”

Your smile melts to blandness. So he’d been listening, then. 

“Did you want to sing?”

“No. I wanted to be a supernumerary.”

“Strange. I’ve never heard of that,” he repeats.

“You did say, yes.” Now, the smile turns auspicious. Everyone’s here for something. “What do you do?” Perhaps this is it for him. 

You eye the rest of the congregation, at the far exit, there’s a large alpha helping an omega into his coat. 

“Got a shop, furniture, woodworking and such.”

“You make things?” He nods. “Ah, a man of creation.” 

Sitting back to take him in, he’s got the beginning insinuations of silver speckling the dark hair at his temples, a well groomed beard, and large, intimidating hands. 

His small huff of laughter is bashful, tinged with something disappointed. “No, nothin’ that grand.” And he’s got an accent heavy at the ends of his words, not Bostonian. Southern.

“But you know, I wanted to say…”

“Yes?” You press when he loses his courage, leaning towards him, inhaling deeply. 

“Well, that I know what you meant earlier. Sometimes I can be the angry house.”

You blink once. Sit back. “I see.” 

“It’s hard work. I have to try every day at it.” 

Hard work being the house, or not? Two opposite sides of the same coin. 

“How do you stop yourself?” You cast a line, fishing for his character.

“Don’t know. Keep myself cold, I think.”

“That’s no way to be.”

“No. It’s not.” He sounds amused. You want to bite him.

Everyone’s here for a reason. 

“Ah, well. Perhaps that’s what’s brought you here then,” you say, twisting the toe of your sneaker against a scuff on the old hardwood, leaning forward on your palms wrapped around the edge of the pew. 

“Maybe,” he says, but a sort of pained, exasperated sound follows it. Your hung head turns to peer at the handsome face, and he’s already looking at you. 

There’s something animal afoot. Perhaps in terms of designation, sure, of course, like the rest of the alphas and omegas here. Your designations weigh heavily in the air. But also intrinsic to your two personalities. You feel you know him. That the two of you might have the same sorts of problems, desires. And as you stare at him, you think you may be equally measuring each other’s character, finding that similarity in one another. 

His eyes move quickly between yours, over your face, and you can tell that prolonged eye contact isn’t his norm.

He has the most surprising set of bright hazel eyes like river stones. 

Suddenly, you feel desperate to pull out a flicker of sexuality in the man, hear it in his voice. Sure, that with him, the experience would be entirely different, exhilarating. Perhaps a challenge. He seems to be more quiet and more patient than any other man you’d ever come across, but also more stern—taking in that soft mouth held so firmly. Far more remote too, by the far away look in his gaze. You want to see how he could be moved and what the sight of it would look like. 

“Maybe not,” he finally continues. “I’m looking for something, I think.” 

“Something like what?”

“Someone like me.”

“An alpha?”

“No,” he looks away, cringing. The word out loud seems a shock to him. “Did you listen to the woman at the start—missing the bad thing? I struggle…with that. Holding on, not letting go even when I know I should.”

You’re at an age now which sometimes makes it hard to realize or accept that what you’re living is your life. That it’s been time to grow up. That you have to remember to move forward when it’s your turn in line. 

Which is to say, that you understand him—the difficulties of knowing when to hold on and when to give up.

“Sometimes you hurt yourself because you don’t have anything else to do. Sometimes, because the alternative is much worse.”

“Holding on ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Sure. Or you’re used to it.” You’ll be gentle with him, you decide. He’s in need of gentle handling despite the stern face; not a puzzle so arbitrarily solved. And those eyes are still so bright, he doesn’t seem like he needs any more hardship.

“Don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this,” he says, accent heavy. 

“Well you did come here for a reason. Didn’t you?” Discreetly, you slide closer to his side, but he doesn’t notice. Apparently lost in the realization that perhaps this was what he’d come here for, to talk to someone, to have someone listen and relate. You’re almost positive he’s never gotten up to share with the group before in all his time coming to the meetings; doesn’t look like the type.

“I came here because I’m going to take better care of myself,” you tell him. “I’m going to try harder.”

“Harder at what?” He blinks as if attempting to come out of a dream.

“Everything. I don’t want to end up like my parents; drunk, angry, alone. I’m scared of it. I’ve avoided at least two of them.”

“I’m afraid of getting older,” the dream moves in his eyes. “That I’ll forget,” he says, but you don’t ask what.

All of a sudden, he seems very real. The swells of grief and loneliness moving through him so similarly, so close to the surface. 

Springing up, you turn to face him and he follows to stand too. You can hear the crack of his knees unfolding, and when he lifts his left palm to stifle a gruff cough, the band of gold around his finger is paralyzing. 

All of a sudden, he’d seemed like what you’d been looking for here too. There’s laughter coming from the church rafters. 

“You’re a widower?” He wants to forget, he’d said he wants to let go. 

Hadn’t he?

But instead, “What? No.” You stare pointedly at the ring, and he looks down at it also. “No,” he repeats. 

“So’re you looking for a fuck, or what?” You try and hold back the bite it comes with, but you can’t.

“No. No. That’s not what I’m looking for.” 

You don’t understand, impaired by your youth, you forget you’d chosen to be gentle with him. “Maybe it’s what you need,” you tell him, turning towards the exit before you can watch him cringe.

He follows at your heels, grabbing his coat from the hook by the doors before he’s stepping out after you into the fall blister. It’s cold and wet and glorious out. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” He demands.

“Nope.” You start walking towards Arlington Street and the park. 

“Did you walk here? It’s freezing out.”

“I did,” you turn back towards him, still moving, and he starts to follow. 

“From where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where?” He scowls at your uncooperation, the married man. Alpha. The truth was that he’d smelt strange to you too. Like no one ever had before. As glorious and shocking as the cold. Like if snow had a scent. Disappointment churns in your gut alongside the excitement at the sight of him stalking after you. 

“I don’t think you know it.” Your backward walk is interrupted as a hurrying stranger bumps into you, sending you staggering. Watch it, the Boston snark spits. The alpha turns to scowl, heavy boot forward like he’s half a mind to follow after the person you’ve just inadvertently assaulted. 

And it occurs to you, “You didn’t tell me your name.” How silly of you. You’d been so distracted you’d forgotten to ask, and what if you never see him again after this? What if you can’t muster the courage to come back again next week? What if he can’t?

“It’s Joel.” 

You think it sounds right. 

“I might—know it.” Where you’re headed to. You smile at the dog with a bone. The disappointment pulses. “Is it far?” He presses. You shrug, looking over your shoulder. You’re going to lose yourself in the garden for a few hours, forget about him. “Why don’t you drive?”

“I like to walk,” you tell him, turning back. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t like the things you say much less the way you say them much less the way you’re grinning at him. Perhaps he can see the disappointment and is disturbed by the sight of it, but the possibility seems too altruistic. 

“You should try it sometime, Joel. You might like it too.”

His huge body seems to be shivering in the cold. 

“I think…” The look on his face has turned suspicious now. He takes a step towards you. “You’re very strange. And you’re very young. I don’t think we should be friends.”

Your heart gives a demanding thump. “We’re not going to be friends.” When you’d first spotted him in the crowd, the strangest feeling had come over you. A tug behind your belly button, a scalding heat at the back of your neck, at your wrists. Perhaps it’s merely imagination, the look of disappointment you think you see on his face right before you turn away from him to continue on walking. “And I’m not that young anymore.”

You’d known today was going to be a good day. Extra cinnamon in your latte, a late start to your morning, warm in bed, no rain in the sky despite the cloud cover. And your director, late for rehearsals after some freak accident had befallen the roof of his house.

“That’s what all young people say.”

Part 2;

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[theoxenfree]

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possessed scholar!husband x reader |3.9k| 18+

In an unforeseen act of self-preservation, your family marries you off into an exorbitantly wealthy family, to a reclusive and reticent scholar who provides you little affection. He is suddenly called away for the handling of his late uncle's final will wishes and estate. He returns to you not himself, and with unquenchable lust.

warnings; dead dove do not eat; extreme dubon, explicit sexual content, mentions of (not explored, not described): orgies, heatplay, robbing a mortuary & drug use, masturbation w/ metal dildo, mirror sex & masturbation, hypnotism, power imbalance, murder, body horror, gruesome imagery, classism, detail & prose heavy, roughly proofread.

this is a concept piece, possibly preluding a full story! if you have any interest in having me build a larger piece out of this concept, PLEASE reblog + interact and let me know! I'm only going to go forward with it if folks express interest!

read to the end for author's notes!

In the airless dark of your bedroom at night, you knew the man lying next to you under covers was not your husband. Once he had been, but now he no longer was.

The revelation had come to you before noticing the stillness of his broad frame in bed, certain stiffness which seemed more alike to rigor in a days old corpse rather than a man wrapped in the comforting spell of deep sleep.

His breaths were silent, if he even breathed at all, reminding you of childhood where the floorboards wouldn't creak so loudly if you sucked all the air out from your lungs into your throat, snagging it, holding it firm. Suddenly, you'd be lighter; effervescent; floating across the wooden slabs towards the kitchen past midnight, or out the front door during the years where testing your parent’s patience and fraying the head maid’s nerves was your favorite thing to do.

You’d learned later on, after the loveless vows and complicated legality behind joining your two families, that your husband had a knack for slipping away at night as well. Only, he wasn't at all the sort for flirtatious gallivanting and loquacious rendezvous with secret lovers in dim rooms, smells of mildew masked by a numbingly sweet, perfumey fog.

He was reclusive and reticent; one of those outstandingly brilliant scholars who believed the rest of the world was below him because he hadn't found an equal in conversation or thought. Social obligations—no matter the occasion or person—pained him to where he intentionally brought you as a buffer between himself and whomever was trying to speak to him.

Some of the talk was so astronomically beyond you that parroting the long-winded answers he spoke softly into your ear back to his audience made you burn under the collar from embarrassment and his proximity to you. His peers could not understand why he simply wouldn't talk for himself; meanwhile, they also wondered why someone without their level of formal education had even accompanied him.

At night, he became one with darkness and retreated to the depths of his study across the massive house you shared together. It was part of one of his family’s various estates dotted across the country and his favorite, due to its location near the university where he worked (at his leisure), and its closeness to his only relative he actually cared about.

“My uncle—he has passed. Of complications caused from tuberculosis, I've been told. I was the only family member placed in his will, therefore it falls to me to settle all remaining affairs he may have overlooked,” he said, letting you help him into his heavy, wool coat he left on a hook near the front door. At his side was a hulking suitcase; one he often used for trips that were days—weeks away from home, from you. “He was a far more private man than I, so there's no telling what I'll come across while I'm there. I cannot tell you how long I'll be away. I'm sorry.”

You expected nothing less from him. This man who had only ever touched you once, on your wedding day. He did everything that he was supposed to: tonelessly regurgitate scripted vows he committed to memory, hold your hands, and kiss you at the altar for more than two seconds but less than five, and then gently lead you away once both families were pleased with the performance.

Right after, now as newlyweds, he poured bourbon into exquisite crosshatch crystalware and examined the glistening amber under wan lamplight. He apologized for kissing you, that he wouldn't have had at all if it hadn't been so important for your families.

At the time, it made you feel very ugly and undeserving of the silk and ornate lacework decorating your body. The gold band fitted around your finger was a lofty symbol of acquired wealth, heavy and unforgiving.

“Write to me every once and a while,” was all you could think to say at present, managing your composure well enough as he gripped the handle of his suitcase and leaned into its heftiness on that side. “It'd just be nice to know how you're doing. If you find anything interesting. When you'll be coming home. It gives me something to look forward to.”

“I'll try to,” he said, but looked through you, pierced you, as though trying to see something else. You saw this look most often at events or parties where he'd fixate on a specific point (usually you) and seem to recede inside himself, into his thoughts, perhaps trying to dissect them or make them congeal into something linear.

“Uncle was an eccentric man. There's no telling what he's left behind for me to find. I must go. Be well, my dear.”

Once again, he left you behind without remorse.

Four months passed with agonizing, gripping slowness from the crisp mornings of late autumn into the icy vise of winter and a shimmering white-blue landscape outside your windows.

In those days, you occupied yourself as best you could with guests and alcoholic merriment, whisked yourself away to parties and dinners after wringing out the invitations from friends, and spent many sleepless nights sprawled across the floor beside the fireplace coveting self-pleasure.

You imagined it was your husband there with you, immediately a renewed man after his return and finding you boundlessly desirable, fucking you with his cock rather than the freezing metal dildo you thrust inside yourself.

Even once you were finished, fucked out by your own hand and the object gaping you wide, you kept masturbating until you lost sensation, the motions and metal numbing you inside—until the intimacy and thrill of self-discovery had lost meaning to you.

Sometimes, you were found the next morning by a maid like that: thoroughly debauched with the phallus having rolled away nearby or still shallowly pressed inside. You only needed to threaten her livelihood once for her to never speak of it, pretend each time she hadn't witnessed a regrettable case of personal depravity.

It'd eventually become a frequent enough sight to her that she knew better than to look directly at you when she entered the room. Rather, now, she carried a laundered pair of trousers in with her. They were draped neatly over a bent arm, along with a warm and soapy rag in her hand, which she used to lightly clean you of dried fluids. Afterward, she helped you into the new garment.

“You have received a letter from the Master,” she said unexpectedly one morning, after fastening your pants and tucking your blouse inside them. “It's strange, though, because it doesn't feel like a letter. Not enough… substance. Shall I open it for you?”

“No! No, that's alright.” You took the long, pale envelope from her once she revealed it to you, realizing that she was right. There was nothing to it. Light as a feather, but completely sealed on the back with his personal emblem hastily stamped, or more appropriately, smeared, with red wax dribbling away from center towards the bottom of the envelope as if sudden jerkiness had unsteadied his focused pour.

You flipped the thing front to back several times, testing the way the opposite ends fluttered from nothingness within, and glanced aside to your maid.

She looked to be just as thrown.

“You're sure this is from him?” you asked, bemused. “Who delivered this?”

“Why, a courier on horseback, of course!” she said with conviction, so you knew she wasn't lying to you at that moment. It wasn't her habit to weave tales to get a rise out of her employers, anyway. “I even spoke to the courier for a while because I made a comment about it being so light. He wasn't sure about it, either, but the description of the man who hired him matched the Master almost exactly.”

You had found a letter opener on the desk nearby and made a quick cut under the wax to break the seal without ripping the envelope itself.

“Almost? What does that mean here?” you raised the intact flap with the messy seal attached, freeing all of the residual tracks of wax from the paper so that they fell to the hardwood below like pebbles shaken out of a shoe after a stroll through the yard. “The man was either my husband or he wasn't.”

The maid tried to subdue her intrigue of the envelope, turned, and moved onto bunching up the soiled sheet you'd spread out on the floor last night. “Please don't misunderstand. It was him. But, the courier described him as ‘a very interesting and friendly fellow to converse with’.”

“What?”

You were responding to two things simultaneously right then: what your maid had just told you, and the fact that the only content inside the envelope was a single shred of paper torn from an unlined journal.

The maid fluttered back over to your side as you plucked out the slither of paper, letting the envelope fall freely from your hand to the floor. Leaning into your proximity, she read aloud the same three words that your eyes skimmed:

“Father Marius DuMonde.”

Just as you had done before with the envelope, you flipped the scrap back and forth as though trying to magically flip something into existence. Your husband's handwriting was recognizable in the lettering, but it was impatient; scrawled across a page in one journal in his vast collection like he hurriedly walked past, and then ripped it out.

Nothing else was revealed to you in the seconds after, nor in your long, contemplative stare.

“Who is that?” you asked the maid to alleviate a fast yawning gap of uneasiness beginning to make you fidget and fluster. “A priest?”

The maid beamed in awe of your fast deductive skills and nodded eagerly. “It would seem that way! The city has more places of worship than it does homes for the hungry and sick. Although, I suppose a church offers some of those services.” However, the lightness sank out of her face when you didn't reciprocate that enthusiasm whatsoever. “You’re unhappy? What's wrong?”

“My husband is a scholar. A rigid man of science,” you said, bending over to pick up the discarded envelope to closer examine the disastrous wax seal. “He denounces faith in all forms. Why did he write a priest's name to me?”

That maddening thought followed you for days afterward, sufficiently distracting you from all the regular vices you'd come to rely on to fill the void of your husband's absence. Fulfill the needs he'd never tried to meet even while he was around.

You spent your days brooding in the window seats in whichever room was warmest, molding against their domed shape while leaning a cheek flush to frigid glass, eyes bloodshot and watering against the sun’s searing neon reflecting off of a lawn of undiluted, glittering white.

Seldomly, a finch or small vermin would come into your view—hopping or lunging through the snow, making tracks, digging holes, disturbing your beautiful wonderland and almost arousing you into unreasonable outbursts which then inevitably became the servants responsibility to contend with, should any be nearby to provoke you.

It was the early evening during one of your normal watches, just after dinner and a glass of red wine, when a great clamor carried swiftly to you from the foyer of the main entrance. The servants’ voices were a feverish amalgam of nonsensical babbling, high-pitched, and accommodating in a way that made you think of groveling dogs with flattened ears, wagging and tucked tails, bellies upturned to their masters.

“Come! Come quickly!” called your maid from the sitting room door, her shrill, excitable voice a violent jostling in your head, scrambling your thoughts and anger with it. “Master has returned! He's asking for you.”

You delayed the reunion, waiting several minutes after she had gone before standing. You realized that the anticipation you felt swelling in your chest, rising like growth—a malignant tumor into your throat, thickening your tongue and fouling your taste and smell, was because you were uneasy, haunted by the cryptic message he had presumably sent you weeks ago.

A while later, you entered the foyer to see most of the staff had already dispersed and the ones left behind were your husband’s most loyal. There among them, speaking so unremarkably, so casually in a way you'd never witnessed, was your husband. His good spirits and animated gestures as he handed off all his things to many hands were an odd sight, staggeringly unlike his typical dour.

So, the rumor was true. There was something discomforting in that.

Whatever topic he'd been engaged in fell wayside once he took sight of you: standing, waiting, subtly shifting your weight, picking your overgrown cuticles to remedy how nervous you truly felt in that moment. You'd always been a little uncertain of how to deal with him as he was hardly affable, but this—

“Oh my… there you are, my sweet!” his voice was exactly the same, but his way of speaking was too jarring, almost lilting. Unnatural. No one else seemed to notice. “I was worried you may have been cross with me for being away for so long. As it turned out, uncle had far more beneath the surface to find than I once thought. But, all is well! The old man has been laid to rest forever. The estate is in the right hands. I've come back to you.”

Could this man really be your husband?

He came to you in brisk strides with a certain clumsiness to the way he moved, somewhat off. You thought about seasoned drunkards who could walk along a path, but never on a straight line without gently swaying on and off of it. Mostly in control, but never so well to appear normal.

But, you didn't detect that stiff, hot, fermented reek of alcohol on his breath nor any subtle odor sticking to his clothes as he gripped you tight in an embrace. The only one he'd ever given you. Where you should have been over the moon in joy at his profound change in heart, the little sweetness was like an anchor—arms of a sinewy willow pinning you to an even stronger trunk.

“God, you're breathtaking.” He even sounded winded as he spoke, lifting your face up with both hands to see his dark, dark gleaming eyes. You startled from his cold touch, fingertips pinpricks of pure frost and ice as they pushed into your skin, but you felt trying to reach much deeper than that. “Come with me, my love. Let me show you just how much I've missed you.”

As if fantasy had become real, he fucked you relentlessly that night next to the fireplace, consuming you so completely that every orgasm made your insides churn in agony.

He laved at you with his entire mouth, tongue and teeth hardest at work while his hands bruised and fondled you, fingers thrusting up into your tight hole oozing his saliva and your arousal. It was shameful to think that it took this sort of handling from another person to get you off, squeal like a sow.

He fucked you however he could, wherever he could. Rutting you from behind and against furniture, pressing your bare chest flush to frosted over window panes to make your nipples erect and ache from the cold biting them.

Then, you were settled on his lap in front of a mirror hanging adjacent across the bedroom, his thighs spreading you wide open before your own reflection where you watched his cock plunge deep, filling you to the base of his shaft, balls slapping your sticky skin.

“Touch yourself, darling.” His throat rumbled, turning over stones and shards of glass, overall sounding very husky. There was something of wheeze that trailed the end of his every word, like he’d been patched for a long time. “Touch yourself. Watch yourself while you do it. Fuck yourself like the whore you are.”

Although the things he said were horribly uncouth, unbefitting of a man of his status and who you'd known him to be, there was great allure in hearing him, obeying his wants. You'd only had one glass of wine that evening, but your head and body warmed and buzzed like you'd had several.

His voice was a raspy whisper in your ears, seeping deep into your mind; spreading; fitting the grooves of your brain like the slow sprawl of sap through the gaps in bark. You were hardly yourself those minutes, those hours onward where you witnessed your reflection stroking throbbing parts, moaning, weeping, cumming until it hurt, and then doing it all over again.

The person in the mirror seemed to be someone completely different, whether simply disassociation from yourself or some hallucination evoked by exhaustion and ecstacy. Your husband had faded into the background, his voice creating sounds and noises, holding the cadence of language while seeming entirely unprobable, unknowable to you.

You couldn't understand him, yet you could, and the things he said were vile and disgusting and moralless. He told you of every way he'd like to fuck you, watch you be fucked; but, mostly, he wanted you to fuck yourself with the bulbous bedposts, the metal phallus held under lashing flames to be inserted next to his own cock.

He suggested orgies where the servants could take turns with you. He had almost convinced you to call for your maid so he could watch you suck on her breasts and lick her clit, while he rammed you from the back. He suggested drugs and whores, robbing the mortuaries, and worse and worse and worse and worse…

The next morning, you were stiff and immobile, bedridden unless two servants came into your room to help you squat on the commode. Your abdomen was tender and your genitals were untouchable, forcing you to lie in bed without undergarments to alleviate the raw chafing that could happen with fabric.

“I'm sorry, my darling. I—I lost control of myself. I got carried away,” your husband confessed later on, his sallow complexion keeping a weird, waxy sheen to it. A mask that fits, but not quite perfectly. Some of his former somber nature had returned to him as he sat on the edge of your bed, caressing the side of your face. He was still ridiculously cold. “Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't realize just how desperate I was to see you again until you were in my arms. And then—and then, it was like it was all a dream.”

You thought the very same. You could believe he forgot himself in an uncharacteristic blaze of lust, as men were never taught to be any other way, and most men couldn't fathom the level of restraint he’d had until last night.

Everything else, you'd wanted to believe, was simply imagined after drinking more than you once thought and getting inside your own head full of sinful indulgences.

Still, one thing bothered you: Father Marius DuMonde.

“I need you to go to the city and find him. And show him this paper. Explain to him everything that you know, you hear?” You'd handed your maid the old envelope and scrap of paper, and handed her a generous bag of coins from your own safe.

She looked at you, everything else, in bewilderment. “Don't ask questions. If you're able, bring him back here. Beg him if you must. If it's all nothing, he will simply be an honored guest we feed well, house, and send off gracefully the next day. Should it be something…”

“Are you afraid of him? The Master?” asked the maid, perhaps out of faithfulness to him. Perhaps out of devotion to you the most. “What do you think happened at his uncle's estate?”

It would all be speculation and unjustified gossip without proof, of which you had none. So, you told her that you couldn't be sure of anything right now. “Wait until sundown. Take the old pony in the stables, the one that usually lags behind all the rest. Be silent. Be careful.”

The maid did as you asked and left right before the final light was extinguished by indigo nightfall. You were able to move to one of the windows, seating yourself gingerly, watching her lead the sluggish old pony into cover of tree tops and then nothing else.

But, five days later, the maid hadn't returned from her mission, nor had you received any correspondence from her, nor the priest that she was supposed to retrieve.

A week after that, it was revealed to you that neither she or the old pony had made it out of the woods. The details of the old pony were so gruesome you couldn't bear to remember them.

But, the maid was found nearly decapitated, head twisted around to face backwards, her pale skin hideously purple and black and swelled where it had been stretched like a strap of wrung leather. It was mentioned she had been disemboweled as well, but you promptly burst into tears and ran from the room before the visiting coroner could finish speaking, leaving him to discuss the rest with just your husband.

That night, you lay next to your husband in bed. The deep silence of night filled your ears with static and crunching cotton, whereas a hum resonated inside your head, your chest, seeping into your bones like a cold blanket of rainfall.

The black air took on weird shapes: imagined appendages curling, reaching across the ceiling towards the bed, towards you. Your eyes couldn't focus enough to ward them off, nor the depth of dark your husband's silhouette had at your side.

He was faced the other way, his clothes back to you, completely unmoving. You ventured closer to listen for the thin breathing of sleep, the automatic rise and fall of his body, and yet he could've been mistaken as one of the dead. As dead and gnarled as your maid.

“Who are you?” you asked him. Asked the swirling nothingness in the room. “Where is my husband?”

“You've nothing to worry about, my sweet,” he said readily, so clearly anticipating to have your voice ring out at some point in the night. “He is here with me. Such a selfish, unlovable man. I am the one worthy of this vessel and you. Not he.”

Then, he rolled on top of you and kissed you deeply. Your bedclothes were shucked from your bodies and he pushed your thighs apart to seat himself inside of you. He took you with greedy thrusts, face fitted against the arch of your neck where his breath left a moist film across your skin, but the rest of him was freezing.

Your whimpers of pains were dwarfed by his hot moans into your flesh, teeth suddenly sharper and sinking deep when he bit into your neck. You were trapped staring at the ceiling, wrapped in agony and pleasure, feeling his body under your fingertips beginning to distort and change into something far more monstrous.

a/n; this is heavily inspired from me reading the exorcist, recently. the section with the maid's head swiveled around was a nod to the scene with director having "fallen" from a height and dying similarly. a lot of my most recent reads have been extremely graphic, so my writing has been reflecting that and it's been interesting!

quick q&a!

is father marius dumonde the same father marius from your vampire priest fic? yup! if I go forward with writing the longer story, father marius will be a central character later on, and father shaw will make a reappearance as well.

what would the main differences be in a full story vs just this piece?

a) the husband would be given a more solid identity, appearance, and name. he'd have more depth to build an emotional rapport with his character.

b) existing scenes would be expanded, smut scenes grittier and more graphic, more development between mc and the husband, the maid would have a more important part and given an identity. essentially, most elements from this price would be fleshed out and expanded.

c) I intend to add a "mystery" element to this where mc tries to unveil what happened during the husband's stay at his uncle's estate.

d) I would open up multiple polls to help influence different aspects of the story such as the husband's name, appearance, overall disposition, whether the majority would vote for a happy ending with the husband vs the ending with the demon.

if you're interested in seeing a full story, make sure to reblog and share your thoughts with me!! I'd love to hear feedback on this to know what you'd like to see in the future!

[russellsppttemplates]

My person (Charles Leclerc)

Your brother's best friend is sure you were made for eachother

Note: english is not my first language. Most times I read a brother's best friend trope, it's usually the reader going after the boy, so I felt like doing things a little bit different (also, my brain got a bit jumbled because I was wondering about the perspective, and in the end I went with reader being Joris' twin). Also, I always feel a little bit of impostor's syndrome whenever I post these tropes for which I've read many great pieces about it, and I never know if my ones are good enough to be posted but we're going with it

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Most people thought having a twin brother was bitter sweet because while you had to share everything since the womb, you had a brother so there came a time where you wanted to have different toys, different rooms and different styles.

Different friends, however, was never a question. Even with different interests, you and Joris often came as a duo, so both of your friend groups were pretty close.

"We're going to Charles' apartment to watch the football game, are you joining us?", Joris asked, throwing himself on your sofa and partially occupying your personal space, "Marta is going to be over and I think she's taking Chiara with her, too".

You don't remember a time where Charles wasn't in your life. Your brother knew him since they were in kindergarten and so there wasn't a memory where he wasn't involved. Which brought you to the last time you were with him, just a week before.

Charles spent the afternoon with Joris at your brother's apartment, wanting to relax and game for the rest of the day.

"It's Y/N", Charles said as he gave Joris his ringing phone, your caller ID prompting him to pick the calk up right away, "can you come and get me, please?", he heard you faintly as Joris got up straight away, listening to whatever you were telling as he put on his trainers and jacket.

"Y/N needs me to pick her up from the café - turns out her date thought she wouldn't mind going home on her own", Joris rolled his eyes, "it will be quick, you're good on your own here?", he checked with Charles, "sure", the driver assured, unpausing the game and carrying on.

Another date and another disappointment for you, Charles thought. While you weren't as close as his brother was to him, he still knew about your life as much as your other friends, and lately you had been looking for someone, your person, you claimed. Luck had yet to join your search as every date you went on seemed to go between bad and awful.

If he had the courage to come clean about his feelings, maybe things would be different. For a while, yes, you were Joris' twin sister and that was it. You were a cool girl and he didn't mind spending time with you or having your hang out with their group, but things changed when you went to university.

Maybe it was your glow up, although you never needed one to catch his eye in the first place, but year after year, you grew to exude confidence, your natural beauty enhanced as you turned into a charming, caring and kind young woman.

Since he didn't want to ruin the bond you had, he watched it all happen from the sidelines. How happy you sounded whenever you had a date later in the week, whenever a cute guy came up to you in the club and how you squealed "I think this one might be the one!" as you excused yourself and declined dinner invitations from the group for a date.

He heard the door open and then close, footsteps approaching the living room as he paused the game just in time for you to sit on the sofa, "what's up, Leclerc?", you nudged his shoulder.

"I'm good, how are you?", he quesioned, "I guess that one isn't the love of your life either?", he semi joked.

"He was certifiable, at the very least", you began as the boys chuckled, "Hey! I'm qualified to make such appreciation! He kept talking about himself and he was borderline sexist, but then he said I would be fine going home on my own? I don't know, it was a mess and I can't believe I even experienced that - I'm going to pretend it was a fever dream", you shrugged your shoulders, "I was expecting to spend the afternoon with him - thank Goodness I didn't, - and the construction work at my place is still going so I don't have anywhere to go, I'm sorry if I'm crashing your afternoon", you gulped.

"It's fine, it's nice having company other than us two playing and screaming at eachother", Charles smiled as Joris shrugged his shoulders, "you're already staying her until the building work is done", you brother offered.

"I wasn't asking you, silly; you're my twin, dealing with me it's something that comes with the job", you winked.

When it came to dinner time, the three of you decided to have take out, your brother calling the restaurant and scheduling a time for him to pick it up, "I'm going to shower", you said as you got up from the sofa, heading to the guest room you were staying in.

By the time you got out, your heard Joris shout that he was leaving while you put on some comfy clothes for the evening in. When you went to the balcony so your towels could air dry for a bit, you sat in the padded chair, looking out to the sunset.

He would come, you thought. It wasn't particularly a manifestation or a "throw it at the universe" kind of thing, but rather something to reassure yourself. You were worthy of the standards you set for yourself and there was someone out there for you, and he would come.

"Hey", Charles stepped into the balcony, coming to sit in the chair next to yours, "a cent for your thoughts?", he smiled softly, the warm yellow and orange light hitting his eyes in a glowy hue.

"Do you believe that the right person for you is out there?", you shot softly.

"I know she is", Charles gulped, "Oh, confident!", you giggled softly, "but it's nice, better than being sulky like me".

"I'm not sure how much better it is. I know she is out there, but it's a little more complicated than just going up to her and tell her that", he played with hia thumbs.

"So you're chickening out?", you quirked your eyebrow, partly teasing him but genuinely curious about it. You didn't have enough fingers to count how many girls tried to approach you and befriend you with the only goal of getting into a friendship circle that would lead them to Charles, and he could probably chat up anyone he wanted, so it was hard for you to understand how he didn't have the love of his life with him yet.

"It's not chickening out if you think it might cause some issues with your friends, I think. I'm being prudent, that's all", Charles tried, wanting to take the opportunity to try and see where you stood. Girls were usually sharper than guys, so you said many times, maybe you'd take the hint.

"If I knew who the love of my life was, I would go to him and never look back. I know it sounds silly, but I wouldn't want to be away from him a second longer, it would be quite shitty if he was in a relationship", you mused, "but if we were really meant to be together - if it was a both ways kind of thing - he would know it, right? Goodness, sound a bit like a romantic sop, don't I?", you chuckled, "but I would fight for him, for us".

Charles felt inspired before he felt a little angry. Here you here saying you would fight until you found your person when he was right there. If it really worked as a both ways thing, you'd have to know and feel the person you kept looking for was him. He broke into a full belly laugh as he stated at you. No make-up, hair sitting in its natural wave and comfy clothes, you never looked so beautiful to him.

"Would you let me fight for us, too?", he mused quietly but loud enough for you to hear, "would you want me to do that?".

Giggling at him, you could only shake your head at his words, "I know this sound silly - Joris teases me enough about it enough", you groaned as your hands covered your face.

"I'm not joking or teasing", Charles clarified, turning to face you on the chair, "All I want is for you to look at me the way you look at them", Charles stated, "whenever you talk about your dates before you go on them, you're so hopeful that that guy will be the one, you look forward to it like it will be that time, and you never looked at me that way when I constantly make efforts to hung the stars and the moon for you and stand there hoping they get to you".

His confession took you off guard. Charles just admitted he liked you, in a way with words that was more elaborate than what any of your dates had ever told you combined.

"I thought you were being nice?! Was this some sort of plan?!", you quesioned immediately. He had been around you your whole life, you surely would've noticed it, wouldn't you?

Charles chuckled in a way you found a smidge belittling, "it wasn't a plan! Y/N, I have not been planning this or doing some strategy, it just happened out of nowhere!", Charles bit back, "like you said, the person for me is out there and she's you!".

The noise from the door pulled both of you out your discussion, your brother's singalong voice announcing he was back with the food.

Dusting your sweatpants, you stepped back inside the living room, shaking off the jitters you had as your brother scrunched up his face, "is everything okay?", he asked.

"Of course, I'm just hungry and you drove like a grandpa here", you bickered back as Charles joined you at the table, "I'll get the cutlery and plates from the kitchen", you mumbled.

The dinner was eaten quietly on your side, Charles and Joris making most of the conversation as you exchanged a few looks with the Formula One driver, your twin brother seemingly obvious as he carried on as usual, "I'm going to bed", you said after helping tidy, "are you sure? We were going to watch something on TV?", Joris asked you.

"I'm getting a headache, so I'll pass, good night boys", you gave them tight lipped smile.

In the bedroom, you changed into your pyjamas and finished your night-time routine and got under the sheets, Charles' words replaying as you looked at the ceiling.

"Y/N? Are you joining us or not? Do you have any plans?", Joris insisted, "you've been weird lately", he pointed out.

"I'll join you, yes, just need to get my hoodie and then I'll be good to go", you scrambled out as your heart beat faster inside your chest.

Joris offered to drive to Charles' apartment, getting there when Riccardo, Marta and little Chiara were alresdy inside with Charles.

"The rest of the group couldn't come, so it's just us", Riccardo said as he noticed your expression, "what a shame, more food for us!", you smirked, sitting next to Marta and playing with the little girl on her lap, "hello, my love, hello!", you cooed in the voice you only had for babies, "look at you so grown up! You get more beautiful everytime I see you", you smiled, tickling her chin softly as she giggled loudly.

"Who did the roast potatoes last time we got together?", Joris stepped back into the living room, "I did", you stated as you grabbed one of the toys on the coffee table, ready to sit down on the floor so you and Chiara could play together.

"Don't sit down!", your brother yelled, "sorry, but you can't sit down - Charles needs help with the potatoes and he doesn't know the recipe like you do", he reasoned as you got up, trying not to show how much you didn't want to be in the same room alone with Charles. Watching football while having dinner with your group of friends was one thing, spending one on one time with Charles after what he said to you the last time was another.

"Hey", you said as you stepped into the kitchen, "Joris said you needed help, what can I do?".

Charles smiled a little, maybe at the irony of your quesion, "I don't know what seasonings to use in these", he said as he showed you the vegetable with the ones he already cut up.

"Okay, do you keep the spices in the same place?", you asked as he nodded, encouraging you to use his kitchen like it was your own.

Opening the cabinets and grabbing what you needed, you started mixing the ingredients and cutting up the ones you needed to, "can you get me the olive oil, please? I can't reach it", you asked and Charles complied, "thank you".

"Is this how this is going to be? Interacting like we haven't known eachother since we were little and like I haven't poured my heart out to you?", Charles said, arms crossed as he rested against the kitchen counter.

"I wasn't counting on you saying all of that, I was so caught off guard that I haven't been able to think about anything else in my off time!", you offered, setting the knife down on the chopping board.

"It's not like people have speeches ready and give of warnings when they're about to confess their feelings for someone... I myself wasn't expecting to do it until the words came out of my mouth", Charles gestured as if he was vomiting, "what do you expect it to be like anyway? People have to warn you they have feelings for you and ask if you want to hear it?! Is that what you want?".

"I want to feel loved, appreciated and valued. I want to be with someone that reminds me that I'm beautiful, that I'm smart and I'm wonderful. I want to share my life with someone who has no trouble with me wanting to have both career goals and family goals, I want someone who supports me as much as a support him, who is willing to do silly things because I enjoy them and who loves me for me, flaws and all", you let out in one go, "That's what I want".

Charles eyebrows climbed on his forehead, "Are you insinuating I can't give you that? Is that why we haven't spoken since that evening at Joris' place?".

"I'm saying you're my brother's best friend, and no matter how much I think you can do it - because you make me feel like that just from being my friend, imagine if we were dating -, I don't want to risk whatever we have, all of us", you gestured to the living room where the rest of the group was.

"Y/N", Charles pleaded, "you don't think I've thought about that? I didn't do it on a whim like you think I did, I've been sitting on this for quite a while, actually", he clarified, "I will respect whatever you decide, okay? But can't just sit and pretend that you don't want this thing between you and me as much as I do, because we could be so good-", he was interrupted as Marta crossed the corner and stepped inside the kitchen, "Charles, can I heat Chiara's soup on the microwave?", she asked with the small tupperware on her hands.

"Sure, here", he guided her as you resumed to seasoning the potatoes, putting them on the tray and then in the oven, "the game is about to start, hurry up!", Joris yelled.

"I'll just wash this, and that too", you took the tupperware's lid as well as the utensils you needed for the dressing.

"I need to cool it down a little, maybe in a bigger bowl", Marta said as Charles helped in getting the bowl from the cupboard as you set the utensils aside to dry, "Merci, Charles, off we go then", she said as she waited for you both to leave and go to the living room so she could follow you.

"Come here, sweet cheeks", you clapped at Chiara, taking her away from your brother's arms and putting her in the highchair so she could eat comfortably, "auntie Y/N is going to give you your delicious soup, yummy yummy", you smiled.

Charles couldn't help but take in the sight, how you made Chiara feel like she was the only person in the world as you smiled and spoke to her, finding a million and one ways to get her to eat the soup in the bowl.

The food was ready by the half-time break, so you all helped with bringing the food to the table, eating it as the team you were supporting ended up winning the game.

"She's knocked out", you pointed out to Riccardo, Chiara asleep in the little makeshift cot you made on the sofa with some pillows and blankets to make sure she was warm and secure.

"We can clean up, you guys go home and take this little princess to sleep in her own bed", Charles smiled, stroking the little girl's cheek softly as he watched her peaceful expression.

"You don't mind?", Marta wondered as the three of you nodded, helping the parents gather their daughter's belongings so they could leave, hoping she wouldn't wake up and make it harder for her to fall back asleep.

"Sweet dreams, petite fleur", you cooed as Marta cuddled Chiara into her chest, squeezing her small hand softly before they walked out of the door.

"These need to go on the dishwasher", you sorted through the plates and checked if they were safe to go on the machine as your brother help you.

"We should probably get going", Joris said, not wanting to overstay your welcome, "do you need anything else, Charles? Otherwise, me and Y/N will leave you to it", he said.

"Actually, me and Charles need to talk, if that's okay", you looked at the driver, catching him by surprise before he nodded in agreement.

Joris didn't dwell too much on it like you thought he would, "so you need me to come and pick you up or...?", he trailed before Charles saved you, "don't worry, I've got her", he stated.

When Charles accompanied your twin brother to the door, he was blunt and honest, "She's my sister, but there could be worse guys than you", Joris offered as Charles narrowed his eyes, "Oh, please, do you think I'm that blind? I've seen the way you look at her and how you always go above and beyond for her - she's just being too stubborn about it to see it, too. Still, if you ever break her heart or cause her any tears of sadness and anger, you're going to wish I didn't know so much about you", he threatened, although it didn't go as planned as they both laughed, "I trust you, there wasn't anyone I would trust like this", he sighed, "you're just lucky you have brothers, otherwise I might've taken revenge on you", he nudged his shoulder.

"I bet Lorenzo would enjoy a cuddle every now and again if you'd like", Charles giggled before he showed his seriousness again, "I just want this to work out between us, I think she's my person, you know?", he mused, realising how cliché and whipped he sounded, "I'll take care of her, you don't need to worry", he assured.

Charles closed the door and walked back to the living room where you sat down on the sofa, legs covered with one of the blankets, "I- thank you for staying back", he smiled, pointing with his eyes to the spot next to you silently asking if he could sit.

You opened the blanket so he could sit next to you and you could both keep warm, "I want to apoligise for not saying anything the last time we spoke, and for how I've handled this", you began, "I'm sorry, Charles", you said earnestly.

"Apology accepted", he nodded, "and did you just stay here to apoligise?", he quesioned.

"I- I thought we could have a date, sort of anyway", you mumbled, "and I could also tell you how I feel about you since it seems I owe you that with what you've told me", you looked into his eyes, "it wasn't that you were ever off bounds or anything like that, I never cared for those supposed rules, but it never occurred to me", you blurted and Charles quirked a brow, "shoot, that's not what I meant, ugh", you grunted as he soothingly rubbed your thigh, "what I meant is I always thought you'd never look at me that way - I'm Joris' twin - so I just took all of the affection I had for you and put it in a friendship feelings and all of the things you did for me, I thought you were just being nice because you're a nice guy", you clarified.

"Does this mean you're letting me treat you like you deserve? Because I plan on making sure you feel and know you're wonderful every single day", he smiled charmingly, confident words contrasting with his shy attempt of lacing your fingers together on his lap.

"How can you be so sure we are eachother's person?", you couldn't help but mumble, even if the butterflies in your stomach were dancing like they hadn't been in a long time, "I just know, and I'll help you see it, too", he smiled, kissing your knuckles before he pulled you to his chest, finding something to watch on the TV.

You both watched reruns of one of your favourite shows, pointing out little details you loved and talking about any topic that came to mind, and once Charles' body warmth and his touches along your arm caught up to your system and lulled you to sleep, your head finding it's spot on his chest as he smiled down at you, your beauty never ceasing to amaze him as he noticed every mole, freckle and scar on your face from up close.

Even if he didn't want to move, and that it wouldn't be the first time he slept on his sofa, he reasoned that he should at least offer you his bed. Softly stroking your cheek, he coaxed you to wake up, "I'm sorry for waking you up, but we can't sleep here", he whispered, kissing the side of your head, "you can sleep in my bed, I'll take the sofa", he offered as you stretched a little bit, removing yourself from his chest.

"If you promise you won't do any funny business, we can sleep in the same bed", you yawned.

"Of course I won't, Y/N! I would never do anything you didn't want to, I-", Charles panicked, not wanting you to think he was trying to take advantage of you.

"I'm only kidding, I know you won't", you assured, arms pulling him to stand up with you as you walked to the bedroom after turning everything off, "I trust you, Charles, completely", you smiled.

To him, it meant the world.

You felt his heart race when your hand landed on his chest, "I need a t-shirt, though, this is not comfy to sleep in", you reasoned as he looked for one on his drawers, "here, you can get ready here while I get ready in the bathroom", he smiled, kissing the top of your head before he stepped inside the ensuite.

After you swapped so you could brush your teeth, you were both undoing the bed, pulling the sheets back over you and having eachother.

"I really want to kiss you right now, but I don't want to cross any boundaries", Charles admitted as your heart raced in your chest, "I'd really like that, you can kiss me if you want", you consented.

Charles leaned to rub your nose in his before kissing your lips softly, allowing you both to revel in the feelings that had been put in labelled boxes at the back of your minds.

Parting your lips to breathe, you cupped Charles' cheek, your palm tickling from his facial hair as your thumb rubbed his skin, "I think you might be right", you mumbled, licking your lips, "about what?", he mused, "about the fact that you'll help me see it too", you smiled.

The next morning, you woke up with Charles looking at you, "Good morning, Y/N", he greeted, "See? I didn't pull any funny business", he wiggled his brows chuckling.

This was a sight you could get used to.

"Good morning", you smiled, "did you sleep well?", you wondered, pulling closer to him now that you were awake.

"I did, did you?", he asked and you nodded, cuddling closer to him and basking in the feeling of just being there.

"We are going to take this as slow as you want", Charles whispered against your forehead, leaving little kisses and pecks on your skin, "but I want you to know I'm all in".

"I'm all in, too", you whispered, "I can't promise you it will be a straight line - or that I won't spiral out every now and again because hey, it's me -, but I feel really good about this, you make me feel really good", you blushed as you kissed between his eyebrows, "having said this, not all of us have the day to do some training and sim racing, and I'm one of them. I have to go home to change and then head to the clinic", you pouted slightly.

"How about I make us some breakfast first, then I'll drop you off?", he suggested, stealing a peck from your lips, "hmm, sounds good", you hummed.

.

"Were you expecting us to be surprised?", Marta said as she and her family arrived in Charles' yacht, the three of them seeing you and Charles kissing at the table.

Throwing your head back in laughter as Charles walked up to help them inside, you shielded your eyes from the sun with your hand, "at least pretend you are", you joked.

"Oh my Goodness, I never thought you two would become a thing? Does this mean we can finally stop hearing your disgraced love life stories and Charles' complaints about who you went on a date with?", Riccardo belted out, catching the attention from a couple on the yacht next to the one you were sitting on.

"To be fair, that's how I noticed it", Marta began, "Charles didn't complain anymore about how he was alone and that the universe wasn't working on his favour", she smirked, greeting you two.

"We have been keeping it down low just to see how things would go", you blushed at getting caught and steering the conversation elsewhere once Chiara babbled at you, "Oh, baby girl, hello!", you cooed, pulling her into your arms.

"Soon enough you can get one of those, I bet your kid would be very very cute", Riccardo nudged Charles' shoulder, loving that the group now could have a few teasing moments and themes at your expense, all in good fun.

"What a warm welcome!", you heard your brother yell, a fake angry and ironic tone noticeable in his voice, "First, no one is here to greet me with a glass of something to drink or even a helping hand to step in", Joris clarified, "then I'm presented with a conversation about my sister's and my best friends sex life, which I don't want to know about by the way!!", he said as he came up to you, kissing the side of your head, "I'm happy she's happy, and that you're all happy together, but no talking about that, please!".

[avidfics]

Chasing you

Summary: You’ve been on the run from Carol after sending a drunk voicemail. A month later, Carol has found you and doesn’t plan to let you go.

A/N: Came out of a writing hiatus cause I love this woman. There’s not enough carol x reader fics on this app and she gives me the warm fuzzies. Comments and reshares are appreciated :)

Warnings: Pretty PG-13, playful teasing, fluff, some tears, few misspellings, mentions some characters from The Marvels

Three things were painfully obvious as you woke up. This wasn’t your bed. These weren’t your clothes. The “Space Girls Do It Better” sleeveless crop top didn’t belong to you. 

Oh, and there was a fluffy, orange flerken licking its genitals ontop of your chest. A pretty deep cleaning by the looks of it.

“Um.” your voice croaked, the result of a long nap. “Mr. Flerken sir, I’m going to move you and place you on the floor-” Three tentacles shoot out from the confines of its mouth, wraps around a nearby metal dresser, and swallow it whole.

An audible nervous gulp can be heard from your throat. “New plan. Leave when it pleases you.” 

Armed with the killer fluffball, you creep along the cramped halls of the spaceship and take in the colorful murals that are painted inconsistently through the halls. One reads vaguely familiar, “New Jersey.” 

What’s a New Jersey?

In the back of your mind you have a nagging suspicion of the identity of the owner of the ship. But if you were right, then that would be a bigger problem than someone undressing you while you were unconscious. 

You enter the main pilot room as a childlike scream jars both you and the flerken. 

Kamala Khan’s wide eyed, all teeth smile shines from across the room. “OMG you’re awake!”

“God, no.” you groan. You plead to the heavens that this is all just a stress conjured dream even as the teenager morphs a hard light disk to propel her forward to tackle you into a warm hug. “Kamala, please tell me you're the owner of this ship and you’ve gotten your spaceship driver’s license early?

Her lips curve. “Sure.”

A relieved sigh depletes from your body.

“Sure, I missed you. But this is Carol’s ship. After you left she’s been tracking you for the past few weeks. We got an alert that you were involved in a bar brawl on the planet Aladna yesterday. When she found you, you were already beaten unconscious and bleeding from the attack. Carol scooped you up and took care of your injuries in the med bay.” Her signature dopey smile returns. “She nearly blasted the whole bar apart when she found you. It was epic.” she sighs with a faraway look.

Her smile wouldn’t be so bright if she knew you had no interest in being on the same planet yet alone on a small ship with her honored captain. Your frantic eyes start to scan every nook and cranny of the room. As if Carol would materialize from the launch keys at any moment. You drag Kamala to the control panel and start to hit buttons at random. “No, none of this is epic. Kamala, afraid we need to cut this reunion short. Drop me off at the nearest planet or station. Shoot, give me a space jumpsuit and I’ll simply float outside in outerspace. But I Can Not. Be. Here.” 

Kamala gives a sly look at how you’re acting. “Carol said you’d try to jump ship once you woke up.” she smiles as she pets the flerken still in your arms. “Something about you being embarrassed over something moronic.” 

And there it was. Until now there was a slim grasp of hope that Carol hadn’t known what you did but this just confirmed not only did she know but she wasn’t going to let it go. Goody. No way would you tell the whole story of how you’d gone out drinking with some Skrull girls because Carol was driving you crazy in her freaking halter tops. Then you found out she was married to a prince! Sure, it was only a political marriage but still the revelation made you want to punch something or someone. So drunk out of your mind, you left the most pathetic voicemail of all time sounding like a teenager with a crush. Talking about how she attracts you more than the rules of gravity. What was that! The voicemail ended with your declaration to take the prince of Aladna in a fight if that’s what it took to get her attention.

In your defense, she does like to fight. So you did punch someone…or several someones at the bar.

“It’s nothing.” you blink away the memory. “Carol didn’t have any right to kidnap me off the planet”

“Aren’t you a little old to be “kidnaped?” the dreaded voice calls out from behind you both.

You whip your head around, guilt written all over your face even as your jaw slackens at the hottest, yet fatigued, space hero in the galaxy. 

But at the moment Captain Marvel just looked like Carol. A half smile gracing her lips even as she leans against the entrance. Bare arms out, another damn crop top that barely covers her belly button, and an empty space of tantalizing skin at her stomach before the top half of her supersuit hangs limp at her hips. 

It was giving off duty lesbian about to repair an engine and it was making you absolutely feral. 

Which is why you held the flerken outstretched in her direction.

“Not another step, Danvers.” you warn. “This flerkin here has taken a liking to me and isn’t afraid to defend me.”

Carol tilts her head and her full teasing smile tasks force, causing a full quiver in your heart.

Taking slow, meticulous steps toward you, not caring about the fur-covered danger dangling from your hands. “You’ve taken a liking to my pet, sweetheart?” 

A spurtle of incoherent nonsense leaves your mouth. “It found me when I woke up. I even named him Ginger.”

“Real creative.” her deadpan sarcasm does not go unnoticed. “Put Goose down before he decides to eat you.” You get ready to fight the command but ‘Goose’ does a loud meow and you decide that’s him agreeing with his apparent owner. 

Her eyes flicker to the noisy teenager next to you. “Kamala, go find another wall to destroy.”

“Aye aye, captain.” You make a desperate attempt to grab Kamala but the small betrayer just mouths “You’re in trouble.” before prancing away. 

With Kamela’s exit the room is too quiet and the once spacious room feels tiny and empty, leaving only the bruising reminder of why you’ve avoided Carol for weeks. Sure, your friend can fly, shoot rays of energy from her fist, and literally crush you with her bare hands but none of that ever scared you. It wasn’t your physical body you were afraid she would break, but the fragile, sensitive heart you always protected. But then there was Carol with her small, gentle smile and her laughing eyes and a warm presence that made you want to be soft instead of sharp with pointy edges.

Under Carol’s gaze you were a giant raw wound that was left open and too exposed. You just knew Carol could see it. 

Which is why getting off this ship was imperative. With a new, hardened resolve you turn around and commerce pressing every button in sight.

“You trying to order a pizza? Because there’s an easier way than having us crash into the nearest asteroid.”  The pull of her voice is so strong after weeks of zero contact but you ignore it nonetheless. Not that it deters Carol. “But maybe your bad driving is a result of getting your ass whooped down on Aladna.”

She’s baiting you. Do not give in.

“I mean the fact that you got your butt handed to you by a group of people who normally only fight in song has to make you mad, right?” The silence in response finally gets to her as she stomps up to the dashboard controls and undos every button you’ve pushed in concession. Each time she reaches for a button near yours, fingers a centimeter from touching, you yank away and take a step away. She grunts in return and counters with another step closer. 

Her next jap finally hits her mark with stinging precision. “Maybe next time you should ask the Prince for backup.”

A response fires out your mouth even as you slam your hand against a particular shiny button. “I had it handled, okay? That pretty boy prince might’ve impressed you somehow but his presence in a fight is as needed as yours is to me right now.” The lie turned your stomach and made you feel like Goose’s shit. “You had no right and no reason to take me off that damn planet because I had it covered. Just drop me off at the nearest planet.”

Carol could smell the lie a mile away. The words bounced off her chest. If anything she was trying to hide her arrogant grin at successfully getting your undivided attention, knowing it would make you more pissed. Which was always an adorable sight.

When her sources flagged a sighting of you on Aladna she’d left the spaceship at supersonic speed to reach you after hunting your trail down for the past month. 

At first, friendship was all she needed. But time spent together on various missions gave her deeper understanding on how darn sweet you were despite scratching at anyone who tried to get close. 

But once she clicked play on that cute, yet slightly violent, voicemail any vague restraints of being only friends were dashed. Now here you were, her prickly kitten, and she wasn’t going to be deterred by any of your rounded jabs. 

Now here you stood. Causing internal issues to her ship's mainframe. Slight bruises marring your delicate skin. All reminders that you’d rather be dropped in outer space than occupy the same room with her. Well tough luck. Patience was never her strongsuit. 

A blur out of the corner of your eye was the only warning before the sudden warm body surrounded you from behind. Two unyielding hands grasped yours in an attempt to halt any further error messages from appearing on the dashboard. “Are you not satisfied with my ship, sweetheart? Because you’re awfully determined to break it.” In another determined step she removes any space separating you two until her front is flushed against your back. Tense doesn’t begin to describe how rigid your body gets as you realize, to your detriment, she’s forgone a bra. Even the tiniest move from her causes her soft, malleable breast to move against your back. Your knees buckle even as you silently curse Carol for completely smashing the boundaries of your personal bubble. 

Warm fingers grasp each of your hands and her thumbs caress circles on each hand that shoots straight to your flamed core. A whisper of her lips speaks into your ear, tingling all the way into your spine. “Six. There’s six bruises across your delicate body from that stupid fight. But you didn’t need me, huh?”

The touch and slight reprimand in her voice makes your body shiver. “T-that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” You peek behind to see her face as her fingers gently travel down your arm. Brows furrowed with an intense glare as she inspects your minor injuries in detail. “But that’s what you said, no?” 

In an effort to clutch the last remaining shreds of your pride you squint up at her but end up lowering your glare. “Even if you helped me, that didn’t give you the right to take me off the planet.” you murmur. “And who changed my clothes!” 

The gentle hand remains on your arm but the dark look is dashed away, replaced with a serene smile. “Obviously that was me. Like I would allow anyone else to get a peek at what’s mine.” she snorts. As if the idea was simply absurd. 

All fight leaves your body at the new startling news that Carol, your Carol, just called you hers PLUS  she’s seen you naked? 

You gear up to start a rant but two arms twirl you around and hefts you up. Your legs and arms cling to her even as you yell at her to set you down.

Bullheaded Carol ignores you and instead leisurely walks to her pilot seat. As if this was just a normal Tuesday. When she plops in the driver seat, she settles your weight to straddle her hips. Immediately, you try to scramble away but she wraps her arms around you in a metal vise. That damn innocent smile returns. “The chast act ends now. Because I was prepared to let you go but then you left me this.” It’s like a slow motion car accident as she pulls her cell from her pocket and the dreadful voicemail is played at full volume. 

Renewed vigor allows you to break out of her arms but you're too slow as one hand holds you in place on her lap. Making you listen to your drunk declaration of love.

The tears come as you're forced to helplessly listen, already anticipating the mockery that was soon to come, except Carol didn’t laugh. Instead, you felt soft, slow kisses press against your wet check, trailing your tears.

Carol nuzzling your neck is the only thing stopping your crying as you realize she wasn’t laughing. Her tired smile and fatigued smile returns. “You're so dramatic, kitten. Don’t ask me what “right” I have to kidnap you and bring you on our ship after you left a message like this for me. 

Sensing you were no longer a flight risk, her hard grip releases your wrists. Instead, she traces your face, rubbing away your tear trails. “For now on, you're coming back and helping our missions, warming my bed, and if you start anymore bar fights you better finish them or have your girlfriend there to finish the job for you.”

For the first time in a month, a genuine smile graces your face. Brave enough to fully settle your weight on Carol’s lap, you grasp the nap of her neck to angle her lips for a kiss. When your lips finally connect a deep, dragged out moan leaves Carol’s mouth. Her hands slide up your thighs and squeeze your ass. “Don't run away again.” she warns.

“Aye aye Captain.”

[space-station-nursery]

◜ ❗𓂃 Space Station Reports ‧ ❕ ◞

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DO NOT INTERACT WITH @KODASWRLD

now that that's out of the way, we will be discussing NSFW briefly in this post, please make sure you are reading when in a safe mindset. All moots will be tagged at the end for further reach, i apologize to anyone i ping who does not like to be pinged[/g] however this is a serious topic to me and i want this to reach as far as possible

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Beforehand:

Hello kiddos, this is a more in-depth report from the one we made [here] about the up and growing agere creator Kodaswrld. I found their[i cant remember their pronouns rn] blog a few months ago, and absolutely fell in love. I loved their dividers, their text posts, and all the freestyling on their blog!

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September:

On september 10th, 2024, we created a post called "Agere Backpack ideas"! The next day [Sep 11th, 24], while scrolling through a creator i also thoroughly enjoy, i saw a post they had reblogged.... It was our backpack ideas, but it wasnt written by me... in fact, it was re-uploaded by someone who i thought created interesting content. I commented under the original post to take it down as we did not consent to our work getting re-uploaded. They deleted our comment. A few days later after fd calmed me from my panic attack, we sent an ask to take down our post as we did not consent to our content being reposted. At the start of our blog, i did have "do not rewrite" on our blog, however because nothing ever happened, i took it away when we changed into the space station nursery. They deleted our ask. a week or more later [unfortunately i dont remember at this point anymore] They closed asks under the guise of "getting hate"

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Current:

After everything happened, fd scoured around to create a blacklist. At this time, i had finally calmed down, and was ready to blacklist. Before we got to it tho, i saw a post created by another agere creator in which Koda had stolen from. This creator asks that all followers or people interacting report if their content was being reposted, as koda had taken one of their posts, and it got SIGNIFICANTLY more notes, as well as Koda copying their DNI banner, just changing the font and small images on the side:

Original post that Koda stole, at the time, post had at max 200 notes, minimum 150. OP name and pfp covered for privacy

Copied post made by Koda. Notice the amount of notes it has [if you check] 740 notes

---

This is not the only instance of this happening with Koda, and no "but they add credits" is not a viable defense here. We did not tell them they could do this, and they did not ask, by the looks of all posts, they didnt ask ANYONE to use their posts. The little credits at the bottom is also hard to see, especially by those who are visually impaired. I had an almost blind friend check out their post, and that friend couldnt even see the credits without us zooming in and circling it for the friend to see. Thats a problem. And people who see it but dont think much of it [like me] will not click the credits. I didnt. and i apologize to those whom i contributed to as apart of the problem

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So what else needs to be discussed?

Well, before we get to the NSFW they interact with, lets go with the tracing and stealing. Thank you to the person that sent us this [will not name for the safey of the individual but they are free to comment and let you guys know! They sent a non anonymous ask but still, yknow?]

So-.... Proof?

This is a screenshot sent to us that shows a user by the name of @/b4bybear_ , crediting their BF and CG @/SEABUNE for creating an image we all know and love, and have MOST LIKELY SEEN amongst agere intros [all blue markings have been made by me]

As you can see in the second image, the user is written on the bottom, exactly how its written on the twitter post. This image is widely available, and many many individuals use it..... However, Koda didnt seem to care

As you can see, Koda NOT ONLY traced, changed a singular item, and erased the original creators credits, they then wrote their own name on the bottom and claimed this post as their own. And no, changing one thing on an art post while still tracing everything else is not "creating your own content" or "taking inspo" This is blatant copying. This is further than just stealing text posts, they are stealing

ART from other sources [nsfw below]

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And now, the NSFW....

Kodaswrld does have their following open, meaning that littles, middles, and anyone visiting their blog can see who they interact with. These are some of the blogs they currently follow, and content they post/reblog:

@/slvttyfied

@/firstladyofjuicycouture12

Whilst being 18+, there is nothing wrong with interacting and following NSFW content and blogs. However if you are running a blog with a minor following [not small amount of people, minors. people 17 and under] you should not have your follows seen if you are interacting with this kind of content. Minors are curious, and you are exposing them to things they do not yet need to see or know about. Especially when kinks/hard kinds are involved. I am 21 and fd is 22. We will NEVER, allow nsfw blogs or rebloggers to interact with our content

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Final thoughts:

Through our mini blacklist, we have found out that koda knows what they are doing, and are actively avoiding discussing it. We also learned that they ship real people [called rps or "real people shipping"], and for having almost 800 followers, do not deserve it. Please, spread this far and wide, show your friends, you moots, reblog it even if it doesnt fit your aesthetic. This person NEEDS to be stopped.

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Our moots: @oftlunarialmoon @nostalgic-woodwind , @zimswife , @deesblanketfort , @angel-bunnie @aprilsmabelmaple , @diaryofalittlestar , @h3ll0everybby1 , @xx-raines-space-kindergarten-xx [hi raaaaine]

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Rec List 2023 #4

Hello! This is the last list of 2023! These are the wonderful fics I ended my year with! I hope you enjoy them! If anyone would like to be removed from this list; please let me know! As always each of these fics has its own content warnings, and most, if not all are 18+ so Minors Do Not Interact!

Seokjin

daydream @joonie-beanie

summary: Your literature professor has a bit of a…gift. A gift that let’s him see other peoples thoughts when he wants to. And despite the fact that he warns his class openly about this gift, one day you forget, and find yourself in a bit of pickle when Kim Seokjin reads your mind, and finds you imagining some not so school appropriate scenarios…involving him.

pink panther @gimmesumsuga

summary: The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are

9 months to fall in love @floralseokjin

summary: It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in. Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it. Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

dream come true @sugaurora

summary: Since your brother had warned you years ago that his best friend Seokjin was off limits, you’d only allowed yourself to safely fantasize about him in your dreams. You’re not sure why tonight his lips feel so much softer and his hands so much warmer than usual, but you’re also not about to complain.

whole @yoongiphoria

Yoongi

can't afford love @dollfaceksj

summary: Your childhood dream of having 2 children in a big house with a blooming marriage by this point in time has been eliminated the moment divorce came knocking at your door. With only one child and finding yourself back at square one, you ask your ex-husband—Min Yoongi—if he’d be down to fulfill 1 of these 3 things on your childhood’s bucket-list. And no, it’s not giving you a big house.

u suck !! @kithtaehyung

summary: Jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume.

three tangerines ^

summary: throughout high school, you sometimes caught glimpses of your brother’s older friends: some of them were sweet, some of them were smart. but the one closest to him? that guy was a total f*ckboy from day one. after a foray of horrid relationships spanning years - ending with one that broke up with you for an alarming reason - you needed advice on what the hell you were doing wrong… and this wasn’t a conversation for anyone sweet or smart.

broken pt. 1 ^

summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell.

ghostface killers @gimmethatagustd

summary: You’ve had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn’t know is that he’s had his eyes on you, too.

red & white @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: you and yoongi have something to share this holiday

Hoseok

spookie coochie @gimmethatagustd

summary: The only monster Hoseok wishes you were interested in finding this Halloween season is his monster c–

drink champagne in my airplane @bangtanintotheroom

summary: Your friend Hoseok decided to use his excessive wealth for good and take the both of you on a much-needed vacation. The flight was meant to be relaxing until he broke out one of his most expensive bottles of champagne.

a holly, jolly crisis @kpopfanfictrash

summary: At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

12 lays of christmas @minisugakoobies

summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies 

it's a promise @sahmfanficbts

arranged marriage au

Namjoon

close, closer, closest @augustbutwinter

summary: you know your soulmate is close, but you haven’t met them yet. every day your counter goes up when you pass that one station. until one day it doesn’t.

make an effort @7ndipity

summary: When you ask Joon to be your fake boyfriend, he ends up finding out about your very real crush on him. Luckily for you, the feeling’s mutual.

a word from our sponsors @ugh-yoongi

summary: you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

Jimin

cloud nine @suga-kookiemonster

summary: “he’s here again,” viv whispers. “you know who. the hot guy who’s totally into you.” and he is hot--devastatingly hot enough that you know he can’t actually be into you, because the universe simply doesn’t work that way. that still doesn’t stop your heart from pounding when he smiles at you from across the room.

menace @eoieopda

summary: Far and away the worst of your brother’s friends, you added Park Jimin’s presence in your life to the long list of grievances you held against Seokjin. Too bad you can’t keep your hands off him.

crescent bound @parkhabits

summary: One night you’re having the best hookup of your life and the next you’re being told that the little mark on your neck is more than just a hickey and that Park Jimin was more than you expected too.

the dark side of the moon @dovechim

summary: falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes. 

a remedy for mondays ^

summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

heavy petting @kittae

summary: Your boyfriend is not just a cat hybrid, he’s also very needy! When you come home from work and you expect him to be all over you, you’re fairly disappointed to find he prefers a nap over some well-deserved quality time. You’ll make sure to pay him back for that.

the devil in his details @johobi

summary: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it’s a 5′8″ pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you’re the form you want him to come in.

me, you, and this thing we have between us @boymeetsweevil

summary: You’re pregnant and jimin is…happy about it

devil's advocate @7cypher

summary: You had met the devil on a hot summer day. He had shown up in a red polo, red cap, and white sneakers on his feet. That day, you had invited your devil into your home and he hasn’t left since.

no strings @kpopfanfictrash

summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

the ten days of ex-mas @kpopfanfictrash

summary: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling. Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Taehyung

midnight @sailoryooons

summary: Taehyung loves being your prince charming, even if it means trying to find where you’ve wandered off to in the middle of a Halloween party without your shoes. 

the holi-date @kpopfanfictrash

summary: When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning.

of lace and lust @hobidreams

summary: friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.

hush @suga-kookiemonster

summary: four seats, five bodies. “careful, sweetheart,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, hands tightening over your waist in warning. you lick your lips, pausing just long enough to ponder: what if you don’t want to be careful?

rotten angelcake @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

sausade @kimvvantae

summary: no one is born to be alone and no one can be complete in oneself - that’s why, in this world, every person has a pair, someone that complements their soul in every aspect. you, however, are an exception to the rule, for the mark on your wrist indicates that your pair has passed away way before you were born.

kinda hot @kimnjss

summary: you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

Jungkook

jungkook drabble @euphoricfilter

summary: obsessed gf m/c and equally as obsessed boyfriend jungkook. he’s the light of her life, and she’s the reason he smiles

blessed with a curse @sweetestofchaos

summary: When your company throws a mandatory Halloween party, you aren’t thrilled. You’re even less thrilled when a delusional coworker ruins the party and places a curse on everyone because her crush, the resident werewolf, Jeon Jungkook, rejected them.

seasons don't fear the reaper @augustbutwinter

summary: life is short, they say. one day everyone meets their death, they say. how often can you meet yours before he takes you with him?

because i love you ch. 13 @readyplayerhobi

summary: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

a holiday snowdown @kpopfanfictrash

summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that's what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents' idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. What's the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again.

all grown up @btsgotjams27

summary: A family reunion brings back the young boy you grew up with. Though he wasn’t the doe-eyed boy you once knew, he stood in front of you all grown up.

this is us ^

summary: you start to fall hard for jungkook.

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror ch. 2 @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

the gentlemen @honeymoonjin

summary: Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

of storms and vampires @wishesunderthestars

summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn’t simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook’s sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

oh, little red @jincherie

summary: You knew they warned you about that path for a reason, you knew you shouldn’t take it as a shortcut. You knew, but you were running late, and you did it anyway. Oh, little red, just what have you gotten yourself into?

Ateez

Seonghwa

let me keep you warm @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: “Are you cold?” “A little bit but I’ll be okay.” “Come here, let’s get you all warmed up.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling a (now ex-) mutual a stingy asshole?

So to start, I (NB20) am in a pretty rough situation, I'm facing homelessness soon, transphobia at home and work and my hours have been getting cut resulting in me making even less money that can sustain me. I have a toyhou.se forum post up stating I have emergency commissions open to help me out and to please support me if you can. This is where the situation begins. I have a mutual on toyhou.se who I'll call Apple (MTF22) I talk to sometimes to the point I'd say we are friends, not super close but friends nonetheless. She made a bulletin telling people about my commissions and to please comm me if they could which I'm very grateful for since I did get a few customers from her because of that. The thing is, a few weeks later, she made a bulletin talking about how happy she was so many commissions she bought were finished around the same time and posted all of them with the artists tagged in the post. It was honestly... quite a few, I'm talking like 9 pieces of art of her fursona and even a custom vtuber model she got of her sona. I was going to reply all happy for her, but it made me think... how much did she spend on those commissions?? So I went through all the artists socials to find their commission prices and came to a total of fucking $385!!! More than half of my current goal I'm trying to make through commissions to stay out of homelessness!! So I messaged Apple saying since I saw she bought a few commissions if she was interested in buying a comm from me. She replies saying "Ohh! I'd love to <333 but im just not in a place to buy any more comms right now :< sorry >.<!!" So I casually reply really? because it seems like your in the perfect place to help me out after already spending over $300 in commissions. She tells me she's sorry and really wishes someone would be able to help me out but she just wasn't that interested in my art or a custom to which I tell her she could've easily donated to my ko-fi which I have always had since she clearly has money to spend? To this, she straight up IP blocks me. So still fucking annoyed, I vented in a discord server I share with a few friends from being in a few shared CS together, saying how annoying it is rich assholes like her would drop half a thousand for a picture of their fursona but don't even blink twice at their so called friends. anyway, one of my friends takes a look at Apples th profile and notices she has a new bulletin up and sends me a screenshot, but anways the bulletin reads like "hey!! just saying, but please dont come into my dms acting like you know my financial situation better than i do, just because i buy a lot of commissions doesnt mean im made of money! and please dont think that me commisioning artist 1 means i hate artist 2? thats so weird, thanks!!!!!" and seeing all their subscribers just kissing her ass pissed me off so i made my own bulletin that just stated "i thought it was pretty fucking weird to know how bad ur friend's situation was and to go buy a bunch of comms instead of buying a comm from or even throwing a buck to help me out? like yeah im gonna think i know ur situation better than u, you stingy fuck!!!" Anyway, she mustve been block evading (which I reported her for) since she unblocked me, took a screenshot of my bulletin, then went on about how she lived in an abusive household; her dad had thrown her into a sink and chipped her tooth, bruised half her face and scarred it pretty badly. She bought a bunch of commissions immediately afterwards in a panic to make herself feel better, paying everything with her savings. Which to me.. isn't an excuse. Ive been hit and abused and still found scraps of money to pull together to give to mutuals who need it and Ive been bumping my own post like crazy and she had literal weeks to donate or comm me. Not to mention Ive had exmutuals of hers come to me saying that shes never donated anything to them either despite advertising their posts but always had money for plushies, comms and other crap, meaning Im not alone in thinking shes a stingy asshole. This is getting long, so here, tumblr AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[ches-fallen-from-heaven]

Sweets ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The coat

(Credits to @azriel.kk on tiktok! She convinced me to finally feed you guys another chapter after a month!!! Luv ya! Please draw nanami tied up and naked for me <33)

Pairing: Soft Yandere Nanami x fem! Bakery owner! Reader

Summary: Nanami just wanted to see what all the popularity about that one bakery in town was. He didn’t know he’d fall so hard for the girl who looks just as sweet as the cakes she bakes.

Tags: Yandere Nanami, Kind of coquette reader, no-filter reader, Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsessive/Toxic Nanami, Manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome, murder.

Wc: 2.3k

For the past few weeks Nanami walked you to your shop. Then he picked you up at night to walk you home. You looked forward to seeing Nanami every day. His majestic face, his eyes, and most importantly the small things he does. He’s such a gentleman. From giving you his coat, to gently moving the hair out of your face. He was every girl’s dream. The wary feeling you got from somebody watching you disappeared when Nanami was there. But when he wasn’t you could sometimes still feel eyes watching you. It gave you chills and made you freeze up. Nanami always comforted you, telling you it might just be nothing.

Sometimes on weekends if he was free, he would help you bake. Helping around the shop, like opening doors for people or serving tables. You put him outside to get more customers. Seeing how girls go inside after seeing him. You know that he knows what you’re doing. But you just give him a grin. But you’re thankful for him, not just for helping out but keeping you safe. Those men who would stare at you or send you terrifying smirks with intent all go away because of him. Just seeing his glare, they would look away cowardly.

You would text him in the middle of the day too. Either just asking how work is going or telling him something interesting about your day.  He would reply so quickly, unlike the men you were with before. But something that always bothered you is his job. He would say he’s a salaryman, but it never seemed like him. Or maybe you’re just assuming! I mean its Nanami. He’s all that you could ever want.

Your day went on like normal. Baking cakes, serving customers, and helping your employees overall. You also went outside, greeting the tabby cat. It always comes over at this exact time in the afternoon. You and Nanami even baked catnip treats for it. A thought occurred in your head as you mumbled feeding the cat, "Am I making you a druggie with this much catnip?" You sighed, rubbing its head softly. You and Nanami will have to come up with a name for it soon.

You snapped a picture of your hand petting the cat. You sent it to Nanami with a video of you feeding the cat.  “Wish I could take you home.” You mumbled. After giving the cat its drugs- Snacks you walked back inside helping serve your customers. A few minutes later your phone buzzed, someone texted you. Thinking its Nanami, you opened the text message. Your frowned seeing it was from an unknown number. The text read; “You look so pretty…”  and a picture of you petting the cat.

You shivered immediately blocking the number. You were definitely telling Nanami about this later. As the day passed, you were able to block what just happened and busied yourself. As you closed the bakery Nanami stood outside waiting for you with a smile. You walked up to him hugging him.

He spoke up, “Y/n, how was your day?” he asked as he carried your bag for you. You talked about the normal, from helping customers to baking more cakes. He listened intently nodding along. That was until you started talking about the text message.  “What’s even creepier Nanami, is he sent a picture of me!” you complained your hands doing weird gestures. You looked at him as his face didn’t hold any expression. You waved your hands around his face getting his attention. “Nanami? Hello?” he looked at you for a few seconds before speaking. “You should stay with me. For your own safety.” He said flatly.

Your eyes widen. “Wait! I-I would love too but I can’t just move out like that Nanami!” he looked at you, brows furrowed. “You’d rather just stay in danger huh.” He says with somewhat an annoyed tone.  You shook your head with a sigh, as you saw your house in the distance. “I would love to Nanami, but are we even dating yet? Plus, we haven’t known each other that long!” As you arrived in front of your house, you looked at Nanami giving him a hug. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.” He says hugging you back, burying his face in your hair. As you broke the hug, Nanami gave you a cat stuff toy. “It reminded me of you.” he says smiling softly. You kissed him on the cheek giving him another hug. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ll put it in bed with me!” you say grinning as you went inside, waving him goodbye.

As Nanami walked back home, he sat on his desk. His hands rubbing his temples tiredly. He grew frustrated with the thought that creepy text of his would work. Maybe he just needed to be more persistent and send you more texts? He sighed opening his laptop. A smile grew on his face as he opened the camera in the stuff toy. In his perspective you were putting in down on the desk. He drank his whiskey watching as you undressed.

You were driving him crazy. He wanted you all to himself. The world didn’t deserve you! the world filled with curses and horrible people. He would keep you safe. No matter what it takes. Even if its by the methods you don’t like. You’re his girl. He continued watching you through the camera, as you didn’t sleep but continued to stay awake on your phone. He wished he was there to stop you.

He wondered about your comment earlier, “Are we even dating?”  it was such a silly thing to ask. “I’ll ask her tomorrow…” He said as he continued sipping his whiskey while watching you.

As morning came, Nanami picked you up like always. But this time, he was holding flowers. The ones that you love. “Nanami, these are beautiful. What’s the occasion?” you ask looking at it happily. “You asked me yesterday if we were even dating. And I want to ask you, would you like to be mine?” You smiled grinning. “I would love too.” You say walking over to him and kissing him.

Nanami swears at that moment his heart stopped. The world slowed down for him. He hated how short that kiss was. “I should put these flowers inside.” You say holding his hand. “Come in with me?” you ask smiling happily. A tint of red on your cheeks.

Nanami nodded a small smile on his face. A smile for the kiss, and a smile at the opportunity. His other hand went into his pocket as he held a small black camera. He stuck it at your doorframe, as it blended in like a speck of dirt. Quickly and swiftly he smiled. You let go of his hand as you went to get a vase. He stood on the doorway watching you. “Can I use the bathroom?” he asked. You nodded pointing and saying the directions.

He nodded walking in your hallways, adding the cameras around wherever he could. Your hallways, your, bathroom, your guest bedroom. But he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just keeping you safe. As he walked back to your kitchen, the flowers were already in a vase. It decorated your counter really well. You grinned at Nanami happily. “You know, we have to go or else I’ll be late in opening the bakery.” You say holding his hand. He nodded, “Lets go.” He said helping you lock up your house.

The routine with Nanami continued for the next few weeks. But he made Friday night the date night you guys have. The only thing that was driving you crazy was the constant text messages you were getting from an unknown number. It scared you so much to the point that you were always near someone in your staff or serving tables. But still, someone would take pictures of you from outside your bakery window or whenever you were alone. But this time, the stalker sent a picture of you with your employee. It scared you for their safety. So much so that you called Nanami crying.

He picked up immediately, being there by your side in less than 5 minutes. Which was weird since he always took at least 15 minutes to get to you. Maybe he was near, or maybe he ran. You hugged him tightly crying into his arms. “Why is this happening to me Nanami!” you say sniffling. He wiped away your tears, hugging you again. “Stay with me. It’s not safe for you y/n. I’ll keep you safe, it’ll be just us. I’ll always protect you.”

You wiped away your tears, shaking your head. “I don’t know… I’ll think about it.” You say sighing. Nanami watched you intently. He was getting through you, but not fast enough. His lips purse into a thin line as he handed you a water bottle. “Thank you. Thank you for everything Nanami, staying by my side and not leaving me.” You say hugging him tightly. He put his coat on your shoulders and kissed your forehead.

He checked his watch before sighing. “I need to go back to work, I might not pick you up tonight. I need to do something overtime at work. Don’t sleep around 3am again. ” He said walking you back inside your bakery first before he left. How did he know you slept around 3am? Red flags and alarm bells rang in your mind. You should really talk to him about it. It’s bad to ignore red flags like that.

“Life sucks ass.” You mumbled sighing. The time passed and before you knew it, it was already night. You wore Nanami’s coat the whole day, not wanting to let it go. Checking the time, it was already around 7:30 PM. As you locked up, you had a thought.

“Why not go to Nanami’s house and hand him his coat as well as see where he lives? Since he wants you to move in so badly.”  

You grinned at the thought. Two birds with one stone. Getting to see Nanami and seeing where he lives. You picked up your phone calling him. It rang for a few seconds before someone picked up, but it wasn’t Nanami. The person sounded somewhat cheery.

“Hello? Who’s this? Is it Nanamins girlfriend?!”  he said excitedly. “Uhm, who’s this?” you asked warily.

“Well, it’s just the one and only Gojo Satoru! Nanamin’s co-worker!”  he said as he… giggled? What kind of grown man giggles like that. “Oh. Well can I please talk to Nanami?”  you say voice clearly blank and bored of him.

He let out a choked-up sound before responding, “he already went home, he left his phone by accident. Say! How about we meet up-“  you cut him off. “Can I have his home address?” you ask wanting the conversation to end.

He let out an offended gasp, before giving up and saying Nanami’s address. But not before mumbling, ‘maybe its because she can’t see my face…”  you sighed in relief as you had his address, and the conversation with Gojo finally ended. With some strawberry shortcake in hand, you proceeded to walk to Nanami’s place.

It was fairly far from your bakery. At least a 20-minute walk. Nevertheless, more cardio for you. As you arrived, you nervously rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. You looked at the door seeing it was partially cracked open. Why didn’t you see that before? You shook your head hell no before turning back. You weren’t about to be killed like some what girl in a horror movie.

As you turned around you flinched seeing Nanami. “Oh my God! You almost gave me a heart attack.” You say hand on your chest. “Why are you here? Especially at this hour.” He asked softly. “I wanted to bring you your coat, and to see you.” you say smiling. “Can’t last a day without me huh?” He asked chuckling. You shook your head laughing. “Your door was open, but it was dark and you didn’t answer the doorbell. So, I was about to leave.” You say pointing at the door.

“Yeah, I left my phone at my office. I had to come back and get it, seems like I forgot to lock my door.” He answered. “Let’s talk inside?” He asked holding your hand as you let him pull you along. “How did you get my address?” he asked pulling out a chair for you in his kitchen. “Oh! I called you and this guy named Gojo picked up!” you say unwrapping the cake. “I bought you strawberry shortcake by the way.”

Nanami stared at you for a few seconds, before speaking. “What else did Gojo say to you?” he asked his voice monotone. Your brows furrowed. “Something about him being your co-worker, and other than that I spaced out. He seems cocky and hyper.”

You swallowed feeling nervous for some reason. Nanami nods before sighing looking out the window. It was raining heavily. “How about some tea?” He asked. “ooo that paired with strawberry shortcake sounds heavenly.” You say grinning.

“May I use your bathroom first though?” you ask. Nanami nodded pointing down a hallway and telling you to take a right. You nodded following as he instructed. As you arrived at that hallway there was two doors. You opened the first one you saw thinking nothing of it.

Your eyes widen as your breath hitched. It was an office. An office with a huge board behind the desk, full of pictures of you. The laptop on the desk was open. With shaky strides you went behind the desk and looked at the laptop screen. It was your house. Your bedroom, your hallway, your bathroom. Your eyes narrowed seeing the perspective of one of the cameras. It was the exact same place you put the stuff toy Nanami gave you.

Your hands were shaking at this point. This was how he knew details of your life you never told him. You looked at the board behind you. Your mind raced as you tried to control your breathing. Panicking won’t do you any good. Your eyes narrowed at the pictures stuck on the board. It was the same ones your stalker sent you.

Everything clicked at that moment. Everything was Nanami’s doing.

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 3|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: We're getting a bit more into the Yandere-ish side of things now, I think it's obvious this is going to be a shorter series than something like Break Me Slowly but I still hope you all enjoy! This will be the first smutty chapter so please please please read the warnings before continuing! Also if you're not listening to FNAF songs while reading what are you doing? I'm listening to Stuck Inside while writing this. But hey if anyone wants I'll make my FNAF playlist for this fic. Comment below to be added to the taglist <3)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William’s a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

So far everything had been going well, an independence had been suiting her well clearly. It had only been a week since William had found her an apartment of her own but she was thriving. The parents had apparently chewed her out, disowned her, and then left without any more of a fuss. Their move had gone on as planned, but just without their precious daughter. Just as well, the last thing he needed was them poking around, especially since she was college age and didn't need her parents bossing her around like a child. That was his job.

This work really suited her, she was great with kids, a quality that was extremely important to him. However William was more interested with how she would interact with their own children. Something he should probably get started on.

Originally his goal had only been to sleep with the newest employee, but if he was honest, he longed for a family of his own. Everything about Henry made him incredibly jealous, he wanted everything he had, and that included a wife and kids. Although he was realistic and knew he didn't have the time, with a business to run, how could he spend the time trying to find someone, and then dating, followed by the messiness of in-laws, weddings, and legality. The whole affair was a waste of money, surely shortcuts could be made.

Which is what brought her into his office that day.

============================================

"You needed me sir?" She peeks her head in the crack of the door, it was later in the day, it was the just the two of them left in the restaurant.

"Yes yes I did, come in and have a seat why don't you?"

She does as instructed, staring at him curiously.

"I'll cut right to the chase." He leans back in his chair, making his posture seem nonchalant and relaxed. "If I'm being brutally honest, while you're a great worker and an asset to the team your regular hours just don't cover the cost of your pay and your rent."

Worry flashes across her face. "What can I do to make up the rest? I can take on more hours-" She offers.

"No no, don't worry about that. I have better idea for you to make up for the extra."

"Oh right, just tell me and I'll do it."

She was too easy, all of this was too easy. Her friend wasn't kidding when she said she wasn't the smartest person. Better he was the one pushing her around rather than someone else he reasoned.

"Come here and I'll show you.."

============================================

Convincing her to suck his dick had been easy, all it took was telling her that this was common and that she shouldn't question it but also shouldn't tell anyone else about this. The little nymph took the no questions seriously and knelt in front of him, her eyes growing big at the size of him. William figured this was undoubtedly her first encounter with the opposite sex, which benefitted him greatly, the idea of teaching her how to please him and only him made his dick twitch in her eager mouth.

Her gag reflex was terrible, but that could be trained out of her. In his experience, just forcing her down to the base was the easiest way. She'd force her throat to relax or choke, he didn't care much either way. What mattered for him was his own satisfaction, how long it had been since had been with someone he couldn't remember, time was never on his side.

"Watch the teeth." He hissed, grabbing a fistful of hair and dragged her off of him. "Can't you open your jaw any wider?"

"I could try- it's just starting to get sore-"

William bit back a sarcastic retort, the last thing he wanted was to scare her off now after all the effort and money he had put into molding her into a perfect woman. "Don't worry about it, there will be time enough for that in the future." He forced a smile to his face, helping her to her feet. "Just bend over my desk for now."

Nervousness seeps into her expression. "What for-?"

"You don't think just that was enough to pay for your rent do you? Prices have gone up, everything's more expensive. Besides, I'll make it feel good for you."

She bends over the desk, her uniform pants unbuttoned and hastily pushed to the floor. Her panties were lacy, predictable, and pink like her perfect pussy.

A large grin spreads ear to ear on William's face, when was the last time he'd taken a woman's virginity? It had been too long. Way too long. This girl was fresh out of college and naïve to the world, any respectable man would think her consent was too dubious to proceed.

But William wasn't a respectable man.

His fingers slid up and down her folds, making her whole body twitch when he brushed over the clit. Her body was reacting to him, becoming wet with each touch, soon making everything glisten with arousal. Despite everything William was a nice enough man, and didn't want to hurt her too much that she'd refuse to do this again with him, so her comfort was important. He slowly stuck a finger inside her to see how wet she had become. The gasp was audible when he initially pushed it in, no doubt his fingers were bigger and thicker than hers so just this felt better than and pleasure she'd tried to give herself in the past.

A second finger was added, making her writhe and grasp the desk more firmly. She clamped down on his fingers hard, eager and hungry for something more than just his digits.

Who was he to deny her?

The initial contact made him shiver, it had been too long, how he had missed this feeling.

He made sure to take it slow, it would be painful at first, but she would get over it. Besides, even as he broke through her barrier her body continued to suck him in eagerly. She wanted this, all of her screamed with how much she wanted this.

William never really cared about protection, he always figured if a girl ended up pregnant it was their own fault, it couldn't be his, which is why he took no precautions before pounding into her. The pause between the initial stretch and his soon set pace was small, this was about urgency, in case that nosy prick Henry came snooping back around for anything. The last thing he needed was Henry warning the girl to stay away from him, all of this would have been for nothing.

His speedy pace made him climax quicker than normal, however he didn't bother to pull out, merely painting her insides with a smug smile of pride. She hadn't cum, but there was time for that, from the way she had moaned and gripped onto the wood for dear life he knew she enjoyed it.

When he was through with her he straightened his pants and tossed her the key. "When you're through be sure to lock up." With that he left her there, shutting the door behind him after taking another look at her ruined state.

===============================================

Their little arrangement went on for a few months, whispered moments of passion, hiding behind Henry's gaze so nothing would come in to question.

She was getting better at following what he wanted, catering to his whims and desires. Every day he looked forward to being with her, bringing her into his office and leaving the day fucked out of her mind and dripping. He was flying higher than he had ever been, everything was going his way and nothing could bring him down.

"William...? I don't know how to say this...I...I'm late-"

And things were just going to keep going up.

Tags:

============ @fandomreader

[citrustan]

for what it's worth [1/4] (jjk)

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff (this comes in a bit later), light smut, college student!reader x crush!jungkook

summary: you make an awful revelation about your crush of two years.

word count: 3k

warnings: none! except for the fact that this might read a teeny tiny bit creepy to some.

note: hello, here is me trying to give you this story before i scrap it because who knows? maybe some of you might not hate it! i need to edit it a little more but that happens later :) please tell me what you think! don't be silent! even if you think it's bad, i'd really love to know about it!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

“You know, this may sound delusional but I think he’s kind of into me,” you blush, hiding half of your blushing face behind your fingers. 

“Oh?” Jia smiles at you. 

“Yeah, I mean, I think so?” 

“What makes you say that?” Jia tilts her head, asking out of curiosity. 

“Well, during the whole ‘Antonio is homosexual’ discourse, he sided with me and he sat next to me for the third time this week--” you pause to take a sip out of your cranberry and lychee juice box, “And he drew in my journal. Roses and bunnies. There’s nothing he can’t do.”

Jia reached forward to play with your braided hair, “_____, is he, like, single?”

Anxiously biting at the paper straw that the café gave you, your response was immediate. 

“I think so. Nothing on his social media indicates that he’s, you know, not single. He barely posts!” you pout. “Jungkook’s so pretty, he could easily be a model. Super photogenic.”

“Hm, that’s true.” Jia bit her lip. “But what if he was dating someone? It would change things for you,” - “I mean, yeah sure, but I still think I want to confess when I have the chance to.” 

“Even if he wasn’t single? Isn’t that kind of an asshole move?” Jia snapped. 

Your eyes momentarily widen at her sudden outburst. What had gotten into her?

You grimace at her. “Um, yes. I wouldn’t-” you shrug, “if he has a girlfriend, I will not try anything, of course. But he doesn’t.”

Jia gave you a pointed look, “It was just hypothetical.”

“I know.” You frown.

It’s been a while since you first set your eyes on Jeon Jungkook. But never has the thought of him having a girlfriend ever crossed your mind. He just seemed like a solo rider. It felt safe to crush on him.

The first time you laid your eyes on Jungkook was at a mutual friend’s freshman mixer. You’d like to think you hit it off but couldn’t figure out how to proceed, with your schedules overlapping. Neither of you made the effort to switch around or make it work. So, you don’t feel too bad about it. You have never really crossed paths after that before he was out in the same class as you this semester. 

Most people know him as the secret weapon of the music theory and software development thingy departments. He’s easily the most beautiful man on campus and his smarts and personality somehow match up.

You’re pretty sure if this was some shitty, unoriginal, K-drama, he could be the perfect second lead who never gets the girl he wants.

Naturally, after the night of the mixer, you couldn’t help but garner a small, minuscule, almost insignificant crush on the man; which has grown astronomically since then.

You can’t seem to understand what made Jia even ask you something like that. Unless---

“Why would you ask me that out of nowhere? Have you heard otherwise?” You suddenly interrogate her, startling her. She visibly flinches.

“What? No.” You hear her scoff. “I just realised we never discussed it before, ever.” 

She laughed it off while you stared at her, unconvinced.

“I told you. Hypothetical.” She reminds you after taking note of your curious and somewhat frazzled state.

Jia was usually never interested in anything you had to say about Jungkook.

Although, you’re able to catch on to some cues slowly. Jia gets annoyed when you blabber about Jungkook. It’s understandable though. You speak of him almost every single day. If Jia were to gush about someone to you the same way, you couldn’t promise you’d receive it any better than she does.

Attempting to change the subject, you offer her a bite of your red velvet pastry, “I think they’ve stopped using the off-brand cream cheese.”

She opens her mouth, waiting for you to feed her.

You spoon a proper amount of cake to icing ratio and wave it in front of her nose.

“It does smell better,” she hums with a pleased expression on her face. “But, the overly sweet cake and bitter matcha combo was charming in its own way.”

An animated, pink, heart-shaped light bulb goes off in your head.

“Do you think Jungkook would like it if I brought him matcha or another drink? It’s a… you know, a gesture. Might put me on his radar.”

So much for wanting to stop discussing him.

You stare at her, eagerly waiting for her take on your little idea.

She snickered, but you swore it could be mistaken for a scoff, “Just leave him be.”

You quiet down but internally make a note to yourself to buy two cranberry lychee juice boxes instead of one tomorrow. Boys like cranberry, right? 

Recently, you’ve been finding Jia more irritable. Not just when you blab about some guy but even in general. You swore you could feel her distancing herself from you and that’s a chance you don’t want to take. 

Jia isn’t the only one on the receiving end of your love-foolish chatter. 

By now, you’ve most definitely discussed it with almost every friend of yours, excluding the mutual ones you share with Jungkook. Even the friends who don’t go to the same university as you know of your crush on Jungkook. Although, they’re a tad more receptive to your endless chatter than Jia. 

It’s embarrassing only if you really, really think about it. But, you generally brush the humiliation off as a secondary, less important issue.

Jia and your relationship started and ended right where it began--- at university. She’s your only friend in university with whom you share most of your classes, precisely six out of nine in total.

During your first year, you decided to stick together out of convenience, sharing a fashion designing and styling major and whatnot. It’s easier to latch onto each other when you’re expected to work in a group than find someone new and socialize at this level. The competition is pretty cutthroat, you wouldn’t want to risk working alongside someone you have no chemistry with. It’s too late for experimentation.

Jia, unlike you, lives off-campus and her bus arrives almost twenty minutes before your college shuttle that goes directly from the cafe to your dorm gate. So, you accompany her to the bus station and wander off for a while.  

Remembering to run a small errand, you stop at a stationary store to buy ribbons and envelopes. Just in case.

It was a fifteen-minute walk to the store and back. You swing your fluffy, white bag and trot to your favourite place within a five-mile radius of your campus.

You liked to envision your relationships. It’s most certainly not healthy but Jungkook is just oh, so dreamy, you couldn’t help it even if you tried.

You stare off into the sky, daydreaming of your non-existent relationship with him.

You would write him love notes and letters frequently and decorate them with fresh, red, or pink lipstick stain kisses, maybe a few doodles and stickers as well. And when he’d buy you flowers, you’d do your best to dry them and preserve them so that you can look back at your relationship and swoon.

Maybe he’d take you to watch plays or concerts or maybe he’s the type to win you a stuffed toy at the carnival or to dress up for a theme party. And you could save the tickets and wristbands from those events.

You can’t even bear the thought of actually being able to go to a regular college party with him, being his date, the one who gets to dance on him, hold him and kiss him--- that’d disappoint quite a lot of people, you reckon. He is well-liked. A tiny bit private too. Maybe you could be his little secret. The thought of being his secret girlfriend turns you redder than a plum. Imagining yourself being his anything makes your heart pump blood twice as hard as the normal rate.

“Hey?”

Sigh.

“_____?”

Involuntarily, you respond to your name being called, “Huh?”

“Hey, you’re holding up the line.”

Your eyes focus on the familiar-faced cashier. An embarrassed giggle escapes your lips. You quietly apologised to the customers behind you.

“Joon. Hi, sorry. Spaced out.” You blush. As if he knows what you’re thinking about, he smiles fondly, “I don’t know if it’s cute or creepy that you think of him this often.”

Furrowing your brows, “It’s innocent! I’m not, like, harassing him or sexualizing him or anything.”

Namjoon scans your ribbons and the packet of off-white envelopes, “I’m only messing with you, cloud.”

You hum knowingly. “See you in class.”

You wave him off.

'Cloud' is one of the nicknames lovingly given to you by your seniors, Namjoon and Yoongi.

Yoongi says that you think miles ahead and higher than anyone else he knows and Namjoon agrees. But, you’ve always thought it was because you’ve got your head up in the clouds most of the time. It’s like a permanent state of consciousness. It is your only indulgence. Time goes by way too fast, you’re busy all the time. The only ‘escape’ is your silly little daydreams.

While people find your crush on Jungkook cute, sometimes you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes. 

You wouldn’t want someone like you crushing on you, so why would he? It’s one of the things that has stopped you from actually asking him out, or talking to him at all in the past.

Now, on the other hand, you’re nearing the end of the semester and the beginning of your winter break. Soon, you’ll have all the time in the world.

This time, you refuse to get too ahead of yourself and fantasize about your prementioned relationship. Perhaps, it’s ambitious or even egoistical to call it a premonition.   

You’re on your way back to the shuttle pick up point when you notice another oddly familiar figure. 

Jungkook!

You shake your nerves and walk as casually as you possibly can, to where he stood.

Secretly clearing your throat, you greet him with a shy smile, “Hi.”

When he doesn’t respond, you debate on shifting even closer, but that would be an awkward move and a serious invasion of his personal space. His dark hoodie seemed to interfere with his peripheral vision, too.

So, you tap him gently on the arm. His head swiftly faces yours, making you take a step or two back.

“Hi,” You owlishly stare at him.

Jungkook scrunches his brows, a little embarrassed that he doesn’t recognise you.

“Hey… how are you?” He recovers. “Good! A little cold.” You smile. 

It smelt like snow, but you wouldn’t want to creep him out with your odd senses.

Where did he know you from? He’s positive he has seen you before.

“Right, yeah. It smells like snow,” he responds.

t that, your mouth almost drops open. That’s what you were going to say too!  

Your enthusiasm shows as you explain, “It does! I thought I’d scare you if I said something like that.”  

The corners of Jungkook’s eyes crinkle, complimenting the huge smile that adorned his face.

“I’m Jungkook. Or JK. What’s your name?”

Oh?

Ow, you internally clench your heart.

Your face momentarily falls deep down into the ground, but you almost instantaneously pick it right back up.

The object of your secret affection doesn’t :) even :) know :) you.  

“_____.” You shyly brush your hair off your shoulder to your back, “We’re in literary theory studies with-” -  “Carmichael? Right! You’re Jia’s _____.” 

You falter but register what he just said to you.

Whose what now? 

He nods, “I knew I saw your face before! I remember your elocution thing about Woolf. It left a mark on me!” He pats you on the shoulder. Like you would a child. 

But, more importantly, Jia’s _____?

You knew the girl had godly looks and an angelic personality, but- “Hey, is everything okay? I swear I meant it in the best way possible. I didn’t have much interest in literature. But ever since that speech, I’ve been focusing more on figuring out books by myself rather than depending on what the author tries to convey. It’s fun to be rebellious.” Jungkook elaborates when he sees your eyes dim.

You fail to register his compliments for a bit. A million thoughts are racing in your mind at thousands of miles an hour.

“_____?” Jungkook slightly bends his knees to get a better look at you.

“Mhm, right. The correct term is intentional fallacy,” you mutter with a ghost of a smile. “And, thanks.”

Although Jungkook’s a little confused, he nods anyway. “Yeah! I-”

Tilting your head to the side, you blurt, “How do you know Jia?”

Jungkook stares at you.

“Sorry, I mean, I don’t know. She has never… mentioned you before?” you offer. 

“Oh. Well, I’m- Jia’s my girlfriend. She has talked about you a few times. Enough to know you’re good friends,” he blushes.

“Oh!” You squeak.

You clutched the bag of accessories tighter. You’re sure your nails have made little, crescent injunctions on your palm because of how tightly you gripped the handle.

“Yeah. She didn’t tell you it was me…?” Jungkook was starting to look worried.

“Huh? No, yeah.” You nervously laugh, “I must’ve glossed over it, I mean- you know.”

You’ve never stuttered so hard in your entire twenty years of living.

“Actually, yes, I believe she did talk about you. The- uh, the candles?” You suddenly, vaguely remembered Jia talking about making candles with an ‘almost boyfriend’ friend.

Talk about quick reflexes.

Just like that, Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, “Oh, good! You looked like you were about to start crying. Because- well, she tells me about this girl she's friends with who has some kind of a creepy, schoolgirl crush on me or something. And for a hot second, I thought that’d be you.” 

You raised a brow. Way too many revelations are being made against your will. And your mind is empty. Null. Nada. Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours.

“Yeah. I know it sounds strange, turns out I don’t even know this girl.” Jungkook looked down at his phone, “The bus is later than usual.”

It’s hard to make sense of everything. Why would he suddenly assume you were the girl even though you’re Jia’s friend? 

You press your lips together. “Do you think it’s creepy?”

“The- what?” He looks up from his phone, with his full attention on you.

“The girl. Who crushes on you or whatever.” You reiterate, “Do you find that creepy?”

Jungkook pauses. He tilted his head from side to side, deep in thought.

“Honestly?” He leans in closer to you and raises a brow, “Maybe a little. I mean, I don’t even know her. But, Jia does. They’re friends. Then again, maybe, creepy is an overstatement.”

You hum and stare at your feet.

Sadness and cold do not go well together. This time, actual tears threaten to slide down your cheeks. You shift your weight from one foot to another.

“Why’d you ask?” Jungkook senses a shift in mood.

“Oh, just out of curiosity.” You flash him a small smile. It didn’t reach your eyes. Jungkook slowly nods and goes back to checking his phone for updates.

Part of you wants to admit to him that it was you because suddenly, Jia’s questions from earlier that day made sense.

But then, you don’t want him to think of you as some creepy girl with a creepy crush.

You weren’t creepy.

People would’ve told you off if that were to be the case. They mostly encouraged you or at least didn’t stop you.

With the exception of Jia, of course. Even then, she wasn’t entirely vocal about it.

Is it pity or sadism?

Was everyone hiding this from you? Did everyone but you know about it?

You doubt that Sieun, a mutual friend of yours and Jia, would keep something like this from you if she knew. 

But then again, you never expected Jia to turn out to be so… sneaky.

Your sadness outweighs your embarrassment.

“Are you waiting for the shuttle too?” he questions you with a raised brow. 

You open your mouth for a second or two before settling on nodding. 

“I don’t think the bus will get here anytime soon. It’s already snowed in on the fifth.” Jungkook turns the bright screen towards you. “We can Uber out of here before the snow sets in here. Unless you want to wait?”

“Sure,” you plainly reply. 

“Is that a yes to the waiting or?” Jungkook chuckled. 

“No. No more waiting. Uber’s good.” you softly spoke. 

“Great, I’m on it!” He affirms.

It’s still unsettling for you to have no natural, outward reaction to indirectly being called a creep by someone you admired for so long.

Suddenly, your embarrassment skyrockets. 

You can’t comprehend your emotions; you feel like you’ve been punched in the throat with a stone brick.

There are dead butterflies in your tummy--- moths. The wind feels colder, and you shudder.

You stare at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. 

A warm jacket suddenly dons on your shoulders. “You need it way more than I do.” Jungkook frowns, “Are you okay?”

You abruptly turn to him, thanking him gently for his jacket, “I was just cold.” 

You softly scoff, “You’re awfully kind.”

Jungkook pats you on the shoulder before he says, “Any friend of my girlfriend is a friend of mine! Plus, you’re cute.”

He’s really cheesy. Even though the single mention of Jia struck very thick, large needles in your tummy, you couldn’t help but smile at his words.

Au contraire to your expression, for the first time in a while, you’re not in the clouds but the complete opposite--- grounded, perhaps a more accurate term would be ‘devastated’. You’re absolutely, completely floored. Underground. Downright stumped. Confused. Definitely angry. 

You vowed to push your emotions away for the duration of your travel with Jungkook. 

[hannahssimblr]

She’s got her nose in a magazine. This is how she entertains herself these days, magazines. She rolls out of bed in the morning and goes down to the local newsagents to scour the racks, brings something back and reads it out the back on the outdoor furniture with a cup of strong coffee, the sun cooking pale shoulders. 

I’m with her today, lounging in the chair adjacent with my neck thrown back, squinting at the clouds that drift by in the sky.

“Horoscopes,” she announces, flipping to the back page. I just listen. 

“First week of July for Scorpio. ‘Looks like you’re gearing up for another week of being a grumpy, miserable bastard. Wow, cheer up, oh my god. You’re pissing everyone off with your moods, like, just go for a run or something, I don’t fucking know.’” she pretends to be shocked, “wow, brutal today, isn’t it?”

My laugh is lifeless, “Mmph. Hilarious.”

“Wait, there’s more: ‘literally, sitting around the house and being sad is not helping. You’re not going to get back with your ex girlfriend. (A Leo: incompatible) Why don’t you try getting over someone by getting under someone else, since as a Scorpio, your whole personality is how consistently and voraciously horny you are.’ Wow.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying it, the horoscope is.”

I eye her suspiciously, “You think I should find a new girlfriend?”

Not necessarily,” she tosses the magazine onto the table in front of us, “That girl Claire was pretty, wasn’t she? What if you just talked to her?”

“Claire? Oh. No. She’s not my type.”

“Yes she is.”

“I’m not interested,” and, equally, has Jen been looking around? I’m not the one who wants to be under Claire O’Reilly. The last thing I want to have this summer is a repeat of the Clóda situation, to be driven over by Shane's Fiat Punto now that he has his licence. I’m not hooking up with anyone this summer. In fact, maybe I'll just never have sex again, because obviously it’s destructive not worth it. 

Please. Yes you will. A voice in my head sneers, Don’t lie to yourself, you like it too much. The voice in my head is inarguably correct. But still, it won’t happen this summer. I’ll be like a celebate monk. I’ll take a vow not to look at boobs in secret, even. 

“Well maybe you’ll change your mind tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“I invited her to a barbeque. Her and Kelly and the other friend.”

“Oh right. I’m not coming.”

“Jude!” she cries, “what’s wrong with you? Why not?”

“Because you’re going to want me to talk to Claire, and if I do then you’re going to be watching me and making faces, and then you’re going to want to discuss it all with me later and I’m just not bothered. I’ve told you I’m not interested.”

She heaves out an impatient sigh, “there’s nothing wrong with talking to girls. Michelle won’t find out.”

“I didn’t even say this was about her.”

“Well,” she shrugs, “it’s good for you both to try and move on. I’d give her the same advice.”

My spine stiffens, “has she been seeing someone?”

“What? No. And if she was I wouldn’t tell you, just like I won’t tell her about you and Claire.”

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this.”

“What? Conversation?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Oh just come. You’ll freak everyone out if you’re sitting in your room all night. They'll think you're a weirdo.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

“Good.”

I snatch the magazine from the table and flip through to the last page, “Let’s see what bullshit is in store for you this week, huh? Pisces… ‘It’s time to stop controlling everyone's life’ oh, yikes! Look at that! ‘Mind your own business for once, it makes you seem crazy and obsessed.’”

“God sake,” she rolls her eyes and makes a swipe for the magazine, but I bop her in the side of the head with it before she can. She growls in frustration and I laugh, holding it at arms length as she scrambles over the seat. 

“If murder was legal I’d have killed you already,” she says. 

“Boo hoo. Too bad for you, Jenny.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.

[talesfromthesnogbox]

I Want Your Video

Summary: Henry is roped into getting off on camera, the Hysterical Literature AU nobody asked for.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,815

AO3 Link

----------

“Pez…”

“Hazza! Come on, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

Henry rolled his eyes. He loved his best friend Percy, he really did, but he had a knack for getting Henry to do things he would normally never do. And this… this, was something he’d never thought about doing, ever.

“Pez, I’ve got an actual following now. Don’t you think this is a little…”

“No! This is perfect for you. And with your next book coming soon too, trust me Henry, this will be great, you’ll be great."

See, Henry was a writer, just… not a very successful one. Until recently. His debut novel How to Steal a Heart didn’t do as well as he’d hoped when he upended his life and moved from London to Brooklyn. Broke from trying to market his book, and determined to not accept defeat, he took a job with his publisher, where he’d then become friends with one of the lawyers on staff, one Alex Claremont-Diaz. Unfortunately for Henry, Alex was so so much like Gabriel, the love interest to James in Henry’s novel. It was like he’d shook the book and watched Alex step out as he got to know the other man, and in his opinion, his perfect man.

How to Steal a Heart wasn’t the Pride & Prejudice Henry had hoped to one day write, but it was his first novel, and absolutely his baby. Three years sitting on the shelves with hardly any sales had Henry close to throwing in the towel. Alex encouraged him to keep writing, even if only for himself, but it was hard for him to find motivation to continue. It was only weeks later that Alex would send him the TikTok that would change his life. The book blew up, Henry started getting recognized on the street, the interviews poured in, and suddenly, he was signing for books two and three with his publisher.

And Pez, his best friend, wanted him to do porn.

“I know what’s going through your head, young man. The video isn’t porn, it’s an artistic statement on human sexuality.”

“Pez. You want me to sit on camera and read a book while someone tugs me off, it’s porn.” Henry played with his signet ring, refusing to meet Pez’s eyes.

“No one will be touching you, dear. It’s all remote control based, and very safe and respectful. I would keep my spot on the team but you know I’ve got to go back to London to see my dear Granny. Please Hazza?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “How many people are in the room with me? And do I have to get Shaan to sign off on anything?”

Pez’s excitable gasp put a smile on Henry’s face. “Oh my god you’re a lifesaver! I’ll send the documents over for him to glance at. The shoot is on Saturday morning, wear what you like, you’re still gonna be clothed above the waist. Just one person of your choosing in the room to start and stop the camera, or none if you like! I’ll drop off the goods at your office on Friday before I leave.”

By the time Friday rolled around, Henry had almost forgotten what he’d agreed to. Almost. Pez flew through his office like a tornado, giving him advice on what to wear, how to style his hair, and finally, dropping off what he came for.

“Brand spanking new, and yours to keep after the shoot, you’re welcome. I’ve got one like that too and… you are very welcome.” Henry grimaced. “I’m sure you two will have a lot of fun.”

“Everything I’ve learned about your sex life has been against my will.” Henry inspected the box Pez gave him. The packaging was nice, sturdy, expensive feeling. 

“Well I happen to know you’re more of a size queen than I am, so lube up friend, there’s some in the box.”

His face scrunched in disgust as he reminded himself to never tell Pez anything ever again. 

“Right, thanks for that then I suppose. Anything else I should know about—”

A knock and a mass of dark, curly hair interrupted his train of thought. Alex.

“Shit sorry, didn’t know you had company.” 

Henry scrambled to hide the box Pez had dropped off, eyebrows shooting into his hairline as Pez shot him a look. “Not to worry dear, Auntie Pezza has a flight to catch. See you later boys, oh and Henry, tell me how it goes?”

Henry nodded at his friend, waving him off. “Safe travels, all the rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Alex turned to Henry, a question gleaming in his eyes. “Hot date later?”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as Henry puffed out a breath. “No, no not quite.”

“Excellent. So you’ll be around tomorrow afternoon then?” Alex looked almost hopeful.

Henry winced. “Also not quite, no. Tomorrow night maybe?” He knew he’d probably be keyed up and feeling slightly self conscious after the shoot, drinks with his other best friend slash office crush would definitely keep his mind occupied.

Alex shrugged. “Sure, I can make that work. Want to try that new place in Greenwich?” He flashed his million dollar smile at Henry, the one that never failed to make him melt.

He’s straight, he’s straight, he’s straight!

“Sounds lovely. I’ll swing by yours around 7 and we can come up together?” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Alex gestured to the mound of papers on Henry’s desk, covering the unopened toy box. “So whatcha hiding in there?”

Henry’s breath hitched. “Oh—um well you see…” He stroked his chin, a faraway look taking over his features. “Well you know Pez fairly well I guess. He’s talked me into… helping out one of his friends while he’s gone with an… art… thing…”

Alex’s dark brow furrowed, he nodded along knowing he probably wouldn’t get anything more from the blond man. “Right. And I’m assuming the art… thing is tomorrow afternoon?”

He nodded, clicking his tongue. “Shouldn’t take long—well… ah—I um—” Henry stumbled on his words. “Yeah. I’ve gotta be ready for two.”

“Cool. Do I get to know what it is?”

Henry’s internal monologue had just become various screams. “Ah, um maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime once it’s done and I’ve consumed a lot of alcohol.”

Alex smirked. “Is that a challenge?”

He let out an incredulous laugh. “Git!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I want those dirty details, Fox.”

Henry blushed. “You have no idea what you’re asking for Alex.”

---

The time had come for Henry to be on camera, and in all fairness to Pez, everyone so far had been really lovely. Sophie, the eager intern, had him checked in with paperwork and release forms signed, and Theo, the director of the project, walked him through the afternoon’s timeline.

“So we’ll start with a short interview, just to get a sense of who you are, a bit of your background and what you do, then we’ll take a short break to get you prepped, and from there it’s go time. I’m assuming Pez dropped off the vibrator?” Henry nodded, taking in the information in stride as he remembered what he was there to actually do. “Great. I’ll be in the other room controlling the remote for you, so you don’t have to do anything but look pretty and read. Any questions?”

“Yeah, where… um—” Henry had taken some time earlier to stretch himself out a bit in preparation, but the toy was still firmly nestled in its box. Luckily the project was fairly portable, and the small crew had invaded his new apartment.

“Where can you get yourself ready?” His place was bigger than his last shoebox, but still small enough to feel self conscious about inserting the plug knowing there were people in the room over. It had been years since he’d had roommates, and he wasn’t used to having to monitor his noise levels. “We’re setting up in the office so it’s up to you, whether you’d prefer your bedroom or bathroom, we’ll keep crew away from there.” Henry nodded in acknowledgement. “I know this is intimidating, but say the word and we stop, you know that, right?”

He let out a sigh of relief, a smile crossing his face. “Thank you. I’m okay, just a little nervous is all. I’m not unaccustomed to strangers watching me finish,” he shot Theo a look, hoping he understood he was talking about random hookups, “but I’ve never done anything on camera before.”

“Totally fine, don’t even think of it that way, you’re just reading a book!” 

He smiled and followed him into the office for the interview portion of the video.

Once he was mic’d up and properly lit, Theo started with the questions.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself a bit, tell us who you are and what you’ll be reading today.”

A warm smile crossed Henry’s face. “Hi, I’m Henry Fox, and I’m a writer. Originally hailing from London, I moved to New York with my best friend Pez to be closer to my publisher. My book How to Steal a Heart recently became popular on BookTok, and has been in the top five on the New York Times bestsellers list for twenty weeks in a row. It follows a young prince named James who goes undercover as a commoner weeks before his wedding to Lady Elizabeth. James meets Gabriel, a Spanish traveller, who’s been sent to England to steal a precious jewel from the royal family, but instead steals James’ heart.” He looks down at his desk, stroking the spine of the book. “I poured my heart and soul into this book, and it’s incredibly touching to hear how much everyone else has loved it too. But I won’t be reading this today.”

Henry picked up the other book on his desk, a well loved copy of a Regency era romance, two handsome men on the cover. “The Servant and the Gentleman by Annabelle Greene. These have kind of become my guilty pleasure read when I’m not in the headspace for something like Pride & Prejudice. There’s something romantic and sexy about the Regency era, when a simple brush of fingers can cause an audience to gasp. Of course this one is a lot, erm, smuttier than Austen’s work, but it’s a work I’ve returned to a few times.” He looks up at Theo, who’s leaning against the doorframe with a smile.

“Great! You’re a natural on camera, Henry.” Theo leads the excess crew out of the room in preparation for the next stage. He hands him a bath robe and walks him to his bedroom. “We’re going to fix up the desk a little bit, throw a sheet over it so your lower half is covered. We tested the remote already, so you just need to worry about you, okay?”

Henry nodded in understanding, taking the box from Sophie the intern, and closing his door. The nerves had begun to settle in as he unboxed the black, silicone plug. It felt nice, soft and lightweight, the small light indicating it was already on but the motor not started. He gave it a wash, letting it air dry on a clean towel as he stepped out of his trousers and briefs. His heart pounded as he poured a bit of lube on his fingers and got to work opening himself up.

A short few minutes later, he was able to slip the the toy in. Henry groaned, his cock finally warming up to the idea of what he was about to do. Taking a deep breath, he donned the robe Theo had given him, and walked out into the office.

Henry knew realistically this wasn’t the first video the crew had done. Pez mentioned they were filming twelve over the course of a few weeks, and his had been near the end, but he was fairly surprised by the professionalism of it all. He settled into his chair, a towel already laid down, and sheet covering his legs from the room, and dropped the robe. His breath hitched as the plug nudged his prostate; they hadn’t even started filming and he already knew he was fucked. 

“Alright. If we’re ready to go, I’ll just give you a bit of a run down. We’ll hit record on the camera and get out of your way, I’ve got headphones so I can monitor what you’re saying. You’ll start by introducing yourself and the book you’re reading, once you’ve finished, state your name once more and the title of the book. We’ll wait outside until you’re ready for us to come back in. I’ll control the remote from this side of the door. If ever it gets too intense or you don’t want to continue, please just yell for one of the crew and we stop. You understand so far?”

Henry nodded.

“Verbal consent please hon, things can get pretty intense and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Henry smiled. “Yes, thank you Theo, I understand.”

He gave a quick nod and continued. “Don’t worry about holding back, noises, faces, words are all good, but please don’t feel the need to put on a show. I want you to be authentic in yourself, show us what your pleasure looks like. It’s a beautiful thing, it’s poetic, it’s art. Last thing, don’t worry about how long or short you last here. We’ve had a few people last a couple paragraphs, and one last a couple chapters. Take what you need.”

“Got it. I—I think I’m ready.”

Theo smiled. “Good, we’re ready on our end as well. I’ll hit record, and as soon as I’m out the door, you can start.”

Henry nodded one last time, wriggling in his chair and turning to the chapter. Theo gave him a thumbs up, and closed the door, leaving him alone. He took a deep breath, and stared down the barrel of the lens. “Hi, I’m Henry Fox, and today I’ll be reading The Servant and The Gentleman by Annabelle Greene.”

He cleared his throat, eyes scanning the page before he started. “Chapter ten. One bed. A very large bed, a mahogany four-poster that took up most of the sloping attic room, but still a bed in the singular rather than plural. Josiah sat awkwardly on one corner of it, the feathers in the mattress astonishingly soft.” 

Henry’s fingers twitched in anticipation, his pulse quickening; the wait for the vibrations to start was almost agonizing, and his cock thickened as the wait for pleasure stretched on. He could begin to understand why this was so erotic. He was alone so the pleasure felt like it was all his, but in reality, someone on the other side of that door held the key to his undoing.

He continued the chapter, getting accustomed to the way his voice sounded in the room alone, when he jolted as a low thrumming vibration started. “He’d noticed, then. He’d seen what Josiah had secretly h-hoped he would. Josiah took a step towards Hartley, seized with a sudden, overwhelming desire to k-kiss him.” Henry stumbled over the words, taking deep breaths as he tried to read in earnest. He shifted in his seat, hoping to take some pressure away, but the new angle had the bulbous head of the plug settle right up against his prostate. Almost like clockwork, the vibrations levelled up.

His words became breathy, and he gulped in air, trying to hold back the whines he desperately wanted to let go, but he kept reading. “He held his breath as Mr. Balfour moved closer. Close enough to press against him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Hartley sighed, a deep shiver running through him as he looked into the man’s warm brown eyes—Oh!” Henry dropped the book from his left hand, his palm coming flat to the table as he tilted his head down and closed his eyes in pleasure. He bit his lip, and scrunched his nose, resisting the urge to roll his hips. His cock was now fully interested in what was happening, he was half hard, and so badly wanted to wrap his hand around his length. But with a low chuckle, he returned both hands to the book and continued reading. 

“He couldn’t even think of him as Mr. Balfour anymore.” Henry composed himself, getting accustomed to the new speed of the toy. “Not in this naked, vulnerable light. Master, servant, Mr. Hartley, Mr. Balfour; no rank, no polite form of address, quite held up to scrutiny. Not here. Not now.” He gasped, gripping the book with white knuckled fingers, and let the air out with a hum through closed lips. “Fuckin’ hell that’s… wow.” With a shake of his head, he read on.

“The man in front of him was Josiah. As for himself, he was no one, no one at all. Just a terrified creature in desperate need of relief, of fulfilment that only Josiah could provide.” His voice was shaky, and his knee bounced under the table. “Hartley stared, briefly shocked at the idea of it, before Josiah’s lips met his, and thoughts were suddenly, deliciously drowned in f—uuuuck.” Henry threw his head back, chest heaving as he finally gave into his instincts and let his hips roll. With every rock of his hips, the plug pushed against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. His cock leaked a steady stream of precum, and his fingers itched to grasp himself, spread his wetness down his length, pump into his fist, with a name on his lips. And suddenly he remembered where he was again. “Deliciously drowned in feeling.”

“There was no room anymore. No door, no walls, no confinement whatsoever. With J-Josiah’s kiss came infinite sp—infinite space; a liberation so complete that H-Hartley couldn’t help but sigh with relief.” His fingers shook as he traced the words, and suddenly, that telltale tingle at the base of his spine started. “O—oh f—fuck.” He moaned in earnest, the dam breaking now as he writhed in his seat. “He—unnhh!” Henry slammed his palm down against the desk again, shoulders hunching forwards as his hand curled. He was close, but it wasn’t enough. If he could only get a hand around himself… 

Henry panted lowly, not sure if it was deemed appropriate to ask to go up in speed, but as if his mind had been read, the vibrations kicked it up a notch. The book was long forgotten, his eyes were closed, and he was sure his face was a picture of pleasure. A second jolt of pleasure railed through him as the piece of the toy wedged against his perineum sparked to life. His cock leaked steadily now, he shook as he reached back to grip the edge of the chair, a strangled cry leaving his throat. His other hand slammed against the table, losing his page in the book entirely. His hips rocked against the chair and he whimpered. “Ffffuck, f—fuck, A—Ale…. christ.” He choked in a breath, back going taut as his hips stuttered, and with a shout, he came. 

His ass clenched around the plug as he painted the towel draped across his lap. The shocks kept coming, he felt like it would never end, like he never wanted it to end, it was fucking good. An airy giggle left his lips as his head lolled back, the aftershocks of his orgasm wracking through him, milking the plug he had absolutely no control over. Henry kind of felt invincible, like he could do it again, and again, and again, until his body could give nothing else. He’d never came so hard, not even with the best fuck he’d had, and in that moment he knew, he’d put on a damn good show.

The camera crew must have heard him coming down, because the vibrations stopped shortly after he’d caught his breath. Henry chuckled and shook his head, breathing in once, twice, then looking right down the barrel of the lens again and saying, “My name is Henry Fox, and I’ve just read The Servant and The Gentleman by Annabelle Greene.”

He blinked once, twice, giving Theo enough room to cut the end of his shot, then he moved to clean himself up. Wiping himself down brought the sudden realization that this was going to be online… and then it dawned on him… what if Alex saw this? 

---

Henry wrung his hands together as he met up with Alex for their dinner in Greenwich. He was still keyed up despite the satiated feeling that took over his body as soon as Theo and his crew left that afternoon; it was a different type of intensity, the anticipation of knowing Alex could find out at any point what he was doing that afternoon. And of course, the anxiety of knowing he’d pretty well shouted Alex’s name as he came.

“Henry… hey, are you… are you there man?”

Henry blinked at Alex, shaking his head slightly pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Yes, yes sorry. You were saying?”

Alex stopped, pulling Henry to the edge of the sidewalk when he’d earned a grumble under their breath from a passing pedestrian. “Are you okay? You seem off. Did something happen?”

“What? No, I’m fine! I’m fine.”

Alex cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? You’ve been quiet since you came to get me.”

A smile graced Henry’s face finally, hopefully levelling out some of Alex’s concern. “Yes, I’m sure, I’m fine. I think this afternoon was just a little more… intense than I was anticipating.”

“Oh yeah!” Alex lit up once more, guiding Henry back onto the sidewalk towards their destination. “How’d your art thing go?”

Henry held back the urge to laugh. What did he even say to that? It was incredible? The best orgasm he’d ever had? Oh, I came so hard my brain leaked out my ears, and you can watch it all in dazzling 4K, coming soon to a youtube channel near you. Don’t get freaked out if you maybe hear your name towards the end, I definitely wasn’t thinking of you railing me into next week.

“It was good, the people were nice.”

Alex shot him a look. “That’s it? You ever gonna tell me what it was about? Oh! Or will I maybe see it down the line?” A high pitched giggle left Henry’s mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean? My god, did you like pose nude or something?”

Henry tilted his head side to side, face scrunched. “Or something.” 

“What!” Alex grabbed Henry’s forearm, shooting heat through him and making him blush. That beautiful smile graced his features, deviant and excitable, making him feel oddly supported. “Oh my god Henry, did you do a boudoir shoot? This whole time I thought you were a prude, have you been holding out on me?”

Henry scoffed. “You’ve read my book, you know I’m not a prude.”

“I thought we were friends, would you just tell me already? It’s killing me here man!” 

“Maybe in time. And with a lot of alcohol, remember? Just… drop it for tonight, please?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll drop it. But when you do finally tell me what it was, I wanna see it!”

Henry’s heart skipped a beat. “Absolutely not.”

---

irl chaos demon

[10:15 p.m.] Dude, have you seen this?

Alex swiped away Nora’s text, knowing it was probably some TikTok trend, and he was not willing to start on that rabbit hole tonight.

 irl chaos demon

[10:18 p.m.] I just finished watching it and… I think you’ll want to see this 👀

He eyed the message carefully before finally clicking on the notification and seeing the youtube link she’d sent him. Intimate Words: Session Ten: Henry.

Oh?

The thumbnail was vague. Alex recognized the background to be Henry’s apartment office space, with the wall of books behind him. He was seated at his desk, a book open in front of him, as he smiled softly into the camera. His hair wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t slicked back into his usual perfect coif. Alex imagined this softer, more undone version of Henry was one reserved for the comforts of his own home when he shared it with someone more… well intimately. He clicked through to the video, a short logo stinger introducing it, and oh! This must have been the art thing he was doing those few weeks ago!

Alex paused the video, considering the idea of texting Henry to let him know he would be watching… but then remembered how skittish he’d been about it. He’d gotten the impression that Henry didn’t want Alex watching this. The description was about as vague as the thumbnail, it read ‘Author Henry Fox reads from The Servant and The Gentleman by Annabelle Greene. Directed by Theo Lawson’ 

It seemed straightforward enough, just Henry reading a book�� so then why was he so embarrassed about it?

Alex did the only thing he could think to do at that moment. He called June.

“Hey Lil Bit, what’s up?”

“Did Nora show you a video of Henry?”

June scoffed. “Yeah, she did. I didn’t watch it all the way through cause he’s like my less annoying non-biological brother and that would be weird, but…”

“Why didn’t you finish the video? She said I’ll want to see it, but it didn’t sound like Henry wanted me to see it.” 

June went silent. 

“Bug, what’s up with this fucking video?”

“Alejandro!” Nora joined the call, sitting beside June. “To what do we owe the pleasure, we just got into bed.”

“Gross. Nora what’s with the link?”

“Ooooooh! Did you watch it? Hot, right?”

It was Alex’s turn to be silent.

“Oooohhhkay, I’m going to guess from your lack of response you either didn’t watch it, or are currently questioning your sexuality.”

“Nora, why the fuck would this video make me question my sexuality?”

Nora chuckled. “So you really didn’t watch it, huh. Have you actually not heard about this project?”

“Clearly I haven’t.” Alex went right to Google. The Intimate Words project. He clicked on the first link to the official site and read through the description, eyes going wide. “Nora… did Henry… sorry explain this to me like I’m five. What am I looking at?”

“Henry read a book on camera while getting some good vibrations, pun intended, as an artistic statement in favour of normalizing what pleasure looks like on different people.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Soooo, should I watch it?”

“I dunno Alex, should you?”

“I mean do I want to watch it?”

Her voice went softer. “I can’t answer that Alejandro, do you want to watch it?”

Alex dropped his hand, looking at the video thumbnail again. Henry’s soft smile stared back, warm and inviting, and for a moment, a flutter erupted in his chest. He was straight. He was straight? At least he was pretty sure he was straight… Was he? 

His head spun as he thought back to every interaction he’d had with Henry since meeting him. They riffed off each other perfectly, best buds, a good pal, but… but Alex was disappointed whenever Henry would cancel plans, and everything felt better, brighter, when Henry was around. 

A few minutes of comfortable silence had passed. “Nora? I’m gonna go.”

“You okay Lil Bit?” This time it was June that chimed in.

“Yeah, I’m good, well, we’ll see how I’m feeling in a bit I guess.”

“Call me when you’re done!” Nora shouted over the phone.

“Ew, that’s my brother, asshole.”

Alex hung up before their fighting turned into something he wouldn’t be able to un-hear, and clicked on the video. His heart was thrumming in his chest as Henry’s smooth voice rang through his bedroom, and he began reading.

It was only a minute or so into the video, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was just Henry, he was just reading, and maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. He was twitchier than usual, but Alex figured it had to do with the nature of the video he was performing in. Henry didn’t seem like the type of person to do anything like this. Admittedly, Alex didn’t know really much about Henry’s dating life, he tended to keep pretty quiet about it at work or otherwise, but apparently he was more adventurous than Alex thought him to be. 

But then came the stuttering. 

And Alex’s body finally caught up with what his brain knew he was watching.

From the first breathy gasp Henry let out, Alex knew the answer to the question he’d had in his mind since the phone call with Nora. It was a clear and resounding no. 

He watched as Henry bit his full bottom lip, a stream of little noises spilling from between his teeth. Alex could see the way his fingers trembled against the desk, like Henry was unable to control the way they spasmed as he let what clearly was a magnificent feeling wash over him. He wasn’t entirely sure just what was being used on Henry, but his mind ran rampant with ideas, and it took less than a minute for his own cock to stir in his joggers. 

Alright, guess we’re doing this.

Henry’s voice shook deliciously as he continued to read, and for a moment, Alex thought about having him read aloud while Henry rode his cock. He groaned at the idea, which apparently Henry from the video could tell. “Fuckin’ hell that’s… wow.”

The surprise from his lips was almost endearing, no, adorable, but only for another minute because shortly after Henry let out a downright filthy string of expletives. 

“Fuck baby.” Alex groaned, watching Henry grind away on his desk chair. He wanted to mark up that perfect neck, suck bruises wherever he could, nip away at those sinful collarbones… he wanted to be the one making Henry feel like that.

Henry’s composure was waining, and so was Alex’s as his fingers twitched, itching to get a hand on himself. He could see the moment Henry gave up on the task at hand and focused purely on his pleasure, chasing what he needed, and good god, it was the hottest fucking thing Alex had seen in his thirty years of life. Better than anything he’d read, anything he’d seen, porn or otherwise, this video would ruin anyone else for him. Henry would ruin anyone else for him. His eyes were glued to the screen, he didn’t even want to blink in case he missed anything, and… was that his name?

Alex scrubbed backwards, hitting play and listening carefully and… “Ffffuck, f—fuck, A—Ale…. christ.”

He paused the video, the pleasure on Henry’s face frozen in time, the pleasure he’d gotten seconds after saying his name. Alex.

Alex opened his messages and texted Nora back.

TO: irl chaos demon

[10:58 p.m.] We’re talking about this tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Not tonight, tomorrow. Tonight Alex was preoccupied. 

The sexuality crisis could wait. The imagery of Henry getting off with his name on his lips was past the point of sending Alex into a spiral, and right to him being horny about it. He pulled his half hard cock out of his joggers, not even bothering with pushing them down knowing this would be quick. A few tugs with his hand had him throbbing and leaking over his knuckles. He closed his eyes, the memory of Henry’s breathy whimpers racing through his mind. A bite of his lip and a throaty groan of his own, and quickly, Alex was spilling over his fingers, making a mess of his hand and the waistband of his joggers.

He only allowed himself a moment of contemplation before he was wiping his hand off on his bottoms, they’d have to be washed anyways, and going to brush his teeth.

As he stared at his reflection, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, Alex did what he did in every crisis. He made a list.

That video of Henry turned him on.

Nora thought he’d want to see the video, and he did.

If he was being honest, that wasn’t the first time he’d had some kind of… feeling like that for a man.

On some level, he knew that he had to be somewhat into Henry 

That video of Henry really fucking turned him on.

With a sigh, Alex contemplated what this meant for him. There was no problem with him accepting the fact that he was low-key into guys. If anything, it opened up the dating pool for him… but he had a feeling he didn’t really want the dating pool to be opened past… well… Henry. He’d never really given a thought to his sexuality. Yeah, he liked women, he was confident in that for sure, but he’d never really thought about dating men until Henry.

By this point it was nearly midnight, and Alex’s head was spinning. He texted the group chat with Nora and June suggesting brunch in the morning and crawled into bed, hoping some clarity would come with sleep. That night he dreamt of Henry.

---

Brunch the next morning was… eventful to say the least. There was a lot of teasing on Nora’s part, and Alex spent the whole meal red (and not from the effects of bottomless mimosas). After much contemplation, and a chat with both Nora and June, Alex came to the conclusion that he was bisexual.

The more he said it, the more he felt like it really fit, and by the end of the weekend, Alex was feeling more confident about himself than he had felt in a while.

Monday morning at the office felt a little bit brighter, there was a spring in his step and for once he actually felt relaxed after a weekend off. That is until he opened his calendar and remembered that he agreed to lunch with Henry today.

“Alex, good morning.”

Speak of the devil.

“H-hey man, how was your weekend?” Alex picked up his coffee, blowing away the steam before taking a sip.

“It was nice, got a lot of writing done actually. I have another meeting this morning about my latest draft, but it’s all been pretty ‘good vibes’ so far with this book.”

Alex choked on his coffee, his nose burning from the hot liquid suddenly entering his airway.

“Oh god, are you alright?”

Alex nodded frantically, reaching for some tissues to wipe down the mess. “Fine, fine sorry, went down the wrong pipe there.”

Henry chuckled. “Just learning to swallow?” 

“Something like that.”

Henry’s eyebrows rose, oh god, Alex thought, am I actually successfully flirting with Henry?

“So lunch. Spencer and Zarah can’t make it today, I think it’s just gonna be us two. I was hoping to maybe check out that new Thai place?”

Alex blinked slowly. Lunch alone with Henry sounded dangerous, but it would be suspicious if he also randomly bailed. “Yeah, sounds great. I’ll meet you at the elevator at 1?”

Henry smiled warmly and nodded. “See you then!” He looked back and waved once he’d walked away, and Instantly Alex knew he was screwed.

The morning stretched on as Alex waited for the clock to strike 1. Henry looked so good today in a soft sweater, the collar of his shirt peeking through, and his hair just a little bit undone. His heart fluttered anxiously as he watched the clock, not even knowing what the hell he even did that morning, and then finally, it was time. Alex grabbed his wallet and phone, forcing himself to walk, not run, to the elevators where Henry was waiting. Unfortunately for him, the sight of Henry made him lose every coherent thought he’d had until that point.

They rode the elevator down in complete silence, Alex worrying the entire time about what they’d talk about once they were seated. Henry luckily filled the silence with updates on his meeting, prattling on about the book and the notes he was getting from his editor. 

The restaurant was a short walk away, and by the time they were seated, Henry had already recounted all the important bits of his meeting. They read through the menus, Henry glancing up to Alex every once in a while, and glancing back down with a blush when Alex caught his eye. Neither conversed with each other, even after the waiter took their orders and filled their water glasses. 

Alex could feel the tension between them. He was making it weird, but all he could see right now was Henry seated across from him, writhing in pleasure instead of the put together slightly stuffy persona he kept up during working hours. From spending the weekend fantasizing about him, to sitting across from him at lunch was a very strange dichotomy, and suddenly Alex was having a hard time separating the two Henry’s in his mind. Was it getting hot in here? 

“Alright, what’s bothering you? I’ve literally never seen you this quiet.”

Alex’s eyes went wide, his mouth gaped like a fish… he had absolutely no idea what to say. Does he just come clean? Tell Henry everything that had transpired over the weekend? Or does he lie and say he’s fine, just under the weather? Henry could usually read him like an open book, no matter what he says, he’d know Alex was lying. So all that he could come up with was, “I’m bisexual.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. He could tell that wasn’t what Alex had intended to say based on the slight wince that followed his short and succinct coming out. 

“Sorry… that—I-I didn’t—”

“Alex.” Henry reached across the table and laid his hand on top of Alex’s lightly. Alex’s brain promptly shuts down. “Thank you for telling me.”

He nods, eyes focused on their hands. “Yeah, ‘course, you’re my best friend, Hen.”

Henry smiled bashfully and pulled his hand away, taking a sip of water. “I’m not the first person you told, am I?”

Alex laughed, feeling a lot more himself now that Henry was guiding their conversation. “No, Nora and June kinda walked me through a sexuality crisis over the weekend.” Shit!

Intrigued, Henry raised his eyebrow. “Oh?”

Again, Alex started feeling hot under the collar, his smile dropped.

“Someone catch your interest?”

“Ah… um…” Alex winced. “Something like that.”

Henry nodded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Do I know him?”

Alex froze. He felt himself coming to a crossroad; he could laugh off the whole thing and say it was some actor in some new movie, typical bullshit, or he could come clean. Coming clean would obviously be the harder road… but would it? It would mean he wouldn’t have to dance around Henry like he had all day, maybe he could stop picturing his face masked in pleasure whenever he threw his head back in a laugh, and maybe, just maybe, it could mean Henry felt that way about him too.

Decision made, Alex begun to nod. “Yeah, actually, you do.” He played with the beads of his bracelet, a nervous habit he’d picked up, and braced himself. “Henry, I-I saw your video.”

Video… my vid—oh dear lord. Henry felt a hundred different emotions wash through him, confusion, fear, and embarrassment being the main features. “Oh god.”

“I—I think it was—”

Henry put a hand up, effectively stopping Alex from saying anything further. “I’m sorry I just… I’d really like for you to not finish that sentence.” He remembered the end of that video A—Ale…. christ… and let out a deep sigh. “Oh god.”

“Hen—”

“I… sorry I’ve got a meeting to get to.”

---

“Fuck, Pez. Fuck.”

“Hazza, I’m failing to see how this is a bad thing.”

Henry let his head fall to his desk with a thunk. “I said his fucking name Percy.”

Pez laughed on the other end of the phone. “Oh I know darling, I was a little offended it wasn’t my name on your lips, but this was a long time coming to be honest.”

“Pez.” Henry pleaded. “Please.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave. But I stand by what I said, I’m failing to see how this is bad for you. The man basically said you were his bisexual awakening, why are you on the phone with me instead of getting railed by—”

“Because! I don’t think I’m strong enough to only be with him casually. With him, it has to be all or nothing.”

He can hear Pez snort on, the tinny effect of his phone speaker doing nothing to hide the snark. “Okay, so go all in then.”

“But what if—”

“Babes, all I’m hearing are excuses. Why don’t you just talk to him? He’s obviously into you in some way, or he wouldn’t have even said anything about the video.”

“But I don’t know if he even had positive thoughts about the video, I left before he could say anything about it. What if he’s totally disgusted?”

“You’re not considering the facts though love, he said someone caught his interest, and—shush! Let me finish! Someone caught his interest and then he mentioned seeing you in that video. Sorry Hen but it sounds like you’re incorrect here.”

Unfortunately it did sound like Pez had a point. There was nothing really left to say, Henry had to admit defeat.

“Hazza, just talk to him. Please. I can feel your gay panic all the way in bloody London. I think you’ll be surprised by what he has to say.” 

“Fine, fine. I’ll text him. To meet up and talk tonight. Or something.”

“Yes! That’s the spirit! Let me know how it goes mate.”

Henry watched the call disappear from his screen to find he’d already received a text from Alex. 

Alex

[2:15 p.m.] Hey man, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable  earlier, it really wasn’t my intention, I hope you know that.

He worried the skin of his lip, crafting a response that would have him on edge all day.

TO: Alex

[3:05 p.m.] Hi Alex, I understand that wasn’t your intention,  you didn’t make me uncomfortable, I was just startled.

[3:06 p.m.] Can we talk later today? I’d like the opportunity  to maybe clear the air a little bit between us.

Alex

[3:07 p.m.] Oh thank god you’re alive

[3:07 p.m.] Yeah, wanna come to mine after work? 

TO: Alex

[3:08 p.m.] Yes I’ll swing by yours after I let David out for a walk.

---

He was stalling. Henry knew he was stalling, and he didn’t care, he did not want to face this head on, but he knew he had to.

After a moment outside, Henry knew he had to face Alex, and knocked on his door. As if he were standing right behind it, Alex appeared moments later.

“Alex.”

“Hi.”

They stood there looking at each other for a moment before Henry gestured at the door. “Do you mind if I—?”

Alex spurred to life. “Right, yeah, come in.” He stepped aside and let Henry in, leading him towards the living room. “Can I get you anything? A beer, glass of wine, hell I can whip up a margarita.”

Henry smiled. “I think perhaps we should have this conversation sober?”

“Yeah, good idea actually.” Alex moved to sit next to Henry on the couch, leaving more space between them than they usually kept. “If you don’t mind, can I start?” Henry motioned for Alex to go ahead. “I want to apologize. Before you shot the video it didn’t sound like you really wanted anyone to know what it was. I didn’t seek it out, I promise. Nora sent it to me, I think she knew I was bi before I did, but I really shouldn’t have opened it. I thought about ignoring it, but I didn’t, I violated your trust and your wishes, and I’m really, truly sorry for that.”

“Alex, it’s okay—” 

“But it’s not Hen. You told me not to watch it and I did anyway.”

Henry chuckled to himself. “I don’t recall telling you not to watch it, I think a part of me hoped you would before I… well we’ll get to that, but I didn’t explicitly say do not seek this out. People I know were bound to see it at some point or another, I’m not mad you saw it Alex.”

“You’re not?”

“Gods no. I’m more than a little embarrassed to tell you the truth. It was quite empowering, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that hot in my life, but…” Henry’s heart slammed in his chest, it was now or never. “Alex, I said, fuck I practically moaned your name.”

“A-are you embarrassed that you did it, or that it was—”

“Don’t even think about saying it, you know I’d never be embarrassed of how I feel about you.”

Alex’s breath hitched. “And how do you feel about me Henry?”

Henry’s fierce expression turned a little sad, and Alex braced himself for rejection. “You have to understand Alex, I don’t—I don’t do casual, and you just came out.”

Alex frowned. “Okay, when did I say I wanted casual?”

“Well I just thought—” 

“You thought wrong then. Yes, I’m attracted to you. Like mega, big time, holy shit attracted to you. But I also like you Henry. And yeah, I’m new to this whole bisexuality thing, your fucking performance sent me down a rabbit hole I’m honestly surprised I’d never been down before, but I’d also like to take you on dates, and hold your hand, and kiss you just because I want to.”

“You’re attracted to me?” A rosy blush graced his high cheekbones.

“Obviously. Have you not seen yourself? And in that video? Jesus Christ I thought I was going to combust.”

Henry shrugged. “I honestly haven’t watched the video. I’ve never felt so… free, or sexy, like I felt so good after filming that, but I’m worried I just look silly.”

Alex scooted closer on the couch, letting his fingers rest lightly on Henry’s to test the water. When Henry didn’t pull away, Alex moved to cover his whole hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Trust me, there’s no way you could look silly doing what you did. You looked so hot baby.”

A pleasant shiver rolls down Henry’s spine at the pet name, and a smile settles deeper into his features.

“For the record, I have feelings for you too, I have for a while, but you’ve just always been… straight.”

Alex looked down at their joined hands, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Well lucky for you I’m not straight then, right?”

“Hm, yeah.” Henry moved even closer to Alex, pressing their legs up against each other. “I have to ask, have you ever been with a man, in any way?”

Alex winced. “No… but also yes.”

“Oh?”

“A friend of mine, Liam, from high school. We used to, I dunno, get off together. We never actually like… touched each other, or kissed or anything, but there was nothing straight about it. And like… he came out to me as gay after college.”

Henry nods, a smile on his face. “Ah, I understand. And… you’d want to do things like kiss me, and touch me?”

With raised eyebrows, Alex gives Henry a once-over. “I said I wanted to, didn’t I baby? Maybe not… all at once, but I’d really like to kiss you if that’s okay.”

With a bashful smile, Henry nodded. “More than okay, love.” He leaned in, bumping his nose against Alex’s gently, before connecting their lips in a chaste kiss. “How’s that?” He whispered, lips brushing against Alex’s with every syllable.

“Fucking come here.”

Henry let out a squeak as Alex hoisted him into his lap, legs falling on either side of his hips, and hands going to his shoulders. They stared intently into each other’s eyes, reading their expressions for any signs it was going too far, before meeting in the middle in a heated kiss. Alex’s hands went immediately to Henry’s waist, running his fingers across the small of his back. Henry felt more confident to let his own hands wander into the hair he so desperately wanted to feel. It was soft and thick, and everything he’d dreamed of, and with a light tug, he was able to extract a deep groan from Alex’s throat.

Henry pulled away, gazing once again into Alex’s eyes with the silent question of everything okay? His question was answered moments later when Alex hooked his hands under Henry’s ass and dragged him closer. He was breathless; they were chest to chest, and he could feel the effects of their actions from the man beneath him as their dicks slotted together along with the rest of themselves. They rushed forward again, practically drunk on each other with this newfound friction between them, lips meeting in the middle in a frantic kiss. Alex’s tongue met Henry’s and suddenly a new layer of arousal joined the party. 

Alex pulled his lips away from Henry’s, peppering pecks across his cheek and down the column of his neck. He nipped a patch of skin at the juncture of Henry’s neck and shoulder, causing a yelp from the man above him, before soothing it with the heat of his tongue. As he worshiped the soft skin of Henry’s neck with his lips, teeth, tongue, Alex’s clever hands held a commanding grip on Henry’s ass, guiding him in a rough grind. 

A whimper from Henry made Alex perk up, and he met Henry’s eyes once again.

“Oh my god, is this okay?”

“Christ, is this okay, please don’t fucking stop.”

So much for taking it slow.

With a chuckle, Alex dutifully went back to work sucking love bites on Henry’s neck. Henry’s hips moved on their own, a string of soft groans and whimpers falling from his lips as he ground down on Alex’s erection. The friction between them was heavenly, and Alex was questioning why he hadn’t tried this sooner. 

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good.” Henry’s following groan was stifled by his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and suddenly, it was too much, and not enough for Alex. 

His grip on Henry’s ass tightened, and he used all his strength to stand up from their spot on the couch, Henry in his arms. His legs wound around Alex’s torso to keep himself from falling; he instantly felt lightheaded from the force of his blood rushing from his head to his dick. He knew Alex was strong, and worked out to keep his body in immaculate shape, but nothing could have prepared him for what it would be like to be manhandled by him. 

“Sorry, just… too much, I was like seconds away from cumming. Is this still okay?” 

Henry looked down pointedly at his own hard-on standing proudly between them before bashfully looking up at Alex.

“I guess it is, huh.”

Giggles left their throats, the two men finally having a moment to breathe after being so caught up in the moment. They giggled at the absurdity of it all, the fact that they’d danced around each other for so long, the fact that all of this came about because of some dumb (hot) video that Pez just needed him to be in. 

“Where do we go from here?”

Henry looked around Alex’s apartment. “Well where would you like to go from here? I mean we could continue on the couch, or maybe the countertop, or if you’re feeling naughty you could take me to bed.” 

Alex chuckled again, resting his head on Henry’s shoulder. “I mean us, where do we go from here?”

A smile graced his lips as Henry responded. “We’ll continue on, our standing Monday lunch dates, occasional Friday movie nights, and everything else in between, but we add the kissing, and the affection, and we just… don’t hold back what we’re feeling from each other. And we go from there. Let you get accustomed to being with a man, let our feelings develop. I’d like for you to be my boyfriend someday when you’re ready, I’d like to share my feelings with you, and ask that you communicate yours back. Sorry, that was terribly unsexy.”

“On the contrary sweetheart, open and honest communication with a side of promise for the future? Almost as sexy as contract law, talk dirty to me.” 

“Oh you cretin.” Henry swatted Alex’s chest, then leaned in for a chaste kiss. “We don’t have to go any further than you’re comfortable with tonight, but I really would like to continue what we were doing, love. Take me to bed?”

Alex’s smile was nowhere near shy. “Yeah baby, let’s go to bed.” 

[liliana264]

Becoming Lily

Summary: Lily Evans thought she knew who she was, but when her friendship with Severus Snape falls apart, she begins to question herself. She's already lost her sister and now her childhood best friend. Where did she go wrong?

As Lily struggles to make sense of herself and her place in the world, she decides to change. Through the painful process of growing up, she gains new friends, discovers who she really is, and falls in love along the way.

This is the story of how Lily Evans became Lily Potter, the woman who gave her life so that her son could live.

-----

Chapter 1 Preview:

“Come on, Lily,” he said. “Just talk to me please.”

“It’s the same as last week, Sev,” she said, finally speaking, a barely contained rage in her voice.

Sev frowned. “You’re always so upset these days,” he said. “I don’t understand why.”

She wheeled on him. “You’re joking, right? I’m mad about how Muggleborns are being treated in the news, here at Hogwarts, everywhere, and guess who happens to be Muggleborn!” she spat. “I think I have a right to be angry, Sev.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing that can be done about it,” he said.

She huffed. “Of course there is,” she said. “We may not be able to stop You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, but we can stop his views from being propagated here at school, starting with your new friends.” His housemates seemed to make it a point of calling her a Mudblood when Severus wasn’t around, and she’d told him as much.

Severus scowled. “I’ve told you, Lily, I’m only just now becoming their friend. I can’t just tell them to stop saying something they’ve heard their parents say for their whole lives. They still don’t understand, and I don’t want to risk my friendship with them,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of friendship,” she said. “It’s a matter of what’s right and what’s wrong, Severus. Calling someone a Mudblood and viewing someone as inferior just because of their birth is wrong!”

“I agree with you, Lily, you know that,” he said. “But it takes time to make people see that.”

“So, you’ve spoken with them?” she demanded.

He scowled and didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “It’s as if you don’t want me to have any friends.”

“I don’t understand why you want to be friends with people like that,” she said. “How does that even add up when your best friend is a Muggleborn? Or are you not interested in having me as a best friend anymore?”

“That’s uncalled for, Lily,” he said tightly, his face serious.

She sighed. He was right. She said as much. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I just-I’m so frustrated with everything right now,” she said. She could hear her voice crack as she spoke. “I’ve got to go. I need to get a few things together before dinner. I’ll see you later, Sev.”

Read on AO3.