#stop telling librarians how to build a table

[hitomisuzuya]

hello! i saw requests were open, may i request brat-tamer!wanderer with brat!reader? reader is an akademiya official (maybe the librarian?) and has been teasing and penting him up all day, and when wanderer confronts reader about going home and getting whats deserved, reader tells him they cant because their working hours arent over... so wanderer decides enough is enough and fucks reader somewhere semi-secluded in the house of daena? with some degradation & choking? (can add anything else if you want~) much love 🫶

wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. smut. degradation. choking. creampie. semi public sex. brat taming.

😳 i meant to write this yesterday, but bad weather, an exploded transformer and no power for like about 8 hours stopped me.

wanderer threw his head back, swallowing a moan as he rutted into your hand pumping on his cock. "that desperate for my cock, and attention, huh?" he hissed, grabbing your hand to wrap it firmer on his cock. he let out a shaky sigh of frustration when you shook his hand away, massaging your thumb on his leaking cock head.

"what's wrong, scara?"you cooed softly in his ear behind him, "you can't handle a little teasing?" you increased the pumps of your hand for a few moments, giving him the sweet friction of your hand that his cock craved.

he balled his hand into a fist. you were making his cock ache so much that he was losing his patience, "you teasing slut," he managed to finish. "we are leaving. now. you need to put in your place for," his words fell away into a soft moan tinged with further frustration as you stroked his cock feather light, "teasing me all fucking day."

being a library official that put returns back on the shelves, it was easy for you to teasing wanderer behind the bookshelves. "sorry, sweetheart, but work hours aren't over yet," you took your hand out of his shorts, and kissed him on the cheek. "i'll see you at home."

wanderer's mouth was agape as he turned to look at you, his eyes hooded into a glare that quite frankly made your pussy clench. "oh? i think i'll stick around here for awhile longer," there was a lot of weight behind his words.

you soon found that out. with a delighted smile, you thought you could continue teasing him for a few more hours. but boy, how wrong you are. you didn't expect for wanderer to turn the tables on you. and he wasn't going to give you an inch.

now the shoe was on the other foot. a few hours later, wanderer had you turned around, your hands gripping the bookshelf as he pounded his cock into you from behind. his fingers wrapped around your throat as you threw your head back, his cock head kissing into your sweet spot relentlessly. "you brat. did you think i was going to let you get away with this, whore?" his fingers prodded against your throat, tearing a moan that you couldn't swallow from you.

wanderer couldn't help but chuckle darkly. "you should stay quiet. or do you want everyone in the house of daena to see me impaling you on my cock?" he trapped your wrists together in his free hand, pinning them to the bookshelf, his cock making almost unholy squelching noises in and out of your pussy. "they will find out that their sweet, shy nerd who shelves returns is a total slut," his groan of pleasure as your cunt squeezed around his cock spoke volumes how good it felt to finally stretch your pussy apart.

you mewl as you push back into his cock. "ah! please. fuck me harder," you struggle to moan as best you could, shivering as his fingers tightened on your throat.

wanderer let go your wrists, bringing his hand down across your ass. "you brat, teasing me all day and thinking you can dictate how hard i fuck you," he obliged your pathetic plea, though. your cunt clenching around his cock just felt so fucking good.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your orgasm building up intense and fast the more he squeezed. but don't worry, he would choke you just enough to still hear you struggle to moan to for him. his cock only throbbed harder witnessing your body quake as his cock bullied your sweet spot.

wanderer smacked a hand across your ass again, soothing the sting with his palm. "what's wrong, hunny," he purred in a sweet, condescending voice. "can't handle it? i should've put you on your knees first for your insolence," nothing saying he couldn't ruin your throat once you got home later.

your pussy squeezed around his cock just right. he increased his pace, shuddering in pleasure as his cock roped cum inside of you. "tell me, slut, do you wanna cum?" he asked, licking the shell of your ear as his hips continued to smack against yours.

you nodded as best you could, eagerly pushing back against his cock as pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. his fingers tightened on your throat a little more, his hand drifting down to your clit. it was almost embarrassing how little it took to make you cum hard on his cock.

with a few calculated pinches and flicks to your throbbing clit, the knot of your orgasm shattered like glass. through the dizzying haze of pleasure, you are quite certain you would've screamed for him.

wanderer smirked behind you, rubbing your clit while he fucked you through your orgasm. your body felt limp and relaxed in his grip. submissive. "good girl," he praised, pulling out and licking his lips as cum seeped from your abused hole. "you know your place again."

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . SELF-HATING IS THE NEW HORNY.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MINORS DNI 18+ | word count — 1.8k | warnings — fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex, fingering (f receiving), degradation, reader cries a tiny tiny bit like barely, light objectification, established purely sexual relationship | author’s note — everyone involved is 18. inspired by @hanasnx’s thoughts on Cormac when i was sending them unhinged anons about him

“Thought I was fucking gross?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Cormac’s breathy laugh into your mouth sends electricity shooting down into your stomach, and lower. His lips against yours are hot, your fingers twisting roughly in the front of his shirt and his hands closed around your waist in a vicelike grip that’s sure to leave bruises. In the library of all places—which becomes glaringly obnoxious when his teeth close around your lip roughly and you have to suppress a moan. His chest is hard against yours, his arms are muscular from quidditch, and you can’t physically get any closer to him, but good lord you’re trying your best.

He was fucking gross. You hated the way he talked, and laughed, and followed you around in the hallway. The way his eyes constantly raked up and down your body. The way they zeroed in on your little skirt with zero shame in a way that told you he was only thinking about what was underneath it. And more than anything, you hated the way your pussy throbbed when he acted like that. It was obnoxious—stupid fucking perverts like him should be drowned in a barrel, not rewarded for it.

Yet here you were, grabbing his hand and shoving it down the front of your panties to relieve some of the pressure building, with the way Cormac grins only making it unbelievably worse. He presses you harder against the table behind you, and you’re practically gushing on his fingers immediately.

“Ohhhh my god—” you mumble, mouth going slack against his as his fingers find your clit and start moving immediately, fast. Your fingers tangle into his curls, his face dropping down to the crook of your neck as he starts licking your flesh, sucking in a way that makes you so weak you can’t even muster the willpower to tell him not to leave hickeys. Your whole body betrays your common sense as you moan loudly instead, and his fingers circle your clit faster. Your legs start to buckle, but it doesn’t make a difference with the way you’re leaned against him—he’s holding you up at this point.

He laughs at you, making zero effort to cover your mouth or help you at all. It’s up to you to bite down on your lip to stop another whine from slipping out. Regardless of how far back you were tucked away behind the library shelves, who knew when the librarian would wander past. Maybe it would be fine if she found you with someone respectable, like Cedric Diggory or some other nicer Hufflepuff—not Cormac McLaggen. You’d fucking die of shame if anyone saw the way your hips chased his hand, grinding your pussy against his fingers like your whole body was starving for him.

Muffled from the way his mouth is attached to your neck, he mumbles, “Jesus, you’re such a whore. You’ll take anything you can get.”

He stops moving his hand entirely and yanks it away, making you whine obnoxiously. Cormac rolls his eyes, though he still can’t hide the smug look on his face. He grabs your face with one hand, the one that was just under your skirt, squishing your cheeks together and smearing your own juices across your skin. You know you’ll only get what you want if you play along with his stupid fantasies, so you stay limp in his hand, only furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Mm, just wanted to make sure I remember what you look like this way. You’re such a bitch, I never get to see you all pathetic.”

You make a sound of protest and thank god his hand isn’t down your pants anymore. If he felt the way you’d immediately soaked through your panties, he’d never let you live it down.

Ignoring the way he always has to run his mouth when you’re trying to get your fill of fucking him and move on, your hand finds the front of his pants, fumbling with his buckle. Shockingly, he lets you undo it yourself, and he instead closes his giant hands around your thighs and lifts you onto the table behind you.

Though he makes fun of you for wanting it so bad, he looks painfully hard in his slacks. When you finally finish with his zipper and free him from his pants and his boxers, he inhales through gritted teeth. The sound and the momentary wild look in his eyes makes all of your blood pool in your head and your pussy, you’re nearly lightheaded for a moment.

It doesn’t help that he’s big. An asshole like Cormac doesn’t deserve to be blessed with a cock that looks like that. Heavy, thick, perfectly curved upwards in a way that hits exactly where it’s needed every time. You’re staring at it, drool starting to collect at the corner of your mouth as you size up the veins that run all the way down his shaft, and the only time he slows down what he’s doing is to give you a few moments to marvel at it, like you always do. Watching you stare at his dick like a Christmas present you just unwrapped fills him with a blinding pride that you’d rather kill yourself than admit you’re the cause of—the second best feeling he’ll experience today.

When he decides you’ve had enough of the sight of it, he claims the first best feeling. Regardless of the fact that you could probably use a few moments to adjust to his length, he sheathes himself inside you in one movement. It claws a noise out of you that’s so guttural Cormac claps a hand over your mouth immediately, and the rest of it is nothing more than a muffled scream of pleasure. Your head hits the bookshelf and it hurts, but the pain dissolves away as he starts moving inside of you, his other hand digging into your hip to hold you steady.

“Your pussy’s trying to fucking strangle me.” He groans into your ear, his breath sending chills down your spine. It’s stupid, but he’s right. He starts on a fast pace and you can’t control the way you spasm, body going limp in his arms except for the way you clench around him.

“You missed me, huh? Fuck.” His lips stay at the shell of your ear to taunt you, and you can’t quip back like you normally would—both from his hand firmly pressed over your mouth, and from the way his thrusts are turning your brain into putty. He can barely keep it together to taunt you, his teeth are already digging into his bottom lip, he’s squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to keep it together. You whine breathily into his hand, and that does not help.

His hand that was firmly digging into your hip moves underneath your knee—for a moment you think he’s actually cupping it gently, before he shoves it upwards to get a deeper angle instead. The low groan that escapes him is euphoric, and whatever scream you try to let out gets lost in his hand. You can tell he doesn’t give a shit what noises you’re making, or really how you feel at all. Cormac is using you to get off at this point, you can tell from the way he’s rutting into you senselessly, burying his face in your neck to muffle the string of grunts and deep moans pouring out of him. Fucking loudmouth. You can’t bring yourself to care, though, because every selfish movement of his is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

This new angle is making his pelvis slam into your clit with every haphazard thrust, and your eyes are rolling back into your head, your chest heaving up and down as the pressure builds and drives you to the edge of fucking insanity. Wild-eyed, it almost freaks you out how turned on you are by him. Not just the way he’s fucking you like a man starved, but by his hair brushing against your face, the baritone vibrations of his moans against your skin, even the way he smells. God, you were drunk on him—on Cormac. You needed to be put down.

“Holy fuck” he breathes through gritted teeth into your ear, “Oh, fuck—you feel so fucking good—squeezing me so fucking good—you love my cock, don’t you?” He’s babbling, and he moans as he feels you clench around him in response. He always runs his mouth when he’s about to cum, and the way he’s thrusting into you, slamming into you in a way that’s sure to leave bruises on the insides of your poor thighs, gives him away. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears beginning to form at the corners as he hammers into you with senseless abandon.

Your release washes over you suddenly, your back arching harshly and pushing your chest even further into him as you scream into his hand. Your pussy clenches around him wildly, and he shoves his face even harder into your heck to silence the long groan that escapes him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” though it seemed like he’d barely been paying attention to you, the feeling of your orgasm around him sends him over the edge immediately, and his hips stutter as he empties his load into your still-fluttering pussy.

It’s still for a moment, the aftershocks of your orgasms making you shudder against eachother. He takes his hand away from your mouth and you take a big breath, panting in sync with him. Your eyes close for a moment as you catch your breath, his head is still tucked into the crook of your neck and you can feel him starting to soften. The weight of him against your body, the warmth, it’s almost nice.

Then you remember it’s Cormac, and the self-hatred comes flooding back with a fury.

“Did you just cum inside me?” You demand half-heartedly. It’s a rhetorical question, you can already feel it starting to leak out of you as he pulls out slowly.

Cormac just nods into your neck, and you roll your eyes, pushing him to get him off of you. He moves when you prompt him, tucking himself back into his pants as you huff at the wet warmth on your thighs. You were the one with cleaning up to do, of course, and you were gonna have to walk all the way back to your dorm with him leaking out of you.

“Same time next week?” He finally says breathlessly, and you shoot him a poisonous glare as you tug your skirt back down.

“I hope you trip and die walking back to the common room.”

Cormac points a finger at you. “Don’t talk to the future father of your child like that.”

“Oh, my god.” You shove his chest with both hands, hard, and he literally doesn’t move. His laugh echoes off the bookshelves as you turn and hurry away, hand reaching up to scratch at your neck like you could rip the feeling of his mouth off if you tried hard enough.

Definitely same time next week, but he did not need to know that.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ two lovers entwined, pass me by

"and heaven knows i'm miserable now" —the smiths

content: leo valdez x roman! reader

╰┈▸ back cover: what if leo gets a little too tired of being the seventh wheel, wait- ninth wheel? (and meets a girl who is a d1 hater)

╰┈▸ warnings: leo and yn dont hate hate couples its a joke okay (unless its not a joke anymore pls give them love-) cursing, maybe ooc reyna? NOT canon compliant, a bit of angst but overall its silly

librarian's annotations: this is now my fav work if u guys dont like it then dont tell me pls 😣

leo was tired. sick and tired of everyone's public displays of affection! can they at least have the decency to romance each other in the privacy of their own rooms!? he did not build ten of them for no reason! there was absolutely no way they needed to suck face at the dining table. like, right in front of his food!?

okay, he was being a bit dramatic. the most everyone was willing to do in public was hold hands. and maybe share a kiss. but that was a kiss too much! and wasn't reyna supposed to off doing (cool) praetor shit!? ever since her and jason made up, leo has not been able to catch a break! can they stop eyefucking each other already!? (they are simply staring into one another's eyes)

"guys." leo swept his gaze over the dining table. he was seated at the end, giving him an unwarranted view of everyone paired up. apparently, love is also deaf, since no one turned their head to him.

"guys!" leo raised his voice. would he be heard over the sound of their unspoken conversations? heads finally spun to look at him, as if they just remembered he was there.

"can you guys like, eat? or do this-" he gestured widely. "elsewhere? and by elsewhere i mean not in front of me."

they all managed to give him the exact same look that was a mix of embarrassment at being called out, and something that said "poor leo, he's so single!" oh come on! jason made it even worse by putting a—what was supposed to be—comforting hand on his arm. "it's okay, leo. i'm sure you'll find someone one day."

this was not funny at all. and leo would know; he's the funniest guy ever! he snatched his arm away with an utterly aghast expression. "ew! get your pity off of me!" he shuddered, playing up the theatrics and wiped his forearm over jason, giving him his couple-cooties back.

the blond reeled back, laughing at his best friend's antics. "what was that for!?"

"don't act like you don't know!" he sneered accusingly.

nights were always the worst for leo. they were quiet, and not the calm, peaceful quiet when he would stay out and watch the sun set, the time before his happiness came to an end. it was an empty quiet, devoid of the laughter he caused, his thoughts become louder to fill up the silence.

(it was night when his mother died, when he had burned down the warehouse. when he had killed her. it was night when he awoke to the front door slamming, the sounds of drunken yells and glass splintering were backing instruments in an interlude of impending misery as he waits for the sun to shine once again. it was night when he ran away, with nothing more than his heavy heart and some left over change.)

leo's thoughts ran rampant with the feelings he kept in a glass box. always there, always seen, very fragile yet rarely opened. sometimes he would shake it a little too hard, and it would come crashing down like a bottle of alcohol, spilling insecurities instead of wine.

tonight was one of those times.

he doesn't know what brought it on. well, he lied; it was the sight of everyone at dinner, looking happy and complete without him. but he was used to it. it shouldn't have bothered him this much. but the more he let it stew, the more it hurt. leo loved his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of resentment at how easy it was for them to make up, make out. hell, even piper got a girlfriend, a mortal one at that! between traveling and fighting monsters, he didn't even know that was possible. what about him was so unlovable?

as he tossed and turned to shake off the voices in his head, he knew that this would be another sleepless night.

today was going to be a good day; leo could feel it in his gut. the skies were clear, there were no monsters coming to wake them up, and the engine was running smoothly. he had time to work on his little projects all day today! he hummed a tune as he walked to the engine room, or his work room for today, and spun a wrench in his hand. maybe he had a little skip to his saunter, a pep in his step. something about today was just so-

his gut lied to him. (maybe he was hungry?) the wrench clattered to the ground as he came to an abrupt stop. "oh. my. gods." leo paused between every word to further emphasize his disdain.

the sight was scandalous, completely and irrevocably scandalous. like, i-need-to-wash-my-brain-out scandalous. and leo was so not being dramatic this time.

percy and annabeth flinched away from each other in a half-asleep fumble, trying to act as if they had not just been caressing each other's bodies mere moments ago. (okay, maybe he was being dramatic again) this wasn't even a romantic place to do that! and leo would know, he's such a romantic guy. what was the purpose of his hard work of making bedrooms if they were just going to sneak off and desecrate his beloved engine room!?

"frank catching you two once wasn't enough?" leo huffed and bent down to pick up his dropped tool. "now i have to see the two of you fraternizing in my domain!?"

"that's not even the proper word-" annabeth had tried to hold back, but the urge to correct him was too much.

"i don't care! shoo!"

leo was so done. his perfect day had been ruined first thing in the morning! now it was late, he was tired, and he was finally heading back to his room to get some much needed rest after holing himself up all day working on random knick-knacks. a soft noise caught his attention. it was dim, the lights low since him and annabeth wanted to save electricity. he felt the familiar dread in his stomach. there was absolutely no way this could be happening.

"we shouldn't do this here..." wait, was that reyna?

"i know.. but i'm gonna miss you when you leave." no. no. NO. the direction the two very very familiar voices were coming from was right in front of the hallway to his bedroom. "please?"

leo was torn. he didn't want to walk in on them, but he couldn't spend another night in the engine room! he wanted his comfy bed right now!

he slapped a hand over his eyes and stepped heavily on the wooden floorboards, giving them a much needed warning. he heard the sound of fabric and shuffling, a satisfied smirk gracing his face.

"are you guys decent?" leo asked, still squeezing his eyes shut under his hand.

jason huffed, no doubt red in the face. "it's not like we weren't in the first place."

leo dared to open his eyes, finding that not only was his face red, but there were bruises starting to dapple his neck. ew. he did not want to think about how that came to be. "uh huh. well go and canoodle somewhere not in front of my room, please and thank you."

"canoodle?"

"reyna i told you, i don't wanna go!" you grumbled akin to a toddler, despite your status as the centurion of the first cohort. you took off your armor, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. "i don't need to see you and mister perfect canoodling in front of me!"

the praetor snorted and shook her head. "'canoodling?' you're the second person i've heard use that word this week." she paused, a thoughtful expression passing over her face. "you guys would get along well, i think. anyways, i'm not asking as a friend, i'm ordering you as praetor."

oh that was so unbelievably low! "what!? reynaa!" you stretched out the end of her name in an embarrassingly childish whine. good thing it was just the two of you here, otherwise no one would let you live it down. "i thought they were supposed to be going soon anyway!?"

"you heard me. and no, they're staying for a couple more nights. something about the engine being broken again?" she shrugged, an amused glimmer breaking through her usually serious front. "besides, we have a lot to discuss about the whole gaea thing, and who better to bring than you? you're my right hand woman."

you tried to hide a smile at her words, but sweet-talk always won you over. "ugh, fine. i guess i'll go."

something was up. you knew that from the moment she asked you to "wear something other than purple for once." who even owned anything but purple!? heck, you didn't even know reyna had different clothes outside of uniform! was that even allowed? you'd only ever seen her wear the same shirt as you, and a toga if the event accounted for it.

you sifted through your wardrobe, digging through masses of violet and coming up blank. oh well, guess its uniform time again. not that you minded all that much.

"you are changing." reyna shook her head, giving you a disappointed look only a mother could offer. this wasn't even a big deal! what was so wrong with your shirt? you rather liked purple!

"but why!? what better way to represent rome than this?" you gestured to your clothing. "aren't we talking business? also this is like the only shirt i have."

"because-"

"you just wanna look all pretty for your boyfriend." you cut her off, faking a gag. "doesn't mean i have to look pretty."

her shoulders tensed and you drew back, already anticipating her near-fatal blow.

"reyna? you know i was just kidding- OW!"

"-wait this is so my color actually." you checked yourself in her mirror. who knew reyna had fashion sense? although not much was required for a simple shirt and jeans.

she nodded and got to her feet. "suits you well. consider it my apology."

"huh? apology for what? for hitting me? aww you're so-"

"no. for what's about to happen to you." a solemn expression took over her face. she was well aware of your exaggerated hatred for couples. maybe you were just a bitter single, but she wasn't about to tell you that. she hoped you would soon be taken (not literally) and stop harassing her for her romantic escapades.

that was ominous. should you be scared for your life? "what the hell does that even mean?"

oh. now you knew exactly what it meant. as the two of you boarded the argo ii, she was immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by jason, as if he couldn't bear to let her go ever again. you almost threw up at the sight. how could your beloved best friend be reduced to a lovesick schoolgirl at the touch of a man!? a man that had forgotten her! (and remembered, and apologized, and confessed his love- okay, you were starting to see her side quite clearly)

you turned your head away entirely, not wanting to see all that. but everywhere you looked, a new couple seemed to pop up. it was like your worst nightmare come to life. percy and annabeth? piper and some girl? frank and hazel? holding hands? since when were they a thing!? sweet hazel and shy frank? they were—admittedly—adorable, but still!

your only respite was leo looking just as exasperated as you. he must have it way worse; he had to live here with all of them. you shuddered. you were glad you weren't in his place right now.

you stood awkwardly to the side as they reunited. do they do this all the time? and everyone's just cool with it? maybe they can relate, with their taken-ness and all. ugh.

leo peeked at you curiously from the corner of his eye. your expression was as clear as day, face scrunched up in disdain as he traced your gaze to the practically infinite amount of couples onboard. he nodded internally, knowing exactly how you were feeling. but hey, he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you stay unhappy on his ship, not if he could help it!

"hey there," leo said smoothly, or as smooth as he could be after he had almost tripped on the crack between the floorboards. "i'm leo."

finally! someone had the decency to entertain you. "i know you! you're the guy that made octavian throw a hissy fit for firing at new rome!" shit, was that a weird thing to say for a first time interaction? too late now.

the brunette cringed at the mention of his possession. "uh, that's not what most people know me by, but yeah..?"

"oh? and what do most people know you by?" consider yourself intrigued.

leo perked up at your question, having been given an amazing opportunity to charm you. "well obviously it's my rugged good looks, and ingenious inventions, and-"

"we're starting dinner now!" jason called out from the dining table, before recieving an elbow to the gut from reyna and a harsh whisper from piper.

you were lost in your thoughts, zoning out as everyone spoke around you. leo's actually kinda... a tiny part of you popped the idea into your head. he was kinda, indeed. gods, i hate couples. a much larger portion of your mind seemed to yell. do you, or do you just hate being single? you asked yourself. huh. well it's probably-

a cough to your left caught your attention. it was leo. when his brown eyes met yours, you couldn't see a trace of that same boy who was described a traitor and a freak for firing at new rome. maybe something really did possess him.

"wanna know how i built this ship?" he asked excitedly. it was clear that the argo ii was his pride and joy.

"yeah!" you grinned, his cheerfulness rubbing off on you. who cares if he fired on new rome anymore? that was so last tuesday.

"so first, i had this cool metal dragon..."

unbeknownst to you, annabeth whispered across the table to reyna. "i think it's working?"

so, the dinner wasn't anything about business. you did learn a ton from leo though! that was business enough wasn't it? still, you couldn't help the pang of guilt that came with not getting anything work-related done. it was practically in your genes as a roman.

"y/n! you should stay the night!" hazel encouraged from the sofa across you. she was met with choruses of yeahs! and you shoulds! by the other girls, including reyna.

"oh!" you laughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely turn them down. as much as you would love to stay and get to know them, you had a job to do. even if that job was getting all the legionnaires in your cohort to bed by curfew. (like seriously, the amount of times you've had to reel in couples you caught sneaking out was crazy. maybe that's where your hatred came from.) "i'd love to, but i have... centurion duties and all that."

"but reyna has praetor duties and she's staying," annabeth argued. her gray eyes shone with an intensity you only saw on the battlefield. what was going on?

that was new information to you. "you're staying?" you questioned your friend, who looked away with a hint of embarrassment.

"jason's leaving soon," she coughed. after being apart for so long, you could hardly blame her for wanting a little more time with him. "but that's besides the point. you should stay."

you crossed your arms, trying to come up with another excuse. "uh, i don't have clothes to change into?" it was a weak attempt, but you hoped it would work.

"i can lend you some," hazel piped up from the side, obviously eager to make you stay.

aw. she was always so nice. but you had a feeling there was an underlying motive you just couldn't figure out.

you tried again. "i don't think there's a spare room for me to sleep in."

"there's an empty one by leo," piper pointed out.

well, that was it. they refuted all your claims and left you no choice but to stay. you heaved a sigh and relented. "fine."

you weren't sure how it happened, but you ended up with leo again. so much for girls night. but you couldn't complain, leo was good company. he never let the silence stew between you guys for too long, always switching between one topic to the next, until somehow, you were both talking shit about your pathetic love lives and the insufferable ones of those around you.

"you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught these people! i swear, they can never keep it in their pants for more than two seconds! it's like, trauma at this point!" you rolled your eyes, absolutely abhorring the new legionnaires in your cohort.

leo laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. he looked over his shoulder, before leaning in as if telling you a secret. "like two days ago, i caught jason and reyna making out! he had hickies all over his neck!"

you gasped at the scandalous behavior of the two most serious people you knew. "what!? no way..."

the curly-haired boy nodded vehemently. "yes way! it was so gross."

eventually, it was time for the both of you to say your goodnights. leo led you to your room, giving you a cheeky wink before he retreated into his own. you shut the door, and threw yourself into bed.

maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, maybe it was the fact that you were way up in the air, or maybe it was leo running circles around your mind. whatever the reason was, you couldn't sleep. or maybe you chose not to, just to have an excuse to see the stars. the time when they were out was the only time you'd allow yourself a break.

you crept out of the room, careful not to make noise as you made your way out onto the deck. the air was crisp, a gentle bite against your skin. it seemed that the god of the sky was on your side tonight, for the clouds were nowhere to be seen, only the full moon of artemis and the familiar stars shone. you made yourself comfy on the floor, leaning back against the railing as you took a deep breath.

it would be another night of no sleep for leo, that much he could tell. he groaned into his pillow. he couldn't tell if it was the new crush already forming on you, or his angst from a few days before. regardless, his nervous energy made him get up and pace the room, fidgeting with a screw he found on the floor. with footsteps light, he traveled the small area, before something told him to get some fresh air. he obliged. it was better than being in his stuffy room.

as he went up the stairs to the upper level, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. leo's curiosity spiked. he walked closer, the image of you coming into view. your eyes locked on his, a soft smile gracing your face at seeing him. "hey."

"hey." leo dipped his head in greeting, and sat down beside you. "mind if i sit here?"

you shook your head and returned your gaze to the starry night sky, a comfortable silence settling between you two, with only the tapping of leo's fingers against the floor filling the air. it was different, being alone with him. he seemed different. he was quieter, more mellow.

"i hate nights." leo blurted out, breaking the peace you two had shared.

"really?" you asked softly. he braced himself with the condescending remark that was sure to come after, but it never came. instead he received a genuine interest from you. "why's that?"

the boy felt his heart beat a little faster. was he really going to tell you, a girl he barely knew, his whole life story? perhaps it was the late hour that made him want to spill everything out. or the feeling that stirred whenever he looked at you, like magnets attracting. and so he did.

and you listened without any interruption, never followed up with that remark he was waiting for, never gave him the pity he hated. instead, you followed up with your own story.

"i love nights. for me, it's the only time i really feel free. when everyone else is asleep, and it's just you and the stars. away from all the rules." you looked up. they seemed so close from here, way up in the floating ship. they twinkled like glitter, flashing heys and hellos and nice to see you agains. it was beautiful.

leo admired you the way you did the stars. they reflected off your eyes and made your irises shine, the same way fire casted a diffused glow on everything around it. maybe nights weren't so bad after all, if every one of them would be spent with you.

and when you leaned against him to rest your head on his shoulder, whispering secrets into his ear? oh, caligula would have blushed. (leo knows he sure did)

"operation get leo a girlfriend, complete!"

"i thought we were calling it operation get y/n a boyfriend?"

"whatever. operation leoy/n is a success!"

"...you know we can hear you guys, right?"

[kaq3yma]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 [isagi yoichi]

qeena's brief note: yayyy another drabble to feed my (and isagi girlies) delulus (๑￫ܫ￩) i had this idea during my outing with my mom and i write this in public! i repeat. in public. and i wrote this less than an hour too wippieeeee (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و everybody say congratulations qeena bskshsnshek jkjk anyways, another drabble for my sayangsss so please tell me how i did, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated 💖🌺 thank you sayangsss and happy reading xoxo.

The bus stops at the bustling town square and you gather your things to leave. Once you got out, you didn't wait but to hurry your way up to the library across of you on the other side of the road. It's a bright day, sunny but warm. It's not too hot nor too cold so you are able to dress lightly. The library situate in between two coffee shops so you decided to get yourself a drink before you begin your study session.

You get your drink and enter the spacious building. A woman dressed in formal dress greet you by the counter. You write your name on a book like usual and goes to a vacant table. You wouldn't want to waste any of your time leisuring so you quickly take out your laptop, notebook and your textbooks to begin your study.

Too engrossed on your study, you failed to notice a person taking a seat beside you. Only when you stretch your arms wide did you noticed him because your elbow accidentally hit his face "Oh, my God- I'm so sorry!" You frantically apologized until you notice it was Isagi "Yeah, what a nice way to greet me..." He adjusted his nose, hoping you didn't break it. You look at him, now eyebrows furrowing "What're you doing here?" You questioned him and he lift his bag, "I was gonna study as well."

You stare at him as he take out his stuff to study alongside you. You prop one hand, the corner of your eyes crease ever-so slightly as you smile at him "Your parents nag you with chores too?" He huff, taking out his pen and shake his head "I tend to be distracted when I study at home..."

You've been with him nearly two months and that's a news to you. He turn his head at you, laughing quietly as to not get kick out right off the moment he just came "Study, Y/n." You scoff, looking away from him and grumbled a soft "whatever". However, when you finally fixate on your laptop before you, it was Isagi's turn to look, grin when you look so focus yet troubled. Your brows creased and mindlessly, he caress the creasing spot to ease your brow. You didn't say anything, just stare back at him with prominent blush start to appear all over your face.

Once you recontinue, Isagi went to mess with your attention again "Your nails..." You look at him, then at your nails "What about it?" He lets out a sheepish grin "They're shiny, you put on a nail polish or sum?" You retreat your hand from his grasp and examine them yourself "No...? I did buffed them a little bit last night." He grin, taking your hand once more to speculate.

"Pretty," You snort, very loudly but accidentally and that earns you a quick glare from the old, wrinkling librarian. Isagi turn to you, face funny "What?" He deadpanned and you laugh "You're so cute!" He jolt from his seat and fell the ground. As if that was not enough, his foot knock over your drink and the whole table is wet.

The old librarian storm over you both "Pack your stuffs and leave, now." Everyone's staring and you won't lie, this is very much more embarrassing than times you had to cross roads.

"Your fault we get kicked out." He look at you, pretended to be hurt and pouting "It's okay, we can go again next time." You hit his arm "And you almost crash my laptop!" He look at your wet bag consisting your laptop "Almost, not entirely." You smack his arm again and this time, he winced "Okay fine, I'm sorry...!"

"To make it up to you, I'll buy you snacks, okay?" He smile, picking your hand and grasp it before dragging you far from the town square to a much secluded area filled with tranquility. He even got you snacks, lot of them, as promised. It's safe to say you've become not too haunted by the embarrassing accidents in the library earlier.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open. all rights reserved goes to @kaq3yma on tumblr.

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

Ok now i'm thinking about Robin again bc of that post... And Robin and my PC's relationship.

Like imagine you have a friend. She's your best friend in the whole world. You grew up together and have always been there for each other. You were never as brave as her who kept picking fights on your behalf, but you were the only one who could give her some comfort, who ever even really saw that tough girl cry. As you guys grew up, though, things started to change.

You have always slept in the same bed and cuddled up together, right? But now it feels so different. You notice your heart speeds up when she hugs you. One day you wake up and she's staring at you in a way that makes you blush and hold her tighter to hide your face.

You know she'll always protect you and pick fights on your behalf just like when you were kids, though, so for a while you hide it when things get bad. You have to make money so you sell your most beloved belongings. She notices and for a moment you fear she's going to do something stupid, but she just takes on your burden and happily tells you you don't have to worry anymore.

You realize you're in love with her. You might always have been in love with her. You think about all your moments together, and wonder if she could feel the same.

When you decide to tell her, though, she shows up with a girlfriend. A scrawny girl from her English class who everyone avoids at the hallways.

"She's bullied a lot." Your friend says, showing her savior complex. "I had to help her."

"Did you have to date her, though?" You try not to let the jealousy show in your voice. "I mean, do you even like her?"

Your friend stays quiet, and that's the end of the conversation as she presses to load your save on Castlevania. You don't mention her girlfriend again.

Then, she starts showing up a bit later to the class you have together. She's always at the library, and you naively hoped that she had just been picking up her studies since she had always been a slacker. Key word, naively. Once the librarian's assistant kisses her cheek on her way out of the canteen, you snap. You leave her behind and don't even care when her weird, jealous girlfriend slips on your table and starts clinging to your friend. You just go to your class, pretending none of this is real.

That doesn't last, and you knew it wouldn't. She knocks on your door at night, looking weary from her waitressing job and saying she was worried you wouldn't let her in.

"She's a friend." She explains, talking about the librarian's assistant. "Like, come on, you know how religious she is. She wouldn't even look at me that way..."

You don't buy it, but you find it strange that she's bringing it up to you. You ask her why she's even explaining herself, and for the first time in forever, you see her hesitate.

Then, she kisses you. It could have been the best day of your life, and it briefly was, but then you remember she still has a girlfriend. She tells you that the note you put in her room and then took away as soon as you came back from school, she read it. She knows how you feel, and she feels the same. She was just afraid of it seeming like she was taking advantage of your reliance on her. You could cry, then.

It's only after you two let out all of the tension that had been building up inside of you both for years that she shatters your world.

"I'm not breaking up with her." She tells you, no longer hesitating after you ask if her girlfriend isn't going to be upset if they break up. At your flabbergasted expression, she continues. "She needs me."

"What about me?" You allow yourself to be selfish again. Don't you need her?

"...You know me." She smiles weakly. "You're always first to me. But... I can't let people push her around again. I just can't."

You wonder how having her tongue deep inside that girl's throat does anything to stop the bullies, but you don't have the courage to say it with your chest. You've never been as brave as her. That's the end of the conversation, and you know you'll ruin it, the thing you've dreamed of for so long, if you push your luck too far.

So you try to make amends. You can have her every day, most of the time, you try to remind yourself, and her so-called girlfriend only clings to her for a few minutes during lunch time. That's bearable. You can do it. You can do it to sleep with her every night, to kiss her every morning. Keeping that girl safe is important to her, so you bear it even if you don't get it.

So you bear it. You bear it when she definitely seems much closer to the librarian's assistant now, as they leave you to stare at her girlfriend stab food with a fork during lunch and then you see them in hallway as they giggle with their arms intertwined, sharing a milkshake like you used to do with her. You even bear it when she starts getting friendlier with that one bully who has always made your lives hell. And you bear it as you see her girlfriend taking your place in her bed as you try to slip into her room, knowing you can't say anything about it.

You wish you could stop, but it's all you can do. She still gives you strength, she tells people off when they make fun of you for dressing like a boy (like yourself, you try to say, even if no one listens), she protects you from worse threats on the daily. Bearing it is maybe the least you can do.

You turn your anger outwards. The first time you hit someone with a book for giving her pain, she looks at you differently. Maybe that was what you were missing all along. When you slip into her room that night, she seems much eager to have your body as close as possible to her own.

You stare at the little owl her girlfriend gave her, and disgust that can only be washed away by her sweet kisses fills your mouth. You really wish you didn't have to bear it, especially not in your own home. You wish that creepy girl had to be the one to see the person she loved clinging to someone else, for a change.

Ah, yes, how you wish she'd see it.

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Covetous | Chapter 11

Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which (I feel like it's obvious which)

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9] [chapter 10]

[read on ao3]

tws: alcoholism, homelessness. FOR THIS CHAPTER: references to self-harm, suicidal ideation.

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

Belle drove to her flat in silence. She didn’t know what to say to Nosty, and he didn’t seem up for talking, so she handed him her purse with a vague gesture toward the water and food, buckled herself in, and drove.

Every time she glanced at him, he was sipping the water or eating a new snack, and that gave her some peace. She didn’t know how much they fed prisoners in the holding cell, but Nosty looked thinner than usual. Instead of a shirt, his torso was bandaged under his leather jacket. 

She wanted to ask. She wanted to ask everything. But he’d barely spoken a word to her since saying her name, and she wouldn’t push. The time for pushing, for answers, would come eventually.

At least she’d gotten hold of one of the uni students who worked the weekends to come relieve Joseph. She didn’t know how he would get home, but he was sober now. He could figure it out.

She parked in front of her building, and Nosty hissed getting out of the car. What did the bandages hide? Later. She’d find out later.

His hand touching her elbow stopped her at the front door. She licked her lips, then turned to him. She had always felt so much smaller than him, but standing before him in his dirty bandages with a circle of blood that she hoped didn’t cover a bullet wound, she dwarfed him. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice a barely-audible rumble. It wasn’t what she needed to hear, but it was a start. She touched his hand, then turned to the door.

“Of course,” she said. “I would never leave you.”

She didn’t want to see his reaction to this, so she busied herself unlocking the door. They climbed the stairs, Nosty lagging behind, and when she checked on him, his jaw was clenched in pain. What had happened?

“Almost there,” she said. “And then you can clean up and I’ll make some tea.”

If she focused on caring for him, she wouldn’t have to focus on anything else. And more than either herself or Joseph, Nosty needed to be cared for.

“I don’t need tea,” he said. He sounded so dull, like he’d taken sleeping pills and never quite woken up. Maybe he was on some sort of pain medication?

When Belle finally got inside, Nosty stopped in the doorway, looking around. She tried to see it from his point of view—his book still on the end table, two coffee mugs and two breakfast plates just visible through the kitchen doorway, two blankets tossed over the couch. 

He shut the door behind him and stepped toward the living room. Nosty was hypervigilant and observant—there was no way he wasn’t connecting the dots.

“I don’t know where my shirt is,” was all he said when he opened his mouth.

“I have shirts.” She had to look at his bandage now. “How often are you supposed to change your dressing?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Doctors didn’t tell me fuck-all before sending me off to sleep in the fucking dirt.” 

She wanted to pull him to her, wrap him in her arms and tell him that she’d go to every doctor who ever wronged him and personally set them straight, but instead, she held out her hand for his. She feared he wouldn’t take it, that he would again leave her waiting for him, but he closed his fingers around hers and allowed her to lead him to the bathroom.

It was a small blessing that Joseph’s towel was already in the hamper, leaving no evidence that he’d ever showered there. Nosty ran a finger along the counter edge, still holding her hand in his other. 

“Your flat’s so clean.” He breathed deeply, and then winced in pain.

“I’ll go get bandages and tape while you shower,” she said. 

He squeezed her hand, watching her carefully, and she thought he might ask her to stay. She wanted to stay, but how else was she going to get supplies?  Joseph couldn’t bring them—he didn’t have a car.

“Fine.” He didn’t let go of her hand, and she looked up at him. Was he going to kiss her? 

More importantly, if he did, would she stop him?

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said.

He dropped her hand, letting his knuckles linger by hers. “I’m not okay,” he said. “I’ve never been okay.”

If he did kiss her right then, she would forgive him, and then they’d be right back to where they started. She couldn’t trust him yet.

“You’re safe here, at least,” she said. “I’ll take care of you.”

He nodded and walked past her, careful not to brush her arm with his injury, then shrugged out of his jacket. She took it for him so it wouldn’t steam in the bathroom, and she still couldn’t get a good look at what was under the bandage. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Belle?” he called as she left.

“Nosty?”

He swallowed, jaw pulsing around his clenched teeth. She wanted to hold him until his jaw relaxed, but all she did was stand and watch. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

****

Belle waited to cry until she was in the car, though she didn’t intend to drive anywhere. The drugstore was around the corner and she’d walk there, but she needed privacy to sob.

After a minute or so, she fumbled for her phone to check on Joseph. She had several missed calls from him and a few texts and voicemails. Not wanting to hear whatever it was he had to say, she sent him a quick text to let him know they were home safe, put her phone away, and got out of the car.

She didn’t know exactly what Nosty needed, so she filled her basket with any first aid item she thought might come in handy as well as some more gummies, sour candies, and a bag of assorted mini chocolate bars. Nosty had a sweet tooth like her, but she didn’t know what he liked specifically. She’d never asked.

When she got home, the shower was still going, so she set about taking his clothes out of where she’d shoved them and shoving Joseph’s clothes in their place. 

Then, a horrible thought struck her. What if Joseph came here? He’d left all his toiletries and clothes, and though he still had some things at the church, she could see him using this as an excuse to check on them. As much as she feared making a bad decision while alone with Nosty, she also didn’t want anyone else to be there. She wanted freedom to watch him move and know that he was alive and safe. Damaged, but not beyond repair. In her home. 

The shower turned off and Belle slammed the closet door shut, grabbing a pair of sweats and boxers on her way to the bathroom. 

“Nosty, I have clothes!” she called. She half expected a quip, some attempt to make her laugh, but all she got was silence until the door opened to Nosty in a towel, holding his hand out for the sweats. He’d taken off whatever they’d wrapped around his torso to hold the dressing on, but the bloody square of gauze remained.

“I’ll clean that for you when you’re dressed,” she said.

He nodded and shut the door, so to keep herself busy, she filled the electric kettle and set out two mugs. When she turned to go back to the bathroom, Nosty was standing behind her, watching, and she yelped. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’re so quiet,” she said. 

“You don’t listen hard enough for danger.” He loped toward the table, no less powerful for how gaunt he was, and took his seat.

By the time she’d gathered her first aid supplies and washcloth and added bags to the mugs, the kettle was done, so she poured them each a cup and brought them to the table. 

Nosty had already pulled her chair close to his, and their knees touched when she sat down. She ignored the sparks that raced up and down her legs. If she fell back into Nosty, who knew what would happen? He didn’t seem to want her as urgently as before anyway. 

They had shaved the fine hairs along Nosty’s chest, but he still sucked in air when she peeled the tape off, and then it was her turn. The gauze revealed a barely-scabbed over circle of thick marks. What did that mean? It wasn’t a bullet hole, and if it was a series of stab wounds, it meant that someone had held him down and spent time on it. From her amateur view, the wounds looked deep.

She traced each slash with the tip of her finger, barely resisting the urge to press her lips to his wounds. Nosty grabbed her hand. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

“No.” He curled her fingers to his chest, holding them there. “You would never.” 

You would, she wanted to say, except she didn’t want to say it at all. She wanted Nosty to be himself, to be the man who left her to kick around a football without a care so she could rage and scream and cry. She wanted him to be quiet because he wanted to be, not because he’d had the volume beaten out of him. She wanted him to be okay.

“Who did this to you?” she asked. 

“You’re looking at him.”

When she looked up, their faces were so close, she could have kissed his chin. “Why?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed near her lips, and she wanted to kiss that too. “Looking for a wee section two holiday.”

She frowned, pulling away enough that her lips had to behave. A mandatory mental health hospitalization for a break from his life? He bared his teeth at her, but she thought he was trying to sneer, to be jaunty. He couldn’t quite manage.

“You knew you could have come here,” she said. “You could have stayed here.”

He squeezed her hand closer to his chest. “I know.” His other hand whispered along her cheek, gently, like he didn’t want to scare her away. “The truth is, I wanted to fucking die.”

She met his eyes, willing hers not to mist over. If she cried and Nosty tried to comfort her, she’d be done for. “Why’d they send you home if you—if you’d really—hurt yourself.”

“They wanted me to fucking die too,” he said. “Been there so many times, they’re sick of me.”

When Joseph had spoken to the hospital, is that what they’d meant? Nosty came in regularly for self-harm? Her stomach roiled. It didn’t matter now—he was here, and she wouldn’t let anything happen to him. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive, Nosty.” She blinked tears away. Nosty didn’t move to wipe them.

“I’m a fucking survivor,” he said, voice hard. “Can’t even kill meself.”

“Good.” She turned her face to kiss one of his fingers. Just a little kiss would be fine. “I want you to live.”

“Aye?” He bowed his head toward her, eyes closed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. No one else does.”

She kissed his forehead, and his hands relaxed beneath her. She didn’t know about anyone else—for all she knew, they did want him dead. But she knew that she didn’t, and even if she didn’t trust him with her heart again yet, she wanted him to feel safe.

“Let me dress this,” she said. “And then we’ll find dinner, okay?”

“I’m starving,” he said. 

She pulled away from him so she could work, and he might have, for just a second, looked agonized. She had to bandage him up though—the scabs didn’t look as secure as she’d like them to be. 

The washcloth had cooled, so she stood to re-wet it, pushing Nosty’s tea toward him. Obedient, he wrapped his hands around it, and she caught him breathing in the steam when her back was turned. She’d forgotten to put out the sugar, but Nosty took a sip anyway, and she wondered if anyone had given him anything comforting or even fed him at all. Had they just released him from the hospital with a bandage and nothing else?

“When did this happen?” She sat, scooting her chair around so she could reach him better.

“Couple days ago, I think.”

She sponged at his chest, pleased to hear his quiet sigh at her touch. “Did they give you anything for the pain?”

“Didn’t even give me fucking stitches and you think they gave me summat for pain?” 

She shrugged. “They might have given you something to take the edge off.”

He laughed darkly, sending a shiver down her neck. She switched sides of the cloth so she could dry him. 

“Belle, I know you’re brilliant. Use your fucking head.”

She swallowed, cheeks flushing. “I would think—”

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Do I look like a bloke they’re gonna give oxies to? Do you think they look at me and think ‘och, that’s a fellow we can trust not to be in pain?’”

Belle wanted to look away, but she was brave enough to hold his gaze, even as what he said sank in and she wanted to pretend she’d never heard it.

He released her chin and ran a hand through her hair.

“People as kind as you?” He tugged gently on a curl. “They don’t work in hospitals.”

She hated that idea. “Does it hurt now?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. How’s it look?”

She took a deep breath to gather herself, then shrugged. “I’m not sure how it looked before, so I can’t really say. It doesn’t smell infected.” Before she could change her mind, she pressed her lips to the wound the same way her dad used to kiss her forehead to check for fever. “Doesn’t feel warm either.”

“If a nurse fucking checked me like that, hospital might not be so bad, hey?” 

She thought it was a real smile on his face now, not just an approximation for her benefit, and she bit her lip in return. “Hand me that gauze, would you?”

****

MacAvoy was not unaccustomed to anxiety, but this was a whole new level. This time, he knew for a fact that Belle had put herself in a compromising situation, and every minute that she didn’t respond to his texts and calls was a minute that she could have been in danger.

At the very least, she was in danger of falling under Nosty’s spell again. 

He considered going to her flat, figuring his presence would be enough to stop any budding romance, but what if he was on his way there while she was on her way to the church and they missed each other? And what if they just pinged back and forth like that until Nosty took Belle in his arms and made her forget why she’d ever been sad?

If she would just answer her phone or text anything other than “we’re home,” he could have planned.

Instead, he took a taxi home from the library as soon as the replacement arrived, then sat in a pew and waited. If he went to the rectory, he might not hear them, and Belle might have forgotten her phone.

His stomach wasn’t happy with any of this, and it took him an hour of sitting and staring at his phone to realize he could put a note on the sanctuary door. 

With that taken care of, MacAvoy hauled himself up to the rectory kitchen and poured himself a soda. It was a good thing Belle had tossed all his alcohol because there was no way he’d resist temptation tonight. His skin buzzed, his heart pounded, and his stomach took all of this as a declaration of war. If he wasn’t worried he’d miss Belle, he’d have taken a sleeping pill and tried to be unconscious through it.

“Oh god.” He pressed his forehead into his hand. He needed a drink. He deserved a drink for working as hard as he had, suffering so much.

But he couldn’t have a drink, because if he did, he’d have to do it again.

How could he have expected Nosty to come back? He’d thought they were done with him, that he and Belle could move on together. She’d made it clear that there was nothing romantic between them, but that was fine. He didn’t need romance. He just needed her here in his church or to be there in her flat. 

He fumbled for his phone and glanced at the time. It was barely six.

“Fuck.” He scrambled up, dialing Belle again. Surely she wouldn’t just leave Nosty at her flat while she went on her date?

She didn’t answer, so MacAvoy sent her a text about it, reminding her that she could bring Nosty there even though he didn’t want her to. Being alone with Nosty sounded almost as torturous as detoxing from alcohol.

He set the phone on the table, then gulped down his soda. It was going to be a long night.

****

Cleaned, fed, and wearing pajamas, they both sat on opposite ends of the couch, tucked into separate blankets. Belle wanted nothing more than to be in Nosty’s arms, but she wouldn’t allow herself. Besides, Nosty hadn’t given her any of his usual signals. He’d stayed to his side, curled up in the old uni sweatshirt of hers that he liked. 

While he’d been shirtless, the gauze had remained clean, and she was hopeful that his wound hadn’t and wouldn’t reopen. That meant they could focus on everything else.

She didn’t want to.

Instead, she made hot chocolate and deposited her assortment of candy between them on the couch, and then they sat in silence.

“So.” Nosty picked up a miniature Mars bar. “Where is he, then?”

“Where’s who?”

He gestured to their blankets. “Your new boyfriend.”

She couldn’t help laughing. He had to know how miserable she’d been, didn’t he? She had opened up her soul to him, spilled her guts on the floor, and he’d chosen to leave her like that. He had to know.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Joseph was here.” 

“Joseph? The fucking priest?”

Part of her was glad to hear the fire in his voice, but a bigger part was furious. “Yes, the priest. Do you have a problem with that?” 

“Aye, I’ve got a problem with it, it’s fucking weird!” He flung the blanket to the floor. “A fucking priest cozying up on your couch?”

Too many things fought for Belle to retaliate with, so all that came out was a strangled scream. For his part, Nosty shrank back at this, and she calmed just enough to snatch his blanket back up and throw it onto him.

“You—” She jabbed a finger toward him. “You left me! You can’t be mad that Joseph was the one here to pick up the pieces.” 

He draped the blanket over his knees, watching her like she might erupt. “The pieces?”

She stared at him. What did he mean the pieces? What did he think she did when he left—came home and immediately forgot him?

She had so many things to say, so many thoughts racing through her head, but they all just jumbled and spun, so instead of speaking, she slammed her mug onto the end table, stalked into her bedroom, and shut the door.

****

Belle didn’t know how long she lay in bed, crying into her pillow. She was paralyzed, unable to even turn toward the clock. Even worse, she feared that Nosty would take this as a cue to leave. If he left her again, maybe she’d just start over in another town. Maybe she’d move to France and live on patisserie.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and then the handle turned. Nosty pushed it open with his knee, holding a steaming mug in each hand.

“I made tea,” he said. 

She looked at him, eyes red, then turned her face into her pillow. He hadn’t left. He’d made tea. 

“Belle, I’m trying.” 

She waved a hand toward her nightstand and was rewarded with the sound of him walking over and setting the mug there. More steps, another clink from the other table, and then he was climbing into his side of the bed.

“Thank you,” she said. 

She wondered if he’d spoon up behind her like he liked to, and if he did, would she move? She didn’t think so. She wanted to feel the solid weight of his arms around her, the rise and fall of his too-thin chest as he breathed, alive. 

The headboard moved, she felt his hip near her shoulder, and then he laid his palm on her back. 

“I shouldn’t yell at you,” he said. 

“I don’t care.”

“Och, right, I always fucking slam doors and cry over shite I don’t care about.”

She wanted to glare at him, but she still didn’t feel like moving. His hand on her back was nice. “I don’t care about the yelling,” she said.

“What do you care about then?” He traced his thumb along her shoulderblade, and she closed her eyes.

“What did you think would happen when you left?”

His hand stilled. “What do you mean?”

“When I said Joseph picked up the pieces, you said ‘the pieces?’ Like you were surprised.” She squeezed her comforter. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Of course, she should have expected that he wouldn’t answer. Answering would mean acknowledging that he’d hurt her, and he hadn’t done that all day. Why would she expect it now?

After a full minute of silence, she struggled to sit up, then leaned against the headboard next to him. He stared into his tea the whole time, watching it like a crystal ball. She picked up her own mug and held it in front of her, and the surface was oddly captivating when one did not want to look at the person next to them.

“You thought it wouldn’t matter,” she said to her tea. “You thought, after everything I told you, that I would still throw you away. You didn’t believe that I could love you.”

“I had to leave.” He thrust the hand that had been on her back into his pocket. “I had to.”

“Why?” She finally looked at him. “Tell me why.”

“I wanted to stay too badly.” His voice was so soft, she wouldn’t have been able to hear save for the absolute silence in the bedroom. “I want to stay now.”

Her throat felt hot and sick, and she wanted to lay back down and cry, but she forced herself not to move. “I can’t trust you now,” she said. “I can’t trust that you won’t break my heart again.”

He tensed, fist clenching around his mug. “So what now, then?” His voice broke, and he clenched the mug harder. “You’ll send me back tomorrow?”

“No, of course not,” she said, but he didn’t relax. More than anything, she wanted to say I’ll take you back right now, we’ll work on it together, but she couldn’t do that because she couldn’t trust him. 

“When, then? When this heals?” He slapped his injury, and she winced.

“I’ll take you to the church tomorrow,” she said. “There are plenty of spare rooms in the rectory.” 

“The church? Are you fucking with me?” 

She shook her head, chancing a look at him. He was watching her now, face set in a grimace, teeth bared. 

“You can’t stay here.”

“What, so it’s either your priest boyfriend’s church or the fucking streets? Jesus fuck, what did you even bother me for?”

She swallowed. “No.” 

“No?”

“Nosty—”

“Fucking look at me.” Despite his tone, his finger was gentle when he tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. They were bright, feverish. She’d seen this look before, but never directed at her. She didn’t even know if it was directed at her now, or just in her direction.

Belle shook her head. “No. If you really, really don’t want to go to the church, you can stay here in the other room.” 

He tilted her face back and forth with gentle pressure, watching her eyes move. Before he let go, he brushed his fingers along her jaw. She wanted to close her eyes, lean into it, but she held his gaze instead. 

“You would let me stay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It might break my heart, but I won’t let you go back.”

He watched her for a second, then, inexplicably, put his palm over her eyes. 

“Nosty, what—”

“I’ll go to the church tomorrow.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. Had he covered her eyes because he didn’t want to say it to her face? Maybe he was a coward, but he was a coward with technique.

“Thank you, Nosty. Can I look at you again?”

“No. Your eyes’re too blue. Hurts mine to stare too long.” 

She bit her lip, but she knew she looked amused anyway. “Maybe you should be the one covering up then.” 

“Don’t blame me, hey? I’m the victim here.”

God, she wanted to kiss him right then more than she had all day. Instead, she raised her cup, only bumbling a bit before she found her mouth. 

Nosty’s fingers flexed around her eyes. “Belle?”

“What now? Is my hair your next aggressor?”

Briefly, his hand drifted to stroke her hair from her temple, but then it was back over her eyes. “Can I hold you?”

It was probably a bad idea to say yes. This was how people fell back into bad habits and got hurt again. But he’d already agreed to go to Joseph’s in the morning, and she was not going to fuck that up.

“Yes.”

Because of his injury, he couldn’t spoon up behind her, so they kicked the covers out from under them and pressed their legs together while Nosty slid an arm behind Belle and tucked her against the good side of his chest. 

He rested his cheek on her head, and she closed her eyes. She could easily drift off in the warmth of his embrace, but she didn’t want to sleep before Nosty. She may have been put through the emotional ringer the past few weeks, but Nosty had been brutalized. She didn’t want him to have to be alone.

“How did you find me?” he murmured into her hair.

“It wasn’t easy.” She laid her hands over his, and he laced their fingers together. “I would have called every hospital and police station in London, but I got lucky on the fifteenth or so, and Constable Butler said he would let me know if he saw you.”

“Who?”

Right, why should Nosty know baby officer Cliff Butler? “The kid who let me into your cell.” 

“You called fifteen stations?”

She shrugged. “At least. Joseph called hospitals and told them he was your chaplain.”

“Can’t believe you did that.”

If she could have known that moving wouldn’t jostle him painfully, she’d have twisted to glare at him. Since she couldn’t, she settled for pinching him lightly on the hand. 

“I was worried sick. I could barely eat or sleep. I thought you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and then you—” Her voice caught, eyes filling. She hadn’t expected to cry over this now that he was here.

“Then?” 

She sucked in a shuddering breath. “The first time Constable Butler called me was to tell me how well you were doing. He saw you—” It was stupid to be so upset, so upset about a football when clearly, Nosty had had issues. “Playing a game.”

Nosty’s arms tightened around her, and her shoulders shook while she tried stifling her tears. 

“Anyway, that was when I decided I should move on, because if you cared about me, you’d have come back.”

Nosty’s arms tightened again, and then he groaned and loosened them, flexing the shoulder near his injury. “So why did you come back for me?”

She almost slapped him on the hand but was afraid of startling him into hurting himself. “Nosty, I know you’re brilliant. Use your fucking head.”

He snorted. “‘Spose I had that one coming.”

She snuggled into him, having a hard time remaining vigilant about boundaries and not trusting him when truly, aside from the injury, this was everything she wanted. 

“Fuck, Belle, you’ve got work tomorrow.” His arms loosened, and she wanted to scream.

“What? So?”

“You’re falling asleep already, mad woman. It’s bedtime.” 

He let go and climbed out of bed, but all he did was turn the lights out before lying flat and holding his arm out for her to lay on his chest. It was much more boyfriend-y than was probably smart, but Belle fit herself against him anyway. Now she’d know if he left.

“I promise,” he whispered, resting a hand in her hair. “I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“If you’re not, the next time I hunt you down, I’m throwing you off the Tower.” 

His chest shook with laughter, and she smiled, eyes already closing.

“Goodnight, Belle,” he said. 

“Goodnight, Nosty.”

He played with her hair, fingers rubbing along her scalp. It lulled her almost to sleep before he whispered, “Belle?”

“Mm?”

“Can I bring books with me to the church?”

She wanted to look at him but couldn’t quite pry her eyelids open. “‘Course,” she said. “However many you like.”

He kissed her on the head and she smiled, but even that was fleeting as she fell into the deepest sleep she’d had for two weeks.

[mandrakebrew]

Show Me the Place Where your Words Come From

Words: 1,424 Rating: General Content Warning: oc x canon

In retrospect, Dr Palmer should have counted themselves lucky that the city's library had a couple books on Hungarian. One on learning the language, and another on it's history. They asked the librarian if any others were checked out, and none were. So they checked out what was there, and headed out.

Their next stop was the bookstore they frequented. The store didn't have anything, but Palmer asked the owner if he could get them some books on the language, and some magazines and catalogues too, if possible. The owner said he'd try.

After they started gathering resources, they realized a slight problem. One of their commanders bad habits was snooping around. Their home was no exception. They'd caught him once, and found some items of theirs moved around in their drawers. If they wanted the surprise to actually be a surprise, they'd have to get clever.

Fortunately, at least for this instance, they grew up in a home where they needed to keep things hidden, so it was a well developed talent. Putting them inside something with a lock wasn't a good idea. Might as well put a big sign that said 'Look in Here!' above it. Palmer could ask Para-Medic to keep them at her place, but having to explain what they were doing made them want to avoid that option.

Drawers, and cabinets were also a no go. Putting them under their mattress was almost laughably bad. However…

They slid themselves under the bed, pushing some boxes out of their way. They took the knife they keep in their pocket and cut a slit almost a foot in length into the fabric under the box spring. Then they placed the books onto the wooden frame inside.

The hiding spot worked for two years.

Palmer found a couple co-workers who were native speakers as well. Which was fortunate since they pointed out just how bad the doctor's pronunciation was. Those conversations were had when Palmer was sure Skull Face was nowhere in the building. Quickly silencing a conversation with someone when he walked in the room would never look innocent. They'd have to spoil the surprise, otherwise their commander would assume the worst of the situation.

Alas, it got spoiled not because of Skull Face's snooping, or having caught Palmer in a hushed conversation, but because the doctor couldn't help getting distracted.

They'd wandered into their bedroom after taking a bathroom break from studying. They noticed their books no longer fit on their bookshelf, and were decided which ones to get rid of. They got so focused on this task that they failed to notice the sound of the front door opening.

Eventually, they remembered what they'd been doing, and returned to the living room. Only to find their commander sitting on the couch, looking at the study materials spread about the coffee table.

Palmer now only slightly regretting giving him a key and telling him to come over whenever he wanted.

The commander had his back to them, and didn't seem to know they'd walked back into the room, so they stayed quiet. Skull Face currently flipping through one of their notebooks. He then traded it for one of the catalogues Palmer had. They got it for translation practice, and to see pictures of Hungarian homes.

They took a few more moments simply to watch, enjoying the novelty of sneaking up on him for once. Eventually they walked around the couch and into his line of sight. “I meant for it to be a surprise.” They explained.

If Skull Face was startled by their sudden appearance, he didn't show it. “You're learning Hungarian.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I just thought…” Their commander was their lover, yes, but he was also their friend. One of, if not the only, person they could truly be themselves around. He made them feel safe for once. While they both shared knowledge of English and German, the doctor felt it was unfair they could never speak in his mother tongue. They knew nothing of it, and he'd lost most of it growing up. Another tragedy from a long list in Skull Face's life.

“I wanted us to be able to speak in your mother tongue, not just mine.”

“How long have you been working on this?” His voice had gone quiet to the point they almost missed what he asked.

”Két év, gondolom?“

The commander just stared at them in response. Did they say it wrong? Was their pronunciation off again? Did he not understand what they said?

Before they could ask anything though, Skull Face cleared his throat. He dropped the catalogue he'd been holding onto the table.

“Excuse me, there's something I need to attend to.”

”What? You just got here.“

”Yes, but I just remembered it.“ He responded as he got the door. He still had his hat and jacket on so he quickly left the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Palmer started wringing their hands. Did they offend him? Was this whole thing an overstep? A mistake? Should they try to call him later tonight or wait until work tomorrow to talk?

Palmer looked at the materials on their table. They should probably put those away now.

As he walked back towards his home, Skull Face tried to process what the hell just happened. He wasn't used to it, people just being kind him, at least not without some hidden hook. Not since his childhood which he now barely recalls. This though, goes beyond kindness. They spent all that time… Doing something for him?

Skull Face was a man of action, he was rarely swayed by talk. It was too easy to say one thing and then act another. So being told the words, “I care about you,“ or ”you're important to me,“ didn't mean a whole lot to him.

Actions however, were harder to ignore. There was hard evidence in front of him that the doctor cared about him.

He cleared his throat again, and breathed in sharply. His vision began to blur, and his eyes stung. Skull Face shook his head and started walking faster towards his home.

They didn't speak again until lunchtime the next day. Palmer could barely focus on work, absentmindedly doing paperwork. The morning had been calm was well, making it drag on even more.

Finally, they heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” If it wasn't their commander, the doctor was going to have an anxiety attack.

”Afternoon, Doctor,“ Thankfully for the doctor, Skull Face opened the door and came inside.

”Ah, Commander,“ They forced a smile, trying to keep control of their nerves.

”My apologies, for the interruption last night.“

”It's alright, I'm sure it was out of your hands." Him needed to go do something was an obvious lie, they knew that. In fact they were sure Skull Face knew they knew that.

They moved the conversation away, "Anything interesting happen this morning?“ They'd complain about their day, but they knew better than to complain about a slow day in the medical field.

”I had a meeting with the major, not much else.”

“Oh? Anything you can tell me?”

“It's confidential, I'm afraid.”

The doctor made a fake pouting face at him, before letting it drop, ”Ah well, I trust you know what you're doing.“

The XO wondered if they meant 'you' as a collective. Or just him.

There was a tense silence after that, before they both spoke at the same time, the elephant finally being acknowledged.

”Doctor-“

”Listen-“

The both stop again, then the commander gestures for Palmer to continue.

”I didn't mean to upset you, if that's what happened.“

Upset? Is that how they took his reaction? Then again, how else were they supposed to take it?

”You didn't,“ He paused, ”I appreciate the thought.“

That's a relief, though they were still confused as to his… Theatrics.

They'd been so caught up in worrying that they'd damaged their relationship somehow, they never considered that his reaction might be a positive one. But the more they did think about it, the more it made sense. He'd gone so long without kind gestures that he'd simply didn't know how to respond. An abused dog that cries out when pet.

”Szívesen, commander.“ They smiled at him. ”Now that's it out in the open, maybe you can help me study.“

”I'm still learning it myself, you know.” He reminded them.

“Well then, we can help each other study.”

An excuse to spend more time with the other, not that they really needed one.

A/N: Két év, gondolom = 2 years, i think Szívesen = You're welcome

[helenarlett-rex]

You know... I kind of miss being a librarian. Not so much the actual work itself, and certainly not the people I ended up working for... But I kind of miss the pure insanity you encounter from day to day as a librarian. Any time I needed new material for a Miss Smalls story, all I ever had to do was go to work for a couple of days, and chances were I'd have all the inspiration I needed. Now that I work at a gaming store, I don't really have that. Even working for the second biggest chain of gaming stores in the country (Game X Change... We are second only to Game Stop) I still don't get quite the same level of crazy I did at the public library. It's like, sure, I could tell you about people calling in and asking if we sell random shit a game store would have no reason to sell, like katanas, or police scanners... Or tell you about the crack head family that comes in to sell Pokemon cards and how the dad won't stop swinging the baby around and throwing it up into the air until the baby finally gets so sick it vomits all over my store... Or the bitch area manager who keeps coming in and rearranges everything in the store to the point where no one who actually works there knows where anything is because that is the only thing she can do because she's too blazed out of her mind 24/7 to actually do anything useful but she still needs a reason to go from store to store and do stuff so she can collect a pay check and as the mistress of company's CEO it's not like anyone is going to fire her... I could talk about how that same bitch was dating one of the store managers while sleeping with the CEO behind his back and then dumped him and chose the CEO over him when he found out, despite the fact that the CEO is already married and was sleeping with her behind his own wife's back, and when the manager quit because he refused to work for either of them anymore they were the ones to host his going away party as if they thought that was somehow okay... Or I could talk about how the company is owned by a rich frat boy who has never had to work a day in his life, married a literal Saudi Arabian oil princess, and knows absolutely nothing about the things his stores sell, to the point where the very concept of model kits had to be explained to him and he still didn't get it... I could complain about how every time the Warhammer group shows up to play Warhammer at the tables in the back of the store they leave the bathrooms looking like we were housing a group of circus elephants in there... But that just all seems so mundane compared to the stuff I saw at the library. No more stories about how we had to yell at a man to get out of our tree only to later catch him living in our utility room and find out he was an armed robber who had been going around town in a circle robbing the same three pizza places over and over... No more stories about the insane woman who would steal pork chops out of the Walmart dumpsters because her psychic told her pork cleanses the soul (the older the pork the better) or the extremely racist cook book she was writing... I miss people like Tree Boy and Pork Chop Lady... I miss the weird guy who would come in every night and just sit in a chair and stare at people in silence for five hours... Or the guy with the Crying Elvis t-shirt who was always trying to take pictures of our feet when we weren't looking... Or the guy who wore shorts and sandals under a trench coat and ball cap, never spoke a word to anyone, and only rented children's movies... How many people can say they've had a professional sword sallower threaten to never swallow swords in their building again because he saw an LGBT book on the shelf? How often have you ever found porn hidden in your ceiling? How often have you seen a video on Facebook of a man getting caught without his pants on while he sat in the parking lot of a public park watching children playing on the playground and said, "Oh shit, that's Mr. Gee..." I mean, I could probably do with less pedophiles... And less cannibals... But I still miss that kind of insanity.

[groundcontroltopossum]

Being a librarian wasn’t so bad honestly. 

Before the disappearance of humanity that is.

Sure, you had your occasional outrageously late return, various food stuff and bodily fluids stuck between pages, and the absolutely shocking things people would leave open on the public computers but majority of the time, it was a pretty solid gig.

But then the end came. The rapture. The great vacuuming of the pest that humanity seems to have become. One minute everything is normal. The news is reporting bad shit that we are all blissfully ignoring, Mcdonald’s breakfast is ending at 11, and begrudging conversations are happening about the need to file our taxes soon. The next, a piercing noise is burrowing into the eardrum of everyone in sight. A noise like that mosquito ringtone we used to play in middle school to mess with the teachers but strong enough to make you think your brains were about to start leaking out your ears, falling to the grounds, screaming “please god” and hoping you aren't unconsciously evacuating your bowels while you writhe like a mealworm on a toddlers fishing hook.  

I was at work when it happened. One minute I’m cursing the existence of James Patterson and the way his books bulge off the shelves, the next I’m on the floor feeling this drilling noise sharp enough to make my teeth vibrate. It stopped as quickly as it started. The sudden silence following something that could generously be referred to as the squeal of jesus’ brake pads is unnerving in a way you can’t describe. 

I thought I had gone deaf.

Picking myself up off the floor, wiping tears and snot off my face with my sleeve, I heard nothing.

Stillness.

Silence.

That vague gentle ringing you get when faced with real quiet. Your mind is desperately trying to fill it with something akin to tv static. My head hurt and my legs felt shaky as I stumbled out of the aisle. My theory of sudden explosive hearing loss shattered by my stumble into the end cap sending a copy of Infinite Jest careening to the floor in a loud thump. I stared at the fallen soldier for a half second, expecting to hear the tut of Ms. Lewis, my boss and head librarian, behind the counter or a giggle from one of the school girls who had been huddled around the study table.

Nothing.

Looking around, I realized there was nobody else in the library. I was alone. Chairs had been turned over, a few other copies of dropped books decorated the floor, and bags littered the common areas.

But everyone who had previously been inhabiting the structure was gone. 

Feeling dizzy and woozy in a way that vaguely reminded me of my last hangover before swearing off tequila and tequila based products, I stumbled through the lobby. Passing tables, abandoned jackets, and stopping to pick up a heavy duty set of headphones pumping the closing rift of a Mountain Goats song. 

“I hope you die, I hope we both die”

Tapping on the conspicuous phone laying next to them, I silenced the eery melody. Making my way to the doors, I half expected to find everyone outside. Fire trucks and ambulances dotting the small parking lot, police milling about. Maybe there had been a gas leak, maybe an earthquake. The building had gotten evacuated and I had simply been missed. The repellative power of James Patterson must affect more than just the librarians. 

Instead, there was a parking lot lined with the same cars I had seen when I had passed the door earlier. Past the parking lot, the road was empty and the back of the park lined it with trees. Nobody was waiting outside, no emergency vehicles, no storm siren. 

Just more silence. 

I locked the front doors. 

I honestly can’t tell you how much time has passed since then. I had a terrible habit of avoiding uncomfortable things. After hunting through the library, checking every nook, cranny, and closet to ensure that everybody hadn’t simply decided to play a demented game of hide and seek and finding myself to truly be the one and only person still inside, I decided to…finish shelving the Patterson books. I stepped around the debris of other people's lives and went about my daily tasks. The electricity was still on although the internet wasn’t. The water still ran in the sinks in the bathroom. I shelved all the returned books, wiped down the desk, and repeatedly checked the doors for people to come back and get their cars, their phones, their backpacks but no one ever came. 

You would be surprised how much you could avoid thinking about something in a library. Even if it was the scene of the crime. 

The world became eerily quiet. I kept listening for sirens, calls for help, the chop of helicopters overhead, children playing in the park next door, anything. I set the phones out in a line on the counter and waited for them to ring. Nothing. I kept the lights off. I sat in the darkness. I waited. I didn’t speak aloud for so long that when I tried to call out it came out hoarse and choked. 

Something has happened to me since the incident. My head feels in a fog. I feel dazed and confused a lot of the time. I’ll find myself standing, staring at a patch of the carpet, completely lost in what I had been doing. I don’t feel afraid. I don’t feel aware enough to be afraid. I can’t leave the library. Something feels wrong when I try. Like there will be something terrible waiting for me outside the doors. A voice in my head that whispers to stay here, stay safe. 

I’m sure there are others who would have a much better plan when the world ended on their shift that didn’t include locking themselves in their place of work, washing their underwear in the sink to reuse, and surviving on a diet of Kids Corner snacks but I was already pretty burnt out when this apocalypse hit so I’m not putting in the effort now. I’d honestly always pictured it would end differently though. Less Left Behind More War of the Worlds.

Beggars can’t be choosers. 

After I had cleaned the library top to bottom, piled the items left behind into the lost and found bin, and vagueling accepted that nobody was coming back, I did what you do in a library.

I read.

While I had no drive to go out and fight fellow survivors for twinkies, if there were any, I figured that if humanity had essentially Home Alone-d me, there was a good chance they would notice and eventually come back. Instead of setting up booby traps, rigging cardboard cutouts to model trains, and turning a tarantula into a weapon, I put all my effort into compiling a collection of the greatest works of humankind. When they came back, if they came back, I would prove that I was useful. I was preserving our heritage, our infamy, books are essential components of culture, as Ms. Lewis loved to say, without books we were nothing.

I was nothing. I was alone. 

So I would make sure that the best books would survive. The greatest stories of our kind, saved and sealed away. Or at least, locked in the office for now. Eventually I would feel okay enough to leave. Maybe when the stock of animal crackers runs out. Until then, I would construct a true collection of the greatest written word available to me. My mind went back to Ms. Lewis, the dowdy older bookworm who ran this place like the navy and would continually harp on my reading choices. She lambasted the current writing styles, beating into me how important it was to read ‘true works of literature’. 

I had found the tortoise shell glasses she always wore on the floor behind the counter. My stomach had turned as I left them laying on her desk. She would want them when she came back. 

Combing through the books she had listed as evidence of true culture, I began the herculean task I had assigned myself.

I grit my teeth through War and Peace and bit my lip bloody through Crime and Punishment. I read The Great Gatsby lying on my right side and The Catcher in the Rye lying on the left. I stood up throughout the entirety of Nineteen Eighty Four and laid flat on my back for Anna Karenina. My spine hurt after reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, my neck ached after The Grapes of Wrath, and both pained me at the end of Les Misérables. I kept nodding off throughout Middlemarch, dozed through Moby Dick, and yawned so thoroughly during Emma that I cracked my jaw loud enough to sound like a shotgun blast. 

I picked through book after book, carefully reading them and then tucking them away to safety.

I was doing it, I was building the perfect reliquary of human expression. 

It was day who-knows, exact time lost-and-unimportant, my mind was bleary and floaty at best on the meal of saltines I had found in the staff kitchen while wearing a hoodie plucked from lost-and-found with some kind of faded design on it. I was sitting in the study area, my back against a low bookshelf to try and release the strain of the constant bending over I had been doing, thumbing through the final pages of For Whom The Bell Tolls when the unending silence around me was finally broken.

Tap, Tap, Tap

For a moment, I didn’t even register what was happening. The same feeling you get when something shocking happens; a car mows into a guardrail in front of you, the growl of a grizzly on a park trail behind you, a gunshot in a public place. You have this moment right before you react where it feels like everything freezes and you almost wish you could stay in that still place before you inevitably have to react and be in the moment of fear. 

Tap, Tap, Tap

Unfortunately you never get to stay in that moment long. Carefully, I shifted the novel off my lap and gingerly rocked up onto my knees. The study area was in view of the door and when I climbed to my feet, I could see that there was somebody standing at it. 

Although I had been checking every day, multiple times, suddenly seeing the one thing I had been looking for felt threatening in a vague manner. The fuzziness that had plagued my mind seemed to only increase as I hesitantly walked up the door. The figure somehow blurred although the doors had no kind of film on them. 

I wasn’t ready. The collection isn't complete yet. They would be disappointed. I hadn’t completed my work, I had failed, they came back too early, there wasn't enough time.

The flipping of the lock sounded as loud as a firework in the constant silence of the library. Pushing the door open, enough to wedge my shoulder and foot in, I gazed out at the person on the other side.

They looked…strange. 

Vaguely human. Like something trying so hard to be that it’s effort had made it miss the mark. It was short, nonthreatening, and stood a step away from the door with its arms behind its back. The muddyness that had occupied my mental acuity since the piercing noise suddenly felt purposeful. Instead of resulting from burnout,exhaustion, or a diet missing any vitamins and minerals outside of red dye number two for who knows how long, it began to feel like a veil. A curtain purposefully pulled to prevent me from seeing something I should have. There was something wrong with the person in front of me but I couldn’t see it. I could just feel it. 

“Hello” 

The figure made no reply to my greeting. My voice sounded akin to a croak from the lack of use. 

“Can I...help you?”

It smiled and I vaguely noted that human teeth weren't shaped that way but the observation was pulled from my awareness by the slight tilt of the being head and the sudden producing of an object from behind its back. It presented it to me in the same way I reasoned knights would offer a treasure from war to a princess with a little bow and overly insistent eye contact. 

Something was wrong about the eyes too. Something missing that was supposed to be there. Just like the teeth, this thought felt whisked out of my grasp as I dropped its endless gaze to look at the offering.

A book.

“Oh” I gingerly reached forward, and the being which I could recognize as neither male nor female, happily pushed it into my hands. A red glossy cover with a little brown bear wearing a pair of green overalls stared back at me. “Corduroy”

Suddenly, I felt a wave of happiness. An artificial feeling. The same way you got when someone became overly aggravated and started yelling or excited and lept around. The emotion wasn’t yours but years and years of evolutionary functions had left you with the ability to feel the emotions of your companions. Humans don’t survive alone after all, they are meant to be in groups.

Except me. I am alone.

Running my finger over the title, I got the distinct impression that this emotional tide was coming from the figure in front of me. Looking up again, it’s smile has grown even bigger. I remember that human gums were supposed to be a pink color but that doesn't feel important right now. Flipping it open to the inside cover, I see a stamp embossed with a familiar logo. 

“Are you…returning this?” 

It nodded vigorously, before laying its hand over the little bear and let out a chirp noise. It sounded like a bird, something quick and affirmative. 

“Thank you” 

I nodded again and clapped its hands together twice. There was something so juvenile about it. It seemed excited like a child who had been commended for a good task. It almost seemed to dance in place before going still, tucking its hands behind it, and staring pointedly at me. 

Shifting back, I went to close the door. I felt out of step and confused by the being, slightly frightened if I was being honest. Tearing my eyes away from the eternal gaze of the thing outside, I tried to remember how often humans had to blink.  As I slid back into the safety of my haven, I felt a sudden prickle on the parts of me still outside the door like all the hairs on my arm were suddenly standing on end. I whipped my head back around to the crack in the door and found the being pressed against it and by extension me. The height difference between us left it standing face to face with my shoulder causing it to hinge its neck up in order to insist upon the eye contact it wanted. It wasn’t touching me but there was barely a breath between us now. A swell of alarm, the same kind felt when a dog suddenly snaps at your outreached hand both welled up and drained within me in a matter of seconds. A knowledge that there was something wrong about this person. Something dangerous. This assuredness drowned out by a cough syrup-like haze running through my head keeping me in the same state of laxity that had haunted me since I was left behind. The same fuzziness that only seemed to increase the longer the person hung around.

Pressing closer but still managing not to touch me, it dropped its unusual gaze from my eyes to pointedly look inside before resuming its stare.

“Oh, do you want to come in?”

It nodded twice vigorously before letting out a cooing sound. Mechanically, I stepped back out and held the door, the same way I would for any other patron wanting to enter. It watched me closely before chirping, clapping its hands together and quickly walking inside. Apparently my acceptance of its invasion was the highlight of its day. 

Whatever it was, It sprinted excitedly around the space in a way that vaguely reminded me of a toddler let loose. It ran its hands across the spines on the shelves, looped the tables, and let out a continuous chorus of birdlike noises into a space that had barely housed more than pages turning recently. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen someone so excited about the library. Not that Ms. Lewis would have allowed it in her time. 

When she comes back. I put her glasses on her desk for when she comes back.

Leaning against the counter, I watched the excited sprinting as I cradled Corduroy in my hands. It felt important not to put it down for some reason and as the thing continued, I looked down at the children's book in my hands. If the internet was working I could have found who had checked it out, I could get it properly returned and put back in the Kids Corner. The story was a favorite of my childhood, mostly because I liked the way the word Corduroy sounded. I remember hiding under the covers in my bedroom with a flashlight way past my bedtime, sounding it out and testing it over and over. It felt like a fancy word, one you would use to sound important and grown up. Turns out my adult self would only use it to debate if the fabric was vintage or just dated when buying clothing at the thrift store. 

Immersed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the return of silence until I looked up and found the being in front of me again. Close enough that I nearly nicked their nose with mine when I straightened up the shrimp-like posture that I had earned in my recent reading escapades. I jolted, jerking back hard enough to drive the checkout desk into my spine and leave a pretty bruise. I gasped at the ache and felt that muggy headed feeling smother me, like someone trying to drown my thoughts in fleece. 

“Stop” I was sure that if I closed my eyes I would fall into a sleep worthy of a Grimm Brothers book. Quickly the feeling pulled back and the cooing noise began to emit from the creature. It felt vaguely comforting but for the first time in a long time, I felt the ability to get a real thought out instead of the continual ambivalence. Whatever this haze was, it was coming from the thing in front of me. 

Who cares? I’m still alone.

Returning back to the foggy baseline, I watched the thing watch me. Tilting its head in an almost puppylike manner. It seemed to find what it was looking for before reaching out to tap twice on the cover of Corduroy. Apparently, checking the spot it tapped was not the right action as it swiftly repeated the gesture accompanied by a chirp that sounded more forceful.

“I don’t understand” 

It hissed lightly in the first non-avian noise I had been present for yet before flipping the page open and running its finger along the writing. I struggled to split my attention between the words and the assurance I felt that humans had nails on the ends of their fingers.

“Corduroy is a bear” I read aloud and the thing pulled its hand back to clap twice with an encouraging twitter. “Do you want me to read it to you?” Its response consisted of a vigorous nod before turning and running off leaving behind a low humming sound. I hesitated to follow but this was my job, right? I had read to patrons before. True, I never did story time as Ms. Lewis said that was a privilege earned but I had helped with pamphlets and difficult to pronounce words before. As I pondered the pros and cons of giving into the things wants, I found myself subconsciously following it to the Kids Corner. It had sat down and splayed out on the brightly colored alphabet rug and when it noticed my obedient action, it chirped happily before patting the rug next to it in a clear invitation. It almost seemed to fit in here. Whatever it was seemed young and so it probably belonged in the most colorful part of the institution. 

Hesitantly, I sat across from it and with a private assurance that this was a perfectly normal activity for me, I began to read. I recounted the story of the bear with the lost button traipsing about in a department store to a thing that both terrified me and left me feeling more subdued than any drug ever could. It sat motionless, completely absorbed in the story. Any other time I would be incensed about the unbroken stare on my person but it felt right. I was the teller of the tale, I had a story to impart, and all eyes should be on me while I did so. 

The end of the story almost felt like it came too soon. However, it seemed to please my audience of one who vigorously clapped and let out a monotony of cheerful noises. I watched its little celebration and felt a small smile cross my face. It was…nice to see someone happy again. Good to know that the stagnation that had held me recently wasn’t all that was left in the world. 

Finishing its little cheer, it leaned forward and tapped the book.

“Again?”

A nod and more tapping was my answer. So I read the story again. And again. And again. And again. Each retelling was followed by a celebration of claps, wiggles, and chirping. Finally, after the sixth retelling, I made my own noise. A loud yawn that seemed to fascinate the thing as it took the chance to drop its gaze to my own mouth and witness the number of teeth I contained. I mindlessly apologized for the action and it responded with a single nod before standing up and heading towards the door. Dazed, I followed it until it opened the door that I remembered locking behind us without stopping and stepped outside. It turned to face me and waited as I caught up. Leaning against the opening it had left, I met its unusual eyes.

“Feel free to come back” the words left me almost without my awareness “the library is for everyone”

It smiled, its teeth looking more correct somehow, before nodding and walking away. It crossed the parking lot and disappeared into the line of trees on the other side of the park. I watched it go before locking the door and returning to the desk. 

Time passed. I wasn’t sure how much but it felt significant. The being did not return but neither did I to the readings of before. Suddenly the classics felt hollow, the stories felt blustering and full of themselves. The greatest works of humanity. Ms. Lewis's words about the ‘proper word’ and ‘true writing’. Did we as a species really boil down to works that glorified war, suffering, and the inequalities that we both put in place and then cursed the existence of? 

I wanted to feel happiness again. Anger, indignation, sorrow. These emotions were not difficult to find. I did not need the writing of long dead authors to curate a selection for me when these emotions were so readily available. Even before the end. When was there not turmoil or conflict? I could turn on the news and be afraid, I could find hopelessness online, despair wandered the streets freely. 

I didn’t want to feel the construction of angst that someone else made and then solved or in the case of most of the classics, didn’t solve. I wanted to feel happy again. The only place I had found any joy since I was left behind was in a children's book from the sixties and it wasn't even fully mine. 

As time passed, as the stockpiled snacks dwindled, as I washed my body in the public sinks and wore strangers' clothing that was left behind I became entirely attached to Corduroy. I carried it with me all over the library, running my fingers over the title. I found myself both wanting the being to return and hoping it never did. 

One day found me sitting behind the checkout counter, cradling the now worn book to my chest, lightly dozing into another dreamless sleep when the silence was once again broken. 

Tap Tap Tap

"I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. Today, someone knocked on the door—and they brought a book."

[the-fallow-library]

Statement of Jacob Grant, regarding a fellow arsonist he met. Original statement given January 23rd, 2017.

-Marlieke Evans, Head Librarian.

[CLICK] 

LIBRARIAN Statement of Jacob Grant, regarding a fellow arsonist he met. Original statement given January 23rd, 2017. Recorded by Marlieke Evans, Head Librarian of the Fallow Library. 

Statement begins

LIBRARIAN (Statement) Back when I was younger, I used to be an arsonist. I won't deny it. Not something I'm proud of but not something I'm really ashamed of, I guess. Plus, not like my criminal record is exactly secret, that stuff needs to be made known to employers and well, hard to get a job when you have a history of putting a lot of stuff on fire. I got one eventually though, in a bookstore ironically, a place that sells one of the most flammable things ever.

Majority of people think I only stopped because I was caught, which is partially the reason. But it's not the main reason, and frankly, it's better they think I stopped because of the arrest.

It was two years ago, May 20th 2015, five months before I got arrested. I had fled to America after my, then, most recent fire, an abandoned building, like the rest. Never had the heart to go after resident buildings or stuff being used. I had planned to do what I was doing in the UK, burn stuff and see what catches alight. But that day, or rather evening, I met someone.

I was in a bar, not getting drunk, I preferred to be sober when I set things on fire and I didn't want to set myself ablaze. I was sitting at a table by myself when I saw her. Honestly it was hard not to notice her, She stood out from everyone else in the room, and not in a bad way. It was like she was a bright flame, the kind moths fly toward. Kind of ironic now that I say it.

Apparently she noticed me too, as we locked eyes a few seconds after I had seen her. She glanced me up and down before walking over to my table. At first, I thought that maybe she was checking me out, but now I know it wasn't that, I mean I am average looking at best, ain't 'ugly' but certainly not model standards.

She sat at my table across from me, and introduced herself as 'Karina', then she just looked at me, waiting for me to speak. It took a moment but I finally did speak, I don't even know why I was so… 'nervous'? I guess I wasn't expecting her to actually speak with me.

Anyways, I introduced myself to her, and then held out my hand for a handshake, but she turned it down, said she wasn't a fan of physical contact, which I was fine with. After that, somehow we got to talking, from her accent I could tell she was from the UK like me so that's basically how our conversation started. While we talked however, I noticed that she smelt like ash and smoke, and I had just assumed that she was a smoker. At some point during our conversation, I asked if she smoked, she looked confused until I mentioned that she smelled like it.

That's when she smiled, and said that it was her hobby that caused the smell, not smoking, and she wasn't a fan of that kind of thing. I then asked what her hobby was, assuming it to be wood burning or welding. She outright, out loud said "I burn things, for fun, like objects or buildings". I freaked out for a moment because we were in a public bar, why on earth would she proudly announce that? but then I noticed that the bar we were in, was now empty. I hadn't even noticed or heard anyone leave, not even the bartender was there.

Somehow that didn't send off a red flag in my brain, and I said that I was an arsonist too. "I know" she said to me in response, when I questioned her as how she knew, she just that I just 'had that energy around me', like I was kindred spirit. There was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, she asked me "Do you want to join me?". I asked what she meant, and she said that there was an old building nearby that she was going to hit up, and she wondered if I wanted to come with.

I'll admit it, I was ecstatic when she offered. I was having trouble finding a good place to burn or to burn stuff in, along with the anxiety of getting caught for more easily there than here in the UK. So, I said yes. We both left the bar, and drove off in her car to this old building from directions Karina was giving me.

That's essentially what our 'partnership' was like for the next four months after that day. Karina would suggest a place to burn up, I'd drive us there, and it'd set ablaze. Usually it was abandoned, old buildings like when we first met, but every once and a while, Karina would just ask me to drive her to a place, and she'd burn it herself. She told me that she was more used to burning by herself, which I was fine with, but never once did I see her take any gasoline or flammable stuff in with her. Just her matchbox. And never once did she say that the places were abandoned.

All of it came to a point where my suspicions sort of… connected I suppose is the best way to describe it. All the places Karina burned herself, looked like pretty public places, and they just happened to be empty, or I assumed they were empty, but I never got that confirmed.

It was on the night of October 16th that our 'partnership' ended. We were staying in a motel like usual, when Karina threw her car keys next to me on my bed. I looked up at her and knew what she wanted, at that point it was almost routine as hunger. We got into the car and drove, and the directions she gave me lead us to what looked like a house, and it didn't even look like no one was home. The car was in the drive way, and it looked like the lights had just been turned off.

I looked to Karina, like surely she wasn't going to burn a home with a person or people still in it, right? But she said nothing. She got out of the car, I could hear her matchbox in her jacket pocket, and walked right up to the front door. I didn't even move to try and stop her, I just felt frozen and paralysed as she broke into that house. She didn't even break the door down, she just held the handle and from what I could see from the car, there was some smoke and steam, before she pushed herself against the door, and it opened.

I still didn't move. I sat there in the drivers seat, my thoughts racing. Was she really going to do this? The person who I considered my friend, was going to burn down a house with someone in it?

I missed my chance to do anything the moment she entered that house, because by the time I had gone to unclip my seat belt, I saw the smoke, then shortly, almost too quickly afterwards, I could see the flames, lighting up the living room before spreading throughout the rest of the house. I could only stare as the flames practically engulfed the house, and not too long after that, there was Karina, walking out the front door, patting out some small flames on her body, literally untouched.

She got back into the passengers seat, the smell of ash and smoke on her was fresh, looked at me and said "Drive". I wasn't sure what to do but I certainly was in no position to deny her. So we drove away. We were only nearing the exit out of the street when I heard the faint screams, but I knew it was too late for whoever was in there.

Most of our drive was silent, mainly since I was quietly panicking, and it seemed like Karina wasn't interested in striking up a conversation. I knew though, that I couldn't keep traveling with this person, it got me thinking back to all those other places she burned by herself, I basically an accomplice to possible more deaths. I decided then, while driving, that I needed to confront her about this, but definitely not at the motel.

I stopped the car on some road next to a bridge. Karina looked at me with a confused look, and I said that we needed to talk, but we'd talk outside of the car. She asked why but I just told her to get out of the car, surprisingly she complied and got out.

I honestly don't know where this courage came from since I was too much of a coward to stop her from setting a house on fire, but there was no turning back now.

I got out the car shortly after her, and faced her in front of the car. I practically blew up at her, asking her, questioning her about what just happened, was that just a 'one time thing'? were the others like this? did she lie to me? and just a bunch of yelling that I can barely remember. But do you want to know what her reaction was to that? Practically nothing! She just had this calm, almost bored look on her face, and once I stopped yelling and questioning her, she looked at me and asked "Are you done?"

I was stunned but she continued, said that it was like she said when we first met, that this was her hobby, she thought that I would understand, since I was 'like her'. I asked what she meant, and she said to me, "You and I, people like us, We destroy. Whether that be objects, buildings or people. Those will mean something to someone out there"

I didn't know what to say, I just thought back to all those abandoned buildings and lost objects. Perhaps once those did mean something to someone, or still did, and I destroyed them. I couldn't say anything else however when some poor fella's car stopped in front of us. He got out of his car and walked toward us, saying that he saw us arguing and wanted to know we were alright.

I wanted to tell the man to just leave, but Karina got to him before I could speak. She walked up to him and told to leave, that this was a private matter between the two of us, but the man didn't listen. He asked once again that if we were okay, since apparently our conversation seemed tense.

Karina didn't say anything, and I couldn't tell what her expression or reaction was from behind her, but I could guess as the man in front of her look confused. Then, she pulled out her matchbox, took out one of the matches, lit it, then turned to me, and said with a smile "This'll help you understand". I wasn't sure what she meant by that in the moment.

The man tried to reach out toward Karina, to get her to put the lit match down, but then she turned back toward him and grabbed the wrist of his outreached hand, and the man screamed out in pain as she her hand made contact with his skin.

I could see the smoke rising from her hand as she gripped onto his wrist, and before I could do anything, she placed the match onto her other hand. In an instant, her body became engulfed in flames, and then the flames spread toward the man, instantly burning him alive, screaming as it happened. The worst part was that it wasn't a fast or quick death, no, it was slow.

I was practically frozen in fear at this point, but the part that made more scared, was that there was no noise, no commotion from Karina, as she stood there, now just a silhouette of orange flames. I hate to admit it, but it oddly beautiful, even amongst the fear.

This thing that called herself 'Karina', turned to me, facing me fully, and she held out her hand toward me. I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to join her. But I didn't make any movement to do so, and instead, I backed away. She looked disappointed, as best as I could tell, when I did that, but she never moved toward me.

I took that as an opportunity to get away from her and the situation. I quickly got back into the car, and drove away. I glanced into the rear view mirror as I drove, and could see her just standing where I left her, making no move to come after me.

When I got back to the motel, I immediately started packing my things, and with the money I had I bought a plane ticket back to the UK for the morning. The person at the front desk asked where my friend was, and I just told them that she was in the car waiting for me, I just didn't want him to question why I was leaving on my own.

Then, I drove all the way to the airport, leaving Karina's car in the parking lot, and once the time for boarding came, I immediately left without hesitation. When I got back, I laid low for around a week before trying to at least go somewhere, anywhere. I was caught at a train station on October 22nd when I went to buy a ticket, some police woman apparently recognised me.

I never told them about what happened in America, and when they asked where I was for those five months, I said I was laying low, and they seemed to buy it. I was in jail for six months somehow, and I was on parole after that. Around a year later, I managed to get my current job.

Ever since then, I hadn't seen or heard anything about Karina, which I was relieved about, nor have I set anything on fire. I'm actually too scared to, honestly. When she wanted me to join her that night, a part of me wanted to, even if it was a small part, and I worry that if I even set one thing on fire, I'll become what she was.

LIBRARIAN Statement Ends.

… Okay then. Ayah listened to the first recording and asked me to do a follow up for the next statement I read. Apparently she wanted to find out what happened to the statement giver, so, I’m indulging her.

Andrew was able to get a copy of Mr. Grant’s criminal record and files, which shows that he did get a six month prison sentence, which is surprisingly light for an arsonist.

Regarding the ‘friend’ he made in America, any attempts to find someone named Karina without her last name has proven to be fruitless. Like trying to find a needle in a haystack. So, to attempt to find at least something, Hope searched for anyone named Karina who appeared in an Airport going to America sometime in 2015, which of course once again, pulled a lot of results considering we don’t know her last name, but one piqued my interest.

Karina Hunter, a missing person and wanted arsonist, who was last seen in Bromley Airport, April 28th, 2015. She’s not been seen since, at least not in the UK. I doubt it’s the same person however.

I hope this pleases you, Ayah.

[CLICK]

[rinwellisathing]

An Urge Of Another Sort (Sentry Ojeda, Dark Urge, Tiefling Oath of Vengeance Paladin)

Sentry had to escape his 'adoring Butler'. Yes, Sceleritas never called him a girl or insisted on the purpose his mother had. Yes Sceleritas always treated him as Bhaal's perfect chosen, fawned over his art work, and covered up his 'materials acquisitions', but Sentry needed to feel something. He needed something he hadn't felt since she had passed away. He felt an awkward churning in the pit of his stomach as he looked up at the sign above the building 'Sharess' Caress' Enver had told him he could find companionship here and usually Enver was right about these things. Sentry gulped and inhaled deeply before walking through the doors. Newly eighteen years old, Sentry stood five foot eleven inches and had a lean muscled handsomeness to him that complimented his soft, gentle features. Something that worked very well for luring victims, but here? He wasn't so sure. He wasn't looking for bloodshed or death tonight, and already he could feel father's disapproval hot and angry on the back of his neck, but he made his way to the front desk anyway. “Good evening, young man. Welcome to Sharess' Caress. What pleasure can we provide you tonight? No wait, don't tell me. Young, handsome, the bearing of a holy man, you seek punishment....divine punishment. A handsome drow with a sturdy whip, perhaps?” The elegantly dressed sharp faced beauty at the counter offered. “Oh um....m....maybe another time...I'm...I'm new...this is...um...I've never bought...” Sentry mumbled, his tail finding its way into his hands as he began to fiddle with it nervously. Stop it, Sentry, you look like a stupid child! He told himself. “Ah! Not to worry, lad! I've just the person. A moment please.” And the woman smiled coyly shuffling off and returning shortly after with a stout older woman with dark skin and a pair of spectacles dressed in wizard's robes. “This is Ffion, our Stern Librarian. She can teach you what's what.” Sentry blushed brightly and coughed. “Yes...Um...Perfect. Yes. Here.” He placed a bag of gold on the table and let the dwarven woman lead him upstairs. Once they entered the room, a massive replica of some famous wizard's tower or another, Sentry supposed, he looked around, still toying anxiously with his tail. The matronly dwarf's dour expression turned to a sympathetic smile and she patted him on the small of his back. “Alright, young man, I can tell when a client is nervous. So sit down, we can talk first, set some ground rules so you feel comfortable.” She showed him to a soft cushioned couch and helped him to sit down before hopping up beside him. “Now, simple enough to start, what did you come looking for tonight, what do you enjoy?” Sentry blinked. “Oh, I thought you'd just be...y'know...” and he made a whip cracking motion. “That's part of the show, just one thing my clients come for, but you're new and you're the customer. My job is to leave you feeling good.” Ffion explained gently.

“Oh...then...okay, this is going to sound so, so weird...you'll probably even be annoyed, but bear with me, yeah?” Sentry began, clutching his tail tighter and blushing. “I....I want to be held...and then you tell me you're very proud of me...and....and that I've done well...the rest doesn't matter.” Ffion blinked, adjusting her spectacles, then she gently placed a hand on his arm and nodded. “People come to this place for that all the time, love, you're hardly alone. There is no shame in paying for your needs, no matter how simple you might think they are. Come here.” And with that she gently embraced him, guiding his head down to her chest and stroking his carefully shorn and cropped silver hair.

[romeo-the-cactus]

was he actually a pioneer in the field or was he actually just a control freak

[effypcfc]

MADE A SHORT FANFIC INSPIRED BY THIS FANART!!!

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

Amity Blight is sitting alone in her room. Constantly bothered by her growing feelings for Luz Noceda, her human friend, who has recently helped her get her job at the library back, who she then rewarded with a kiss to the cheek, she does the one thing she can think of to process the whole thing.

Checking the hallways to see that neither Edric nor Emira are close by, she then closes her door, grabs a vial of abomination goo, casts a spell circle, and shapes two small blobs of goo into the likeness of herself and Luz. She then tries her best to imitate Luz's voice, making both figures talk to each other.

"Oh, Amity, your hair's different!" "Yeah, I thought I could use a change," She says, alternating between her usual speaking voice and her mock Luz voice. "It suits you. Makes you look prettier." Coyly, Amity then says "Aww, thanks," brushing her own hair behind her ear. "Thank you for saving my life the other night." Amity then makes Luz's figure kiss her figure on the cheek, imagining what could have been if the tables were turned. She was looking back to when she lost all inhibition that moment. That evening, being moved after realizing that Luz genuinely cares for her and wanted to make up for getting Amity fired from the library, after she helped her sneak into the Forbidden Stacks and getting caught by Malphas, the master librarian, her boss.

Emira, walking into Amity's room, noticing her play with both figures, teasingly greets "HEY MITTENS!"

Amity, blushing furiously, shrieks in surprise and embarassment.

"So, Luz, huh?"

Amity nods in resignation. It's not like she can lie about it anymore. Emira has caught her red-handed. She must have also overheard Amity's poor impression of Luz's voice on the way in, so there's no coming back from that now…

Emira then tells her "Who would have thought, just a couple months ago, you were being so mean to her, and now look at you, head over heels for this human girl. You even kissed her!"

Amity, flustered, sighs deeply in annoyance, then tells her sister "Yeah, I know that! But now… I can't stop thinking about her without catching myself smiling like an idiot." She then disintegrates both figures back into goo, and directs it all back into the vial.

"Though she has a thing for getting in trouble again and again, she's… genuinely nice. Nice to me, Willow, Gus too. Genuinely nice, unlike the other girls I'm friends with at school. I can't stop thinking about the next time we hang out together again. I can't stop thinking about wanting to hug her. I've never felt this way about anyone, ever! I'm Amity Blight, top student at Hexside... or, at least, I was. Still, I shouldn't be freaking out over this. I've faced a slitherbeast and lived, why does admitting my feelings for Luz feel this scary?"

"Just do it. Tell her how you feel. Just think, she may eventually have to go back to the Human Realm. You might not get another chance," Em says in reply.

"I know that," said Amity. "I will, in time, before she goes home. I gotta build up my courage first. Play it carefully, plan it out, you know…"

"I understand. Sometimes though, things like this don't need too much planning. You just let this girl know. You walk up to her, maybe on a good day, and tell her 'Hey, Luz! I like you, I like hanging out with you, and I think we should go out together, for real, this time. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?'" says Emira, giving Amity ideas, at the same time, flustering her at the thought of asking Luz to be her girlfriend. "Then, just hope for the best!" she adds.

Both girls have not noticed the open balcony door in Amity's room. Hooty then shoots up from the ground, and enthusiastically calls out to Emira. "HI-YA, BLIGHT SISTER!"

In one swift motion, Hooty then opens his mouth wide enough, darting straight for Amity before she has a moment to respond, and swallows her whole, rendering her unconscious instantly within Hooty's belly. Emira then shrieks in horror.

Belching loudly, Hooty then tells Emira "Mind if I borrow Amity for a bit? She'll be alright, I promise." Em nods in agreement, hands covering her mouth, too horrified to speak.

Hooty then slithers backwards towards the owl house, with a noticeable bulge in his serpentine midsection where Amity is, currently.

All within the span of less than an hour, Hooty makes his way to the house's basement, then regurgitates an Amity-sized owl pellet, a typewriter, and several tiny postcards. He places one of them on the machine, then types:

As we stumble through life gloom knows no bounds. You'll only find love when you're in the ground.

Hooty then pauses, realizing how morbid that sounds. He then turns the note backwards, then adds:

P.S. I mean the basement!

Love, HOOTY

He types one more letter, then speeds up to Luz's bedroom, leaves the note on the floor, knocks on her door, overhearing Luz gush about her desire to ask Amity out, all while fearing rejection, worrying she might find her too cheesy. He then disappears back into the basement, adding the finishing touches to his grand scheme to get the two lovebirds together…

the lumity kiss was perfect!! :D

[cafeacademia]

𝐁𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You head out to the bar after work, only to bump into Derek Morgan and his BAU coworkers. He tries to chat you up and get a date and as much as you like Derek (and think he's hot), he's not that professor looking nerd he came in with reading a psychology book in the middle of the bar on a Friday night...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Mentions of drinking alcohol (but there's no drunkenness), poor Derek gets let down gently but he's just kinda happy that someone thinks Reid is interesting, nerding out, going home together (but not in that way).

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 800

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hey!! Here's a little Spencer drabble, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think, feedback is really appreciated!

“Here, have one on me.” Derek said, ordering a drink for you. “Thanks. How did the case go?” You asked quietly. Derek had been chatting you up since he walked in. You both worked in the same building, but you were in a completely different department, so you had seen Derek around before, but you’d never really introduced yourself or chatted before. “It was alright in the end, we got a good ending to this one.” He told you, eyes warm and soft as a smile pulled at his lips. “I’m glad you did.” You replied.

“Mm well now that I’m back in town for a little bit, how about me and you get to know each other a little better? Maybe dinner? A night out? Name your price.” Derek proposed, but he was met with silence.

It was difficult to keep focus on Derek. He was handsome, there was no doubt in your mind that Derek Morgan was very hot. But when there was an equally hot professor type of guy sitting not far from you, it was difficult not to let your eyes wander in his direction. “You’re really sweet Derek, but you’re not my type. But that hot professor you came in with…” You trailed off.

Derek frowned, not because you turned him down but because it took him a second to realise who you were talking about.

“The kid?” He spun around on his seat, eyes landing on Spencer who was right in your line of sight and he turned back to face you. “You like the nerdy kid?” He sounded somewhere between amazed and confused as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at him.

“He’s pretty.” You said with an affirming nod. “I’ll introduce you.” Derek replied without any hesitation. “He’s a good guy, but he’s not a professor.” “Then what does he do?” You asked, more to yourself than to Derek, trying to decide if he was some kind of librarian or historian maybe. “You gotta ask him yourself.” Derek teased, getting up and gesturing for you to follow him.

“Spencer, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Derek interrupted Spencer’s silence. He had been sitting alone at a table with a half finished drink with his nose in a book. “Hmm?” It took Spencer a moment to stop reading and actually look up, expecting there to be some hot shot guy or a girl that wasn’t really even that interested in him. But when his eyes met yours, Spencer nearly dropped his book. “This is Spencer.” Derek introduced him. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Spencer corrected him, standing up to greet you politely. “But not the medical kind.” Derek finished off for him and then without you even noticing until he was on the other side of the bar, he left you standing in silence in front of Spencer.

“I’ve seen you around the office before.” Spencer was the first to speak. “You work for the FBI?” You asked softly. “Yeah, I’m a behavioural analyst.” He replied. “I’m a lab tech, I work downstairs on the days that I collaborate with teams.” You told him. “Tell me about your book, Doctor Reid.” Spencer was used to being called Doctor by everyone by now, but hearing you say it in your pretty voice while you looked up at him like that gave him butterflies. And with that, the pair of you sat at his table, Spencer quickly warming up to you and telling you about the study of psychology essays he was reading through and to be honest, you couldn’t have thought of a more interesting way to spend your evening in that bar.

“Wanna find somewhere more,” You began, pausing to think of the right word. “Quiet and intimate? Not in that way, I just meant-.”

“Yeah, quiet and intimate.” You smiled, agreeing with him and Spencer couldn’t help but mirror your smile. He felt so good, being with someone who wanted to listen, who wanted to talk with him, not stand there and drown him out while he talked and who would ask and chat with him and who wanted to spend time with him.

Spencer’s hand found yours, fingers brushing against your soft skin and gently slipped his fingers between yours before he guided you towards the door. Derek was going to tease the hell out of Spencer next week, but right now he didn’t care. Spencer just wanted to spend time with you and get to know you a bit more because he was already falling for you. If only he knew that you were falling for him too.

@reidsbookclub @russian-potatoes @hallecarey1 @deanhisbaby @alexxavicry @guridoodles @liltimmyst

[dragon-kazansky]

From the heart

Virgil Adamson x Reader

Virgil knew this town inside and out. He grew up here. He knew everyone. Everyone knew him. Until one day someone new comes along. His curiosity leads him back to the library where the mystery stranger works. Suddenly his whole perspective on the world changes and he has never wanted something as badly as this before.

Warnings: Mentions of nudity. Virgil is a masseuse in case you didn't know.

♡♡♡

Virgil knew this town in every way except for how it looked. He knew the roads, the buildings and those who occupy them. He knows his favourite places. He knows the people who surround him on the daily.

Today he was on his way to the library to pick up the braille books that had been brought in him for him. He was looking forward to them.

He walks the familiar path down the street greeting those he passes, knowing who they are by the sound of their car, or the shampoo they use, or simply by the way they say his name. He smiles and makes his way into the library.

He comes to a stop at the counter, knowing it will always be right there. He knows how many steps it takes from the door to reach it. His fingers brush against the solid wood lightly while he waits for the librarian to see to him.

He hears hushed voices near by. The sound of books being placed on a shelf behind him. The sound of the wonky wheel on the trolley they use to move books around. He hears a chair being pushed under a table as someone leaves.

He hears a voice. A voice he doesn't recognize. A pretty voice.

"Can I be of assistance?" They ask.

He's listening. He doesn't know this person. Someone new. Someone... interesting.

"My name is Virgil Adamson, I believe some books were put aside for me to pick up."

"Oh, of course! Bear with me a moment," they say. He listens as they step away from the counter to find his books. He can't help the soft smile on his face when he hears a small crash and a little curse word slip past their lips.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Oh, um, yes. I'm sorry. Your books, they're right here."

Something brushes against his fingers on the desk. He lifts his hands and slowly moves it to cover the object in front of him. He smiles, knowing they're for him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," they say, though they sound a little... sheepish.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asks.

"Yes. I just... dropped some things. Anyway, everything checks out here. Enjoy your reading."

"Thanks," he says, smiling.

He stands there for a second before gathering the books and making his exit. All the while unaware the person was watching him leave.

When Virgil gets home, Jennie is there waiting for him. He can hear her in the kitchen. He places his books on the table as he passes it and faces his sister.

"Shopping?" He asks.

"The usual things. Where were you?" She asks, though she knows where he had been. She had seen him put the books down.

"The library."

"You must be their favourite customer."

Virgil chuckles at that. He leans back against the kitchen counter beside where his sister was packing away the last if the shopping.

"There was someone new," he tells her.

"Oh yes. I saw them this morning." Jennie tells him your name. "Heard they got here a couple of days ago. Wanted to start anew in the country, so I hear."

"Is that so?"

"That's just what I've heard. I don't know them personally."

He smiles.

"I see."

"Very funny, Virgil."

The siblings laugh softly. Jennie finishes up packing away the shopping and then leaves her brother to own his devices for now.

The next day Virgil makes his way through town in the early hours. He has some time before he needs to catch his bus up to the resort. Places were just opening up for the day. The library is just up ahead and his mind takes him back to yesterday.

Were you working today? Would he hear your voice again? He wanted to.

Lost in his thought, he had taken his mind off his walking. He bumps into something solid and stumbles. Someone reaches out and grasps him by the arms, steadying him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there."

It's you! He smiles.

"I didn't see you either," he says. He doesn't hear you laugh and feels a little awkward. "I'm sorry. I was trying to be funny."

You then laugh a little and he smiles again.

"That was cute," you say.

Virgil stands there smiling widely. His heart seems to be racing for some reason. What is it about talking to you, even though he hasn't said much to you, that has him feeling so... excited?

"You're new here, aren't you?" He asks.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I am. I've been here 3 days now."

"Why here?" He asks.

"Because this town his charming. It's quiet and everything a bit slower than the city. I fell in love it with it," you say. He can hear the smile in your voice. He finds himself wishing he could see it.

He thinks you must have a very pretty smile.

"Welcome to our little sleepy hollow, then. I'm sure you'll be seeing me around," he says. "I'm Virgil, by the way."

You tell him your name. He can hear your smile again.

"It was nice meeting you, Virgil, but I better get to work. See you around."

"Yeah, see you."

He hears your laugh again and smiles once more. It's such a heartfelt sound. So pure and honest. You think he's funny. He likes that.

He hears you walk away. Once he can no longer hear you, he walks on. He takes his walk and then catches his bus, all the while with you on the brain.

For years this town has provided him with same thing over and over again. A comfortable and safe place to live in. A place he can be Virgil without worry. A home. But it never provided what he needed to feet his curiosity. Never anything new to dive into and explore. Nothing different and exciting.

You were different and exciting.

He was excited about the very prospect of you being here. He wanted more.

Virgil doesn't cross paths with you for a few days. He's waiting for his sister in town when he hears your voice. He smiles at the very sound of it. It was quickly becoming his favourite thing to listen out for. You're talking to someone, saying goodbye. Your steps get louder as you get closer to where he is sitting and then, "oh, hello Virgil."

He smiles and tilts his head up in your direction.

"Hello."

"Who's your friend?" You ask.

"This is Jessie."

You sit down beside him on the bench and his dog, Jessie, looks up at you.

"Hello Jessie," you say. "What are you doing sitting on this bench?" You ask, clearly talking to him now.

"Waiting for my sister."

"Ah, I see. Shall I keep you company until she shows up?" You offer.

"Only if I'm not keeping you from anything," he says.

He hears you chuckle softly. "Not at all. I was only going to head home anyway."

Virgil can hear your soft breathing. He can hear the slight rustle of your coat as your arm brushes against his ever so slightly. He wonders what you're looking at, or what you're thinking.

"What do you do for fun around here?" You ask him.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. I don't really know anyone in this town, and you're the only person I've spoken to this much. Maybe you can share some insight, excuse the word, into this town with me."

He chuckles.

"I like to skate."

"Skate?"

"I'm a hockey fan. I like to skate. There's a lake just outside of town that I like to go to. It freezes over and I can skate on it."

"Cool," he hears you mutter. "That's impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. What else do you do?" You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours. There's something about you asking about him that sets his heart racing again

"I gove messages at the resort. I'm told I'm good with my hands."

You chuckle.

"You rely on touch," he hears you say.

"Mmhm. My hands help me to see."

He wonders what you're thinking again.

"Do you think you'd have time to take on a new client?" You ask him.

"I think I can fit you in somewhere." He smiles.

"Nice. I need to see for myself that you have talented hands," you tease.

"Guess you will."

"Virgil!"

Virgil turns his head to look up at where his sister's voice came from. He hears her coming over and Jessie stands up. He hears you get up too and finds himself following.

"Jennie," be greets her.

"Ah, your new friend," Jennie says. Virgil smiles.

"They were keeping me company."

"I'm Jennie. His sister. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," he hears you say.

"We better get going, Virgil."

"Alright." He turns his head to you. "Don't forget to book an appointment. I'll be waiting for you."

"I promise," you say.

Virgil smiles at you before leaving with his sister. As they walk away, Jennie looks at her brother.

"You have this look on your face."

"I do?" He asks.

"Yes. What are you thinking about?"

He smiles. "Them."

"Just be careful, Virgil. I don't want you to get hurt."

His smile fades. "I know. I just... I want something. I want... this. This feeling. The one I get when I talk to them. I want to feel it."

Jennie falls quiet.

Two days later Virgil is working. He washes his hands in preparation of his next client. He knew who it was. He always asked for the names of his clients so he could greet them when they came in. Virgil can't help smiling at himself knowing you had make the appointment like you said you would. He dries his hands and walks over to the table.

"You can come in," he says, knowing you're lingering out there.

He hears you come into the room.

"Hi," you speak quietly.

"Hi," he responds just ad quietly. His lips twitching into a smile.

"I can turn my back if it makes you more comfortable, but you'll need to take off your clothes and get on the table for this."

He hears you chuckles.

"No peeking," you tease.

Virgil laughs. "I promise."

Out of respect Virgil turns his back. He hears you undress and waits for your permission to turn back around. He hears you climb onto the table.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Virgil turns back around and with expertise he reaches for his oils. He picks one he thinks will suit you and rubs it on his hands.

"I'll look after you," he says.

"I trust you."

He reaches out and lightly touches your back. The smallest of gasps escapes your lips.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. I just... I've never had a massage before."

"I promise I won't go too deep. Not unless you want me to."

"I trust you," you say again.

Virgil continues to massage your back deeply. His fingers digging and pressing in all the right places. For the first minutes you're quiet, but when he hits that one spot between your shoulders, you let out a small content moan.

He smiles. You're enjoying it. You're enjoying his craft. Though he likes his job, he sometimes enjoys more than on other days. Today, he is enjoying it fully. This may be your first time here, but he will happily admit you're his favourite client.

In fact, he would happily say you were his favourite person in this town. You're refreshing. You talk to him like any other person. His disability does not get in the way of you talking to him or being with him. You treat him like Virgil.

He likes it. He likes how you make him feel. Perhaps the same as he seems to be making you feel.

Virgil massages your arms in a slow steady rhythm. His hand comes close to wrapping around yours. Oh, how he would love to hold your hand. How would it feel in his?

"How is it?" He asks.

You hum in response. He chuckles. "It's so good. You're good."

"Do my hands meet your expectations?" He asks, referring to the conversation about how good he is with his hands.

"Yes. Yes they do."

"Do... do you want me to do your legs? Or was this enough?"

There's a pause before he hears you turn over on the table. He stands beside you wondering if you're looking up at him or not.

"You can carry on. I'm okay. Are you?" You ask him.

His hand brushes along your arm. His fingers trailing up to your hand. He feels your own fingers relax.

"I'm okay," he whispers.

His hand leaves yours as he steps to the end of the table. He comes to a stop and faces you. There's a brief pause before he reaches out and takes your leg in his hands. His fingers press into your skin. He hears your breath hitch and moves his hands up toward your knee, massaging your leg thoroughly.

His fingers glide across your knee. He seems to hesitate from going any further.

"Virgil."

"Hm?"

"It's okay."

His hands rises further up your leg. He massages the flesh of her thigh. He wonders if you can hear his heart. Higher he goes. He stops himself before he goes to far, but doesn't let go. His hands only move to the other leg to give it the same attention.

You're enjoying this.

His hand lingers on your leg before he let's go entirely.

"Times up."

He steps back from the table and then disappears behind the screen to go wash his hands. He hears you sit up on the table. You don't seem to move a moment, but then he he hears you gathering your clothes from where you left them. You change and linger by the door.

"That was wonderful, Virgil. You really do have the magic touch. I, uh, I'll be going now. Thank you. Really, thank you! I enjoyed that. See you soon," you say. He hears you leave.

Virgil leans against the sink and sighs. His heart is running a marathon in his chest. He digs his fingers into the basin of the sink and bows his head forward.

He's never felt so... What was this feeling?

Was this a crush? Was this what that felt like?

He doesn't know.

Virgil doesn't see you for a few days. He actively avoids the town if he can. He's confused. He feels this deep bubbling emotion in his chest and he doesn't know how to express it.

Jennie had noticed a shift in his personality, but didn't ask. Somehow she just knew. She knew her brother. She had only seen him with you the once, but there was also that time he talked about you after he met you for the first time. He liked you.

To try and escape these thoughts Virgil went up to his lake. With his skates and his stick, Virgil got ready to skate. He glides across the pond and loses himself in the moment.

He's not sure how long he is out there for, but it's clearly long enough for someone to come looking for him.

"Jennie said you might be out here."

Using his stick for assistance, Virgil comes to a stop on the ice. He leans against it as he looks up in your general direction.

"You were looking for me?"

"Yes."

He hears you walk down to the bank to stand at the edge of the lake. He skates a little closer so he can be near you.

"Do you skate?" He asks.

"I used to rollar skate. Not any more."

He let's go of the stick with one hand and holds it out to you. He fingers twitch slightly while anticipates your touch. He hears the snow crunch under your shoe. Warmth fills his palm as you take his hand. His fingers wrap around your hand as he pulls you close to him carefully. You skid slightly across the ice and collide into him a little. He chuckles as he helps steady you. Your grab his arm tightly.

So that's what your hand felt like.

"Just hold onto me. Don't think about the ice. Just... glide. Leave the skating bit to me."

You hold onto his arm tight as he pushes off. He keeps a steady hold on you as he takes you around the lake. He can feel you wobble a bit, but your hold on him helps him keep you upright.

"Can you feel the chill on your face? The breeze in your hair?"

"Yes."

He smiles. "Do you hear the birds in the trees? The sound of my skates on the ice?"

"Yes."

"This is what I like to do. This is where I come when I need to think."

He hears your soft breathing.

Virgil slows the gliding down and brings you to a stop near the side of the bank. He let's his stick fall into the snow and then falls down into the snow himself. The hold he has on your hand allows him to pull you down into the snow with him. He hears you laugh.

Virgil rests on his side, facing toward you.

"Why were you looking for me?" He asks.

Your breath fans across his face lightly. He realises just how close he is to you. You don't seem to make any habit to move.

"I wanted to see you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," you chuckle. "I haven't seen you in town for a few days. I thought maybe you were just busy up at the resort, but I saw your sister and she said you had just been keeping to yourself. I was worried I had done something to maybe make you want to avoid me. I would very sad if that was the case."

Virgil runs his tongue across his lip.

"Did I upset you?" You ask him.

"No. Not at all."

"Were you avoiding me?" You ask next.

"No. Well... yes. But not because I was upset with you."

"Then why?"

"I..." Virgil sighs. He doesn't know how to explain it. He doesn't understand. Not really. "You make me... feel things."

He hears that small hitch in your voice again.

"When I'm with you... everything feels new. It's refreshing. Ive lived in this town pretty much all my life. It's safe and it's comfortable. I know everyone. I knew everyone until you came along. You were refreshing and funny."

"Funny?" You chuckle.

"When I came for those books. You dropped them and you swore under your breath. I heard you. It was cute."

"Oh..." He can hear the smile in that simple word.

"Then we bumped into each other and I made a joke. Remember?"

"Yes. You apologised for it."

"But then you said I was funny," Virgil grins. "And then on that bench you talked to me. You asked me things. You wanted to hear my thoughts on the town. Well, it's quiet and its comfortable, but I like it a lot more now you're here. Then that massage... I rely on touch to help me see. I have this image of you in my mind, but I'll never be able to see it. See you. But you haven't brought up my blindness once. You haven't asked about it. You're not bothered about my lack of sight."

"Of course not. Your blindness does not define you, Virgil."

He feels his heart racing.

"I like you," he says. "I really like you. You spend time with me, I hope, because you like me too."

Virgil falls quiet.

In this moment he wished he could see you. He wanted to know what you were thinking. He wanted to know what you were feeling.

He gasps softly at the feel of your fingers on his cheek. You then move your hand so your palm is covering his cheek. He feels your thumb run across the skin just under his glasses.

"I do like you, Virgil. I like the way you see the world without seeing. You appreciate the little things more than other people. The way things sound. The way things feel. I like the way you talk about things. I haven't known you long and I know there's a lot of things I still have to learn about you, but Virgil, I do like you. It's why I came looking for you. I would have been very sad if I thought I had offended you somehow."

Virgil places a hand over yours and leans into your touch. He smiles.

"I want to learn all about you," he says.

"And I want to learn all about you, Virgil."

"Can... Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes," you whisper.

Virgil leans down and slowly presses his lips against yours. Your lips are soft against his. This feels right. You feel right. You feel like home.

He pulls away just a little bit.

"This is new for me," he confesses.

Your hand is still settled on his face. You're keeping his cheek warm.

"That's okay. We can take this slow."

He smiles.

"You're very handsome when you smile," you tell him.

"Am I?"

"Yes. Very."

Virgil chuckles. He leans down and kisses you again. He could get so used to this. You chuckle as you pull away from him this time.

"As fun as this, I'm getting rather cold in the snow."

He chuckles and gets up to his feet. He holds his hand out to you. He feels your hand take his and Virgil pulls you up to your feet. You chuckle as you stumble into him. You're both still on the ice, so he helps you up onto the bank.

Virgil changes out of his skates and you grab his hockey stick. When you return to his side you take his hand again. The pair of you make the trip back home.

For once in his dark world there is light. That light comes in the form of you.

He looks forward to what awaits him with you by his side.

[crispys-corner]

One of my personal heroes, Gary Paulsen, would have led a vastly different life if public libraries weren’t around.

The year is 1958. Gary Paulsen is 15 years old. It is winter in Minnesota, and he is freezing to death. His parents are physically and verbally abusive, and are too busy drinking constantly to feed him or buy him clothes or care about him in any way that matters. Since he was 10 or 11, he has hunted with a homemade bow to feed himself, run away multiple times, and has worked odd jobs and stolen to buy himself school supplies and clothes. He doesn’t have any friends. He struggles in school. At 15, he can barely read and write. He’s absent from school often. On a day like today, where his parents have been cooped up inside because of the cold and drinking since they woke up, Gary can’t be home. It’s safer for him outside. He doesn’t own a heavy jacket, just a worn canvas jacket. He knows if he doesn’t find warmth soon, he’ll get hypothermia or worse.

He sees a public library. Since he was a teen, he has avoided government and federal buildings. He doesn’t trust authority. He has twice run away, and twice been dragged back by cops. He knows that loitering in a building like a library is a way to get arrested. But he’s desperate. He goes inside and stands barely in the doorway, just inside, trying to be inconspicuous. There is a table of old women talking and knitting. There’s a librarian behind the desk. Other than that the library is empty. He stays and warms himself up until the librarian looks at him, at which point he leaves. He comes again the next day, and the librarian pointedly ignores him. The old women are still there. Each day he goes a bit further into the library, eventually sitting down and picking up National Geographic magazines to look at the pictures.

One day, the librarian walks up to him.

“Do you want a library card?”

Gary responds “I don’t have any money.” He knows that if you aren’t buying something, public spaces don’t exist. She tells him it’s free, and he again responds “I don’t have anything.” He doesn’t believe her. She’s an adult, and he doesn’t trust adults. She tells him all she needs is his name and address, and he goes along with it because he’s worried he’ll get in trouble. She fills it out for him, and picks out a book for him. It’s a typical adventure novel for young boys. A boy stranded in the jungle, who “conquers” the savage wilderness and thrives. Gary paulsen reads a barely 200 page book over the course of three weeks, rereading passages essentially teaching himself how to read. He returns to the library and gives the book back to the librarian. She asks him if he enjoyed it, and he says that it sucked. In the real world, the wilderness is terrifying, you don’t conquer it. He had spent time in the Phillipines as a child where his father was stationed in WW2, and saw horrors there. Caves with corpses of Japanese soldiers being devoured by rats. He told her about them; he had never opened up to anybody about it before.

She gives him another book. He gets better at reading. He talks to the old ladies. One day the librarian gives him a notepad and a pencil and tells him she wants to hear what HIS stories are. She wants to know what he experiences in the woods. So he starts writing. And he never stopped. Years later he would publish “Hatchet”, an award-winning novel about a young boy who gets stranded in the woods. He would publish over 200 novels, short stories, and plays in his lifetime.

This is because a librarian whose name he never knew believed in him and encouraged him, and he was allowed to read books at the library. Without growing up reading Paulsen’s books, I wouldn’t be a writer today. Public libraries are one of the most important amenities for society.

I love the library