#there is something nice to think about though that i got to be a part of this kids future 'oh my god that was so embarassing' moment JSJDKSJ

[triplefrontierbabe]

2 Hands Lando Norris Imagine

smau linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: suggestive content, language

a/n: this is part of a request paired with a smau, linked above

Ask any woman what their favorite part of a man is and she will most likely say his hands. There’s just something so innocently sensual about man hands, especially if they’re the hands of a racing driver.

It’s no secret that using your significant other as inspiration for your work is one of the highest forms of flattery, especially when it comes to art. And ever since you met Lando Norris, he has been your muse for your work. Every song somehow suddenly was about him, he’s all you thought about. Now that your second world tour has come to an end it’s the perfect time to get back in the studio and you have the perfect idea of what to do.

To be honest, one of the first things you noticed about Lando was his hands and how they looked like they were carved from marble. The mere sight of him holding a coffee cup made your mind wander like no other. All you could think of was how his hands looked on your body and how he would touch you with such gentleness and care. Occasionally you’d sneak a photo of his hands while you were around him. Soon enough he realized the obsession of his hands that you had developed.

One night you and Lando were heading out for a nice dinner when you pulled out your phone to take a photo of you two in the elevator mirror. Lando immediately grabbed your phone out of your hands and moved his hand from your hips to the front of your stomach, and dangerously low might you add. You blushed at his actions, knowing your not so secret obsession had been found out.

“I know you like them.” Lando said cheekily handing the phone back to you as your face broke out in a blush yet again.

“Can you blame me though?” You asked, grabbing his right hand and examining the rings he had on. Those rings were another weakness of yours. The way the cool metal clashed with your burning skin made your whole body shiver. His hands were going to be the death of you.

“Write a song, it’ll last longer.” He responded with a mischievous smile as the elevator door opened. You looked over your shoulder at him and rolled your eyes.

“You know I just might, Norris.” You said as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Atta girl.” He said laying a light smack on your ass which earned a whispered scold from you.

A song about his hands is exactly what you wrote. The writing process for this song was probably the fastest you had ever written a song in your entire life. Your producer was shocked when you got to the studio and had to make minor changes to the lyrics, it was practically perfect– like Lando’s hands.

While Lando was halfway across the world for a race you facetimed him to play a demo of the song for him.

“You mean it?” He asked, looking at your face on his screen with a look of disbelief.

“Every word.” You simply replied, giving Lando a sly smile.

“What about a music video?” Lando inquired, shifting in his seat.

“Okay, hear me out” you began “I was thinking about incorporating cars into it somehow, maybe a McLaren or something.”

“A McLaren, huh?”

“I dunno, just a thought. Could be a fun little easter egg.” You responded by shrugging your shoulders while stealing a glance at his hands that were barely in sight on the phone.

Before you knew it music video rehearsals had arrived. On your first day of rehearsal you walked into the studio to see a box wrapped in bright orange- or papaya- wrapping paper with a big blue bow on top. There was a card attached that read ‘although this isn’t a sports car, i hope this gives you some inspiration ;) -4’. Lando had gifted you one of those battery operated kids’ McLaren F1 cars.

Another month had passed of working on 2 Hands but it was finally ready to be promoted, and so was your relationship with Lando. Since you started dating him, small easter eggs of your relationship had been sprinkled throughout your instagram posts.

But the post you made announcing that you had new music coming out, you decided to be bold. You included a picture of you on the toy car that had Lando’s number on the front. But the kryptonite of the post was the last picture which was a closeup of Lando with his hands on his helmet with his hand veins on full display. You had spent hours of looking through social media for the perfect photo of his hands, many thanks to the thousands of other girls who were just as enamored with his hands as you were.

The minute you posted, your phone was blowing up with countless fans speculating a relationship between you and the famed driver but more so, the attention was on his hands like you wanted it to be.

Abu Dhabi rolled around which was a big weekend for the both of you. Lando won the race, McLaren won the Constructors’ Championship and 2 Hands was released. You were with Lando at the hotel basking in his victorious weekend and listening to your new song. It was a perfect weekend and you couldn’t have imagined it to be any other way.

“I fucking love this song.” Lando said, grabbing you by the waist giving you a deep kiss. “But I love you way more.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Lan.” You replied, raking your hands through Lando’s curly hair. “I love how everyone loves your hands too. Did you know there’s pinterest boards dedicated to your hands?”

“Of course there are.” He responded by throwing his hand back in laughter. This moment was perfect, just being in the same room as him celebrating your accomplishments together.

“But, I’m the only one that knows what they feel like.” You said with a wink.

“Well, look at you Miss Possessive.”

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @r0nnsblog @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you

[goshikisbaee]

Spending Valentine’s Day With Haikyuu Characters (part 1)

content: Fluff

[ Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi ]

———-

TŌRU OIKAWA

Valentine’s Day with Oikawa is nothing short of extra. From the moment you wake up, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting for you with a note in his neat handwriting: “For the most beautiful person in my life.” He insists on making the day perfect— though his definition of “perfect” may include a little too much of his dramatic flair.

He shows up to pick you up in his favorite casual but classy outfit, grinning like he’s just won a championship match. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you, my love?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He takes you to a cute café where he spends half the time holding your hand across the table and the other half bragging about how he managed to snag the “best date” in the world. The barista can’t help but roll their eyes at his antics, but you can’t stop laughing.

In true Oikawa fashion, the evening involves stargazing—because of course he has to incorporate something romantic and dreamy. Lying beside you, he points out random constellations, only half accurate because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you.

“I dont need the stars when I’ve got you,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Cheesy? Absolutely. But with him, it’s always endearing.

The night ends with him pulling you close, a soft, genuine smile replacing his usual cocky grin. “Thank you for being my Valentine,” he whispers, his voice quieter than usual. “I promise, you’ll always be my number one.”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI

Valentine’s day with Iwaizumi is simple but meaningful. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but he makes sure you feel loved in the ways that matter. When you wake up, there’s a nearly wrapped box on your nightstand—inside is a practical yet thoughtful gift, like a hoodie that smells like him or your favorite snacks. “Didn’t wanna get you something useless,” the note reads.

When he picks you up, he’s dressed casually, but you cant tell he put in a little extra effort—his hair is styled just right, and he’s actually wearing that nice cologne you love. He greets you with a gruff, “you look nice,” before quickly looking away, ears slightly red.

Dinner is at his favorite spot—nothing fancy, just good food and a comfortable atmosphere. He doesnt gush over you like someone like Oikawa would, but his small actions say everything: making sure you get the last bite, keeping his hand on your knee absentmindedly, sending a death glare at anything who looks at you for too long.

After dinner, he surprises you with a late night drive, ending at a quiet scenic spot. Sitting beside you, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at the sky. “I know I dont say it a lot, but… I’m really lucky to have you.” His fingers find yours, squeezing them gently.

Before you part ways, he pulls you into a warm, lingering hug, resting his chin on your head. “Happy Valentine’s Day idiot,” he mutters, voice softer than usual. You smile, knowing that even without the over the top romance, every moment with him is real.

TETSURŌ KUROO

Valentine’s Day with Kuroo is fun—because, of course, he turns everything into an opportunity to tease you. You wake up to a text that reads; “Happy Valentine’s Day to my favorite nerd. Yes, you’re my favorite. No you can’t tell anyone.” A few minutes later, another message: “wear something cute. Not that you need help looking good, but, you know… for my sake.”

When he picks you up, he greets you with his signature smirk and a ridiculous gift—maybe a cat plushie because “it reminded me of myself. Handsome, charming, and definitely your favorite.” But before you can roll your eyes, he hands you something real—your favorite snack or a small thoughtful present that proves he actually pays attention.

Dinner is at a casual yet surprisingly nice restaurant, where he spends half the time making flirty comments and the other half pretending to listen while secretly just admiring you. “You know, I’d let you ramble about anything if it means I get to keep looking at you.”

After dinner, he takes you somewhere unexpected—maybe a late night arcade or a rooftop with a city view. Sitting next to you, he finally drops the teasing for a second, nudging your shoulder before saying, “you know, I joke around a lot, but I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before the night ends, he pulls you into by the waist, looking down at you with that lazy grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Hope you’re ready for many more.” And with that, he finally gives you the kiss he’s been holding off all night.

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

Valentine’s Day with Bokuto is non stop excitement from the moment it begins. You wake up to a spam of texts:

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!”

“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS???”

“IT’S THE DAY I GET TO SPOIL YOU, DUH.”

When he finally picks you up, he’s practically bouncing with energy, holding a massive bouquet—probably way bigger than necessary. “I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I got all of them!” He grins, handing them over like he just won an award.

Your date is a mix of everything fun—he takes you to an arcade, a cute café, and maybe even a spontaneous adventure like ice skating (which he’s surprisingly good at). Every few minutes, he reminds you, “BEST. DAY. EVER.” And insists on taking a million selfies.

At dinner, he’s a mix of loud excitement and soft admiration, stuffing his face one second and staring at you like you hung the moon the next. “I’m so lucky,” he sighs dramatically between bites, before pointing his fork at you. “Hey. You know that, right? That I love you?”

The night ends with him wrapping you in the biggest hug ever, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. “Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he declares, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. Then, with a cheeky grin, he adds, “same time next year? Actually, scratch that. Every day should be like this.”

KEIJI AKAASHI

Valentine’s Day with Akaashi is quietly romantic, filled with soft gestures that show just how much he cares. You wake up to a neatly written note left at your bedside—“happy Valentine’s Day. I hope today is as wonderful as you are.” A little later, he texts: “Are you free? I have something planned.”

When he picks you up, he hands you a small but meaningful gift—maybe a book you mentioned wanting, or a handwritten letter sealed in an envelope. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I just got something that reminded me of you.”

Your date is simple but perfect—maybe a quiet bookstore café, a scenic walk, or a cozy home-cooked dinner. He pays attention to everything you say, responding with soft hums and amused smiles. “I love listening to you talk,” he admits, twirling a piece of his food with his fork.

At the end of the night, he lingers at your doorstep, eyes gentle but hesitant. “I, um…” He exhales, gathering his thoughts before finally meeting your gaze. “I just want you to know that I’m really, really happy with you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, lips curling into the faintest smile. “I hope I get to spend all of them with you.”

———

[edward-munson]

I don't care | S.H.

Summary: Taking care of Steve after he was attacked by an army of demobats seems like a lot of work, only because apparently he doesn't like you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of injury, allusion to smut

Word count: 2.2k

☆°•○♡

"You want them spicy or not?" You ask Steve as you make nachos for dinner for both of you.

He's lying on the couch, on his back. He still recovers from the attack of the demobats. His neck is almost fully scarred, but the bites on his stomach and his sides are still painful. You've been laying low together for close to two weeks.

Your friends didn't want to make you team up with them to find Vecna and kill him. Not that you're not brave or strong enough to do so. But you're still pretty new to all of this and someone had to stay with Steve. So you didn't even bother opposing the idea, even though he's not your biggest fan.

God knows why, he never told his reasons. And your friends didn't know either. Maybe Eddie did, but he wouldn't open his mouth about it.

"I still think this is really unnecessary. I'm not a fucking child" He complains as he walks past the kitchen door, leaning against the sink.

With crossed arms, he looks at your food. You made chilli beans, guacamole and cheese sauce for the spicy nachos. You look up at him, trailing your eyes on his neck for an instant before raising an eyebrow to him.

"You can't even hold your own weight, Harrington. Stop being a crybaby".

Steve scoffs at you, but doesn't move an inch from his position. "Jesus, I wish we had another plan".

You drop the spoon you were using, turning your face to look at him. "I'm only doing this because they asked me to. Get off your own ass".

You leave the kitchen, walking out to the bedroom you were sleeping on. You were staying at his house. It's not like there were other options, but you couldn't refuse to stay there when he's alone and barely walking. Well, he can walk. The worst part is that he needs rest because of his wounds.

The past two weeks you've been quite getting along. Not that much, really. It's not like you were friends. Probably more like close acquaintances. Because obviously, he was the one pushing you away.

You didn't leave your room for a while, you were too annoyed to eat, and since it was dinner for the two of you, it didn't feel like you should eat anymore. You decided to spend your time watching something on the TV, which would easily make you get bored.

And then you would read books, or write stuff. It's been pretty tough lately since Vecna appeared. Max almost got killed and now she was staying at Dustin's house. The other kids were coming back to Hawkins to help, maybe Eleven might be able to do something about that.

You actually wished you were doing something fun. Like, taking a trip to the beach or snowboarding since it's fall and the weather has been cold. Your thoughts were pushed back by a knock on the door. Steve didn't open it and you didn't mention doing it either, so he just stayed there.

"Sorry I was an idiot" His voice came out muffled through the closed door. "I know I've been cranky and annoying".

You only opened the door after a couple of minutes, not exactly sure if he was still there. But he looked up from the floor at you. "You used to be nice. I mean, way before this curse happened".

He stayed quiet, because you were right. But what else can he do if the world was turned upside down (almost literally) again? And you almost got them killed once, not on purpose of course.

You were also the one to get too close to Robin and he hated seeing his best friend sharing her friendship with someone else. Because up until then, he was the only one she was the closest he had to a friend, even though he had a strong relationship with Eddie too.

None of it was your fault, but he grew annoyed over you. He couldn't lie to himself and say you weren't too kind and helpful. But he started to become extremely unenthusiastic over you through the year.

"A lot has happened since then. I'm trying to live up to the fact that we're against another monster again" Steve leans an arm against the doorframe, but refuses to keep his gaze at you.

"Which isn't my fault, by the way. Not to mention I'm the one who pulled you out of the watergate before you were eaten".

Another few seconds of silence, which was followed by a sarcastic nasal laugh. He shook his head and hung it low to the floor.

"Oh, you want a prize for that? Because I remember clearly when I didn't ask for your help!" His words were harsh, even if not intended.

But now you were the one who didn't know what to say. Until you feel the bitter taste on your tongue.

"Guess I should've let them rip your skin apart, then".

He saw the door shutting in front of him, cursing himself for being extremely idiotic and insensitive. He almost felt like punching his own face for that.

Steve heard you talking to Eddie that night through your walkie talkie. It was a little bit hard to hear because the reception was static for you. But you could listen to Eddie and God, you missed him and the others. It started to become unbearable to live with Steve. He heard you lament the whole situation, complaining about the way you were treating each other.

He was bitter about the things they were going through. He was angry he couldn't have done more. And he was taking it out all on you. He couldn't face another apology on the same day, because he knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Not right now.

The next day, he made breakfast by himself. It took you by surprise, but by the time you were up, he had already eaten. And you wouldn't want to eat with him either. You remember Nancy saying the bickering was just "sexual tension" but you knew it didn't have anything to do with that.

Even though you felt your ears burning from the thought, you couldn't deny to yourself that he was pretty charming. And seeing him shirtless whenever he would change the gauze made you feel weird. God, his hair was always pretty while yours looked like a bird nest after waking up.

The day seemed to have lasted longer since you haven't exchanged a single word to each other. He was focused on watching movies, playing video games and listening to music. He was getting bored out of his mind, but there wasn't much he could do being injured.

You, on the other hand, went out to do some errands. In fact, you didn't care you left him alone. You were getting tired of staying inside. So you went to see Max, and invited her to eat at Burger King. She seemed to feel better to do something like that too. Everything seemed pretty fuzzy lately.

Will, Mike and Eleven were pretty close to Hawkins. Thanks to Argyle who thinks he's a speed racer, and Jonathan who encourages him to drive long hours so they can arrive as soon as possible.

It was almost 7 PM when you came back home. You've finally had some fun after a week. You obviously couldn't be going out since they still haven't found Vecna and he knows about you too. The man in front of you seemed pretty pissed that he didn't see you were out until he woke up two hours ago.

"What? Don't give me that father look" You dropped your backpack on the floor and followed upstairs.

He's got a whole show prepared and he wasn't feeling like he would regret it this time.

"You know you can't just fucking go out and yet, you still do" He walked behind you, like a mother scolding a child.

"Yeah, dad. I know so. But here I am, back in pieces" You turned on your heel to look at him before closing your door.

Much to your dismay, he was faster this time, holding it with his right foot and right hand. Even injured, he was still stronger than you.

"No, don't push it. You can be an easy target for him, you know that?"

You huff, dropping your arm to your side. "Look, Harrington. I'm an adult, and I'm very aware of what I do or don't do. So please, just stop making a scene and leave me the fuck alone".

Steve couldn't even stand arguing with you anymore, it was so tiring. But he knew he would blame himself if something ever happened to you out there. He couldn't let this happen to you, even though you've been annoying him for whatever reason.

He took a step towards you, his hands balling into fists. The way your eyes were boring into him in an unamused face irritated him even more.

"Look, honey" His tone was purely sarcastic and you felt it not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. "You know you're putting yourself at risk doing that. If I'm not fucking sure you're safe as well, I won't live with that".

At each passing second, you could feel him walking to you, but you couldn't walk back. You couldn't run from him, you couldn't get away from him. You wouldn't, you didn't feel like you wanted to.

"And not just because of my friends, they sure would kill me. But because I couldn't lose another person" You feel his breathing hitting your face, his eyes flicking as he looks at you.

He looks down at you with such intensity, it's crazy how there's a magnetic pull towards him.

You hold his gaze, feeling a cold shiver down your spine. He didn't look like he was about to snap at you, even though his tone was a bit loud.

He furrows his brows when he sees your lip curling into a smirk. "Well, Steve" His fingers move by the sound of his name, you always call him Harrington. "I thought you didn't care if I died or not".

This time, he was the one to smirk at you. "Honey, I don't remember saying I never cared about you".

Your stomach sank at that. Because now as you think of it, it comes crashing down as a realization that he never really said anything related to that. He truly never spoke about it.

"Doesn't seem like it"

"You see, this is why you annoy me so much" His nose bumps into yours, but he still gazes at you like he doesn't mean to avoid eye contact.

"Yeah? Then you should–" He doesn't let you finish your sentence.

Steve crashes his lips against yours, his hands flying down your hips. He feels your immediate reaction as you don't correspond right away. For a few seconds, he thinks he's done the wrong thing and almost regrets it, until you grab him by the neck with both hands. You wrap your fingers around his neck, your fingertips grazing the nape of his hair.

Your lips are smacking his lips in a hurry, while he runs a hand to cradle your face. He slips his tongue into your mouth and holds his breath when he feels your tongue moving in sync with him. He doesn't want to admit this is what he wished he could've done before.

Steve has been so stressed lately that he could only think about defeating Vecna. He didn't realize how much you were willing to take care of him these weeks. All he knew was that he also had to take care of you. And this is why he became so angry when you left without him knowing.

Especially because if something did happen to you, he would feel the regret of being an asshole to you.

He rips a low whimper from you when he gently grasps your lower lip by his teeth as he heaves against your mouth. You're both too absorbed into your own feelings, leaving grunts and gripping each other everywhere.

His fingers were digging your skin every time you would kiss his jawline and he was growing eager. He didn't want to look like he was trying to take advantage of you, only noticing now how much you also wanted this.

He then roughly pulls your shirt off, watching as your chest is quickly rising and falling. And his eyes sparkled when he saw your cleavage for the first time like that. Your bra perfectly hugging your round big breasts.

Steve didn't wait any longer, holding your waist and pushing you back against your bed.

That night, he pounded on you just like you dreamed about. He slapped his hips against your ass just like you wished someone would one day. The air was filled with sounds and lust.

You didn't even notice when your friends arrived right after he had an orgasm. You didn't have time to get dressed, only getting caught when Robin opened the door to you both naked. He didn't have time to remove his condom. She saw you naked. And worse. She saw her best friend naked.

And you thought it was going to be awkward, until Eddie turned the awkwardness into "I knew these idiots would fuck".

The night was all about this. They decided to leave the Vecna subject for the next day.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You put Steve’s bag on the couch. It’s a backup he keeps in his trunk since he spilled coffee on himself during the merger meeting. It was your idea and you’re happy you suggested, though you never expected any of this.

Just like you didn’t expect him to ever see your apartment. Especially not today. You quickly swipe up the used mug from the table and take it into the kitchen. You call through the open doorway as you rinse it out.

“Make yourself at home, sir,” you set the cup on the counter and cut the flow of the tap. “I’ll find you a blanket and a pillow.” You dry your hands then flit back into the front room. “I’m sorry, I can only offer up the couch--”

He’s stood before the bookcase in the corner, squeezed into the narrow space. The couch is against one wall, opposite is a shorter shelf with the television and a few bunny figurines below. You’re overly conscious of the cutesy decor as he stands out of place among the pink checkered rug and fluff couch throws.

That reminds you.

On cue, Mitzy emerges, yowling for her evening meal. It’s not quite time yet but she’s an opportunist at heart. The tortoiseshell curls around your ankles and you bend to pick her up. She’s a comfort amid the intrusion of your space. You may have invited him here but it isn’t entirely by choice.

“Cozy,” remarks as he turns to you. “Oh, hi, kitty.”

He nears and Mitzy tries to crawl around your neck. She’s not a fan of strangers. You catch her before she can claw you too much and set her down. She scurries off.

“Oh, sorry,” he frowns.

“It’s not you. She’s fussy. She comes out for food and that’s about it.” You shrug.

“Ah, right,” he sniffs. “I like the bunnies.”

“Um, yeah, those... I just thought they’re cute,” you bounce nervously, “I’ll go get that blanket.”

“Sure,” he rubs his neck and look aways bashfully. “I’m sorry I’m falling apart like this, Rosie.”

“Mr. Rogers, it’s okay. We all have moments.” You assure him. If only he knew how many you had.

“You are so nice. Too nice,” he hangs his head and turns away. His shoulders slant as if he’s trying to make himself small. He’s too big for that.

You leave him and go down to find your single spare quilt and pillow. The blanket you made at a crafting class with Missie and the pillow, you think Dizzie left it here. You’re not entirely sure. 

Thinking of the girls, you wish you could ask them for a bit of advice right then. Elfie would know what to do. Billie would tell you to send your boss to a hotel, you know it. She’s probably right. Izzie would surely know what to do.

You come back as Steve stands by the window. The outline of his figure almost startles you. You’ve never had a man in your space. Not this one. You had one long-term relationship and when he decided he liked the girls on Instagram better, he booted you to the curb. Young and stupid. Still got a bit of both of those.

“Are you hungry?” You ask. “I could make some pasta or something.” You put the blanket and pillow on the couch. “Or, I could leave you alone.”

He’s quiet as he stares out at the brick wall across from your apartment. “I’m not very hungry, sweetheart.” He sniffs and reaches to wipe his face. “Do you mind if I shower?”

“Oh, sure, yeah, go ahead. I’ll get a towel.”

You grab a fresh towel and leave it in the bathroom. You busy yourself with dinner before Steve finally takes the invitation. You're a bit relieved to have a bit of time to yourself. You feel like you're still at work.

You're just about done the alfredo by the time he reappears. He's only in a pair of gym shorts, a bit bashful as he keeps the towel around his neck. You peek up and quickly go back to grating parmesan.

"Smells good. I feel fresher," he sighs.

"Mmhm," you squeak.

"Sorry, I only had gym shorts to sleep in. Gonna save the suit for tomorrow."

"That's fine. Did you want a plate?" You offer and turn away.

You never really thought about Steve like that. Never wondered about the man behind the title or the tie. He's just your boss. Still, the vision of his thickly muscled arms and stomach cloys in your head.

You plate him up linguine with sauce and sprinkle over the parmesan. It's a simple meal for a simple budget. He thanks you and sits at the small round table you don't often use without company.

Your phone vibes. You're thankful for the distraction. It's a meme in the group chat. You can't wait for the night out.

You sit with Steve to eat. You try not to look at him.

"So, who were you texting? Not to be nosy."

"Oh, it's... my friends. We're going out this week. Haven't seen them in a while."

"Sounds fun," he tries to smile. You feel bad for him.

"Maybe Bucky will be free," you suggest. "Probably a good time to catch up."

"Yeah, if he wasn't so busy at work. New partner, I guess. They don't get along."

"No? That's too bad. He always nice to me," you twirl the thick noodles around your fork.

"You like him?" Steve asks.

"Well, he's friendly. Can't say that about everyone."

"Right," he nods and takes a bite. He lowers his lashes and wiggles his nose.

"And he's your friend so... he must be as nice as you."

He swallows and looks at you with a sigh, "you're too good to me, Rosie. I'm such a mess and--" he pauses, "and you're a great cook. This is delicious."

"Oh thanks. It's pretty easy to make," you assure him.

"Yeah? Maybe you can show me. I'll have to learn since..." he leans forward suddenly and catches his head in his hands. He shoulders heave and he sobs. "I'm sorry, Rosie. I'm just going through it-- It keeps sneaking up on me."

Your heart wrenches. You feel so bad. You're not sure what to do but then you think of your friends. What would you do if they were heartbroken?

You stand and gently touch his shoulder, "it's gonna take some time."

He sniffles then suddenly, he opens his arms and snags you in and embrace. He buries his face in your stomach and weeps. You stand, frozen, and look down at his golden hair. You cautiously bring your hand up to caress his head.

"It's okay, sir, shhhh," you coax him gently. Maybe if he cries it out, he'll get some good sleep.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Changing Perspective (Part 6)

Previous | Masterpost

Damian came back from the shopping trip with tighter and more slick clothes then Danny in dark colours, which wasn’t really surprising and would help differentiate them more. He also came back with some books on animal biology, and a stuffed lion of his own, which Danny didn’t comment on lest Damian feel self conscious. He was glad Damian had been able to summon the courage to get a stuffed animal of his own, Danny knew he wanted one, no matter how much the sterner twin would deny it. They got home in time for dinner so Danny got to hear about their outing at the same time as the rest of the family. He was pretty sure he’d hear more about how it made Damian feel later when they were alone, but Danny was very glad it seemed to have gone well.

When dinner was over he followed Damian up to his room, ducking in behind him and closed the door behind them. He went and sat cross-legged on Damian’s bed while he started to unpack and put away his new things, setting up some of the decorations he got as well. Danny picked up the lion, running his fingers over its fur. It was softer then his alien but he liked his alien better anyway.

“So, how do you feel?” He asked, glancing up at his brother.

Damian sneered at the question but Danny didn’t back down, sitting in silence for a while, long enough that someone who didn’t know Damian might think he really wasn’t going to answer at all. Danny knew better, so he waited for his brother to organize his thoughts and gain the courage to actually speak openly about his emotions. “I enjoyed it, it was sort of overwhelming, but you warned me it would be. It was very nice going to the zoo, seeing all the animals. I made sure that it was a charity organization that treated the animals well before I let father take me,” He said thoughtfully, without looking up at Danny.

“Father told me that we might be able to get a pet here, there’s plenty of space after all. He was vague about a timeline but it didn’t seem like a lie. I asked what the point of all these ornaments was and he laughed at me and said ‘to bring you joy,’ which is… the oddest answer I could imagine. But these things, they do make me happy to look at,” He ran his fingers over a little figurine of a horse and it’s foal he’d put on his bedside table. “Having an animal of my own would make me happier still, but it scares me as well. Such a weakness, it could easily be used against us. Even a treasured possession is a weakness I should not want, and yet do.”

Danny hummed to show we has listening and rocked back and forth a bit as he thought about how to respond. “We’re not going to get a pet immediately, like you said he wasn’t firm about a time-frame. And it will be our time frame as well, we don’t have to agree to get a pet until we can trust it will be relatively safe. The manor is well guarded, and even though we don’t trust our adopted siblings, or fully father yet, we do know that they’re heroes don’t we? I don’t think there’s any way any of them would hurt an innocent animal to get back at us, no matter how much they hate us, and I don’t get the impression they hate us. Do you?”

“They could be hiding their intentions,” Damian shot back defensively.

“They could be,” Danny allowed inclining his head a little bit. “But they’d have to be very good at it wouldn’t they? We’ve both been taught to recognize body language, me even more so then you. If they could hide something from me they’d honestly be the first. I could pretty reliably even read grandfather by the age of eight,” Danny pointed out.

Damian hummed thoughtfully at that. “You still trust me don’t you?” Danyal asked tilting his head and looking at his brother with puppy-dog eyes. His brother looked back at him and sighed rather dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Of course I do,” He agreed grumpily.

“Good, then trust me that I have seen no signs of deceit. I spent more time with both Tim and Dick today and it seems to me that, while they’re wary of us because we’re new, they have honest intentions and don’t want to hurt us,” Danny reassured, setting the stuffed lion down on his bed. “I’ll leave you to unpack and think about that. If you need me, come in or knock on the wall and I’ll come to you,” he promised and got up, trotting out of the room and back to his own to relax and read.

The next morning Bruce called them back into his office so they could help write the press release about the twins. It was nice to have a say in how the media and public would first find out about them, Bruce choosing to share some personal details about them that would help humanize them, like their interest and how they’d lived with their mother and controlling grandfather previously. Danny would have added that Grandfather was abusive but Damian still bristled at the suggestion so controlling and sheltered was about the best they were going to get. Bruce booked the press conference for the next day once he had their approval and then left them to their own devices for the day, letting them explore and settle in.

That was how the next few months went really, they met Barbra, and Clark Kent, and a few more family friends. Slowly expanding the circle of people they knew, easing them in to socializing more. They sparred with whoever was present and wanted to each morning, most often Cass, but sometimes Tim, or even Bruce. Damian learned to respect that there were things they could learn from their adopted siblings, and stopped trying to assassinate the others when he realized he wasn’t going to get any support from Bruce or Danny. About the fifth time he was properly scolded and grounded by Bruce for attacking Tim it seemed Damian gave up, though Danny wouldn’t put it past him to try again once they all let their guard down.

Danny was enjoying himself, he didn’t care much for the library, at least not as much as Damian did, but there was a decent non-fiction section with some things that interested him. So they read a lot, he played games with Tim with Damian as an audience sometimes, and most nights they would watch a movie together. Whoever was around would join in as Damian and Danny were caught up on some of the media they had missed being raised in the compound.

They watched a lot of Disney movies, The Hunchback of Notre Dame was Danny’s favourite, the Lion King was Damian’s favourite. He had left the room for a bit after Mufasa’s death to ‘get some fresh air’, they all pretended not to notice he had cried. Danny found it almost funny that Damian would have never cried over a human’s death, but that movie got to him. For all Danny wasn’t glad to see his brother upset, he though it was good for Damian to feel the full range of human emotions.

Finally, one morning after three months at the manner Bruce put down the newspaper he was reading and looked over at the twins. Damian froze in the middle of sneakily slipping his sausage onto Danny’s plate so he wouldn’t have to eat it. Before he could back down Danny reached across and snatched it, casually putting it on his plate and acting like nothing had happened. Bruce frowned at them, glancing back and forth between the twins, at Danny’s blithe smile and Damian’s lack of objection or eye contact, and seemed to decide not to mention it.

“I have an interview scheduled for you two next week, just one for print, and maybe a couple of pictures. If that goes well I would like to bring you both on a talk show so people can actually see you. It won’t stop the paparazzi completely or anything but it would help quell some of the fascination with you two to have some answers.”

Danny glanced at Damian who nodded back at him before he looked at their father, nodding at him with a polite smile. “That should be fine, I can do most of the talking and we can tell them Damian is shy,” He joked, wincing a little when Damian kicked his ankle in retaliation. They would have to talk about it before the interview though. Danny was going to insist Damian let him do the talking, and not argue with him in front of the stranger, especially if they were asked about grandfather. “Who is the interview with?”

“The first one will be with Clark Kent and a Gotham reporter. Clark isn’t from Gotham but I know and trust him, and you’ve met him before so I think he’ll be a good buffer, and a sympathetic ear for your first interview.”

“As long as the people of Gotham won’t be too upset our first interview includes a reporter from Metropolis,” Danyal said with a little frown, Bruce would know better but Danny wasn’t sure.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s well known that Clark is a family friend so they’ll understand,” Bruce assured and Danny nodded, letting his shoulders relax. Bruce new the people of this city better then them after all.

“Alright, will we have access to the questions that they’re going to ask ahead of time?” Danyal asked, leaning forward against the table, having nearly forgotten his breakfast. Damian took the chance to transfer his second sausage to his brothers plate and steal some of his fruit in exchange. Reminded that the food was in front of him Danny stabbed the newly acquired sausage with his fork and took a bite.

“Most of them yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But keep in mind we don’t want the interview to seem too scripted. There will be a couple of questions that I’m allowing to be off the cuff, maybe to follow up on something else said in the interview.”

Danny nodded, that seemed like a good compromise. “That’s fine, but we should still talk generally about the questions we know when they’re submitted. Damian,” He said turning towards his brother. “I want you to let me answer the unscripted questions okay? I’ll tag you in if I need it but you know I’m better with people in situations like this.” Damian scowled but Danyal looked back, open and earnest and after a few moments of a one sided stare off where Damian glared and Danyal continued to blink normally Damian sighed and nodded. “Alright! I think this is going to be just fine.”

“Of course,” Bruce agreed with a reassuring smile, Cass gave them a reassuring smile as well, Tim didn’t seem like he was paying attention.

----------

(Interview with Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent and Gotham Gazette reporter Deb Donovan, written by Deb Donovan)

Bruce Wayne’s newest children, and first biological children Damian and Danyal Al Ghul-Wayne have been mysterious figures since they came to live with their father two months ago. Bruce has been very protective of his two youngest children, insisting that they remain out of the public eye as much as possible while they settled in. Now, with school coming up, Brucie has decided to allow two hand selected reporters to interview his youngest sons, with his supervision of course.

We were welcomed into the mansion, offered refreshments by the familiar figure of the Wayne family’s butler, and lead to a sitting room where Damian and Danyal were already settled. Bruce Wayne, ever the protective dad, hovers off to the side.

(since the twins have the same initials Danyal’s replies will be in italics)

DD: Good morning, Damian, Danyal.

Good morning. It’s nice to meet you miss Donovan, and to see you again Mr. Kent. Please call me Danny.

C: I told you Just Clark is fine Danny. How have you two been settling in with your father?

We’ve been settling in pretty well, though having other siblings has been an adjustment.

DD: Do you and your siblings get along?

They’re tolerable.

(Danny laughs at his brother’s response) An adjustment for sure! But Cass has been teaching us some dance, and Tim is showing us all the movies and game Mother and Grandfather would never let us watch so I’d say we get along just fine. There’ve been some misunderstandings, but given the way Dami and I were raised before coming here that was bound to happen.

C: How were you too raised before moving here?

Well I think the kindest way to describe Mother and Grandfather would be… very strict. They had very high expectations for Damian and I, our grandfather was obsessed with us being heirs to Father’s Legacy, (he makes sarcastic jazz hands). We are both technically geniuses but more then that, we both had to grow up before our time, no time could be ‘wasted’ on play or leisure, we never went to a traditional school because they would only have held us back. We were very isolated, and it wasn’t exactly fun.

DD: So your father really had no idea you two existed?

No, Grandfather and Mother were careful to keep our existence secret until they thought we were ready to take over as his heirs. Grandfather was obsessed with blood and wouldn’t believe Bruce would rather have his adopted children take over things. And can you believe they thought Damian and I were ready to take over?! We’re ten!

(Danny laughs again, Clark and I join in.)

C: To change to a lighter subject; are you two excited for school?

Excited and nervous! Again we’ve never been to a normal school, we haven’t spent, like, any time with people our own age. I’m hoping to make lots of friends.

I’m just worried we will not be academically challenged and they will not be willing to advance us further due to social concerns.

C: I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, I know Bruce has got you both in a gifted program. What do you think your favourite subjects will be?

I love science and engineering, especially the things that I can get hands on with. Chemistry is really fun, and I like taking things apart and tinkering. Astronomy and astrology are what I’m really passionate about but I don’t know if that’s something we’ll have classes on.

I am interested in literature and history. I doubt they’ll really be able to teach me anything new, but at the very least the library should have some books I haven’t read before.

DD: Well the mansion has it's own library doesn’t it? What’s it like having a rich father?

Well he’s the only father we’ve got so we don’t know any different! (Danny laughs) It’s been a bit weird honestly. First week we were here he rented out the entire planetarium for me, and the zoo for Damian. That was weird, but it was weirder still getting to go through the gift shop and just grab whatever we wanted! It was really exciting, but nerve wracking too, like I’d never even had one stuffed animal before! And you’re telling me I can get as many as I want? Let’s just start with one.

We do not intend to waste father’s money on frivolities.

C: What’s your favourite thing you’ve gotten so far?

Oh! Hands down the stuffed grey alien I got! I like the texture of the cloth, it’s really soft.

I like the suits father bought us, they’re very professional.

(Danny sticks his tongue out at his brother, Damian ignores it)

DD: It’s been wonderful to meet you both. I’m sure you’ll do well at school.

It’s been great to meet you too! Sorry Damian didn't say much, he’s shy.

C: That’s perfectly fine, I know there will be chances for other interviews. Maybe even live.

We’re looking forward to it!

-------

Deb and Clark took a few photos of the twins alone and with their father for their articles before they left. As she left the room, escorted out along with Clark, she couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine. She had held it together well during the interview but she couldn’t shake the odd feeling that she had just escaped something very dangerous. She was a reporter in Gotham, she was no stranger to danger, and she usually trusted her instincts but these were two children! Not even really pre-teens, so why was her hind-brain screaming PREDATOR!

Sure Damian was a little bit unsettling with the way he sat perfectly straight and glared, but it wasn’t Damian her instinct reacted most strongly to. Danny was sweet, with a bright smile and open posture, but there was still something off, and dangerous about him. In the way light reflected out of his eyes… She just needed to write up the interview, then she could go home and write this off as an odd bout of anxiety.

-------

Danyal finally let himself relax once the reporters were gone, next to him Damian’s shoulders noticeably dropped once they were alone with their father again. All was quiet for a moment Alfred walked in carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a plate with cookies, two for each of them by the looks of it. “I think you all deserve a reward for making it through your first interview. Come sit Master Bruce, I suspect that the interview was nearly as nerve-wracking for you as it was for the boys.”

Bruce chuckled and came to sit down as Danny dove forward to grab one of the cookies. Alfred tutted at Danny's impatience as he poured them each a cup of tea and passed them out.

“I still don’t like the things you said about Mother and Grandfather,” Damian sniffed as he took his own cookie with more dignity.

Danny’s mouth was already full of the buttery sweet treat so he just shrugged as he chewed, swallowing before he answered. “We agreed that it was for the best, this way we don’t have to exert too much energy pretending to be normal children.”

“You mean I won’t, you don’t have any trouble pretending to be ‘normal’,” Damian sneered. There was a long moment of tense silence as Danny refused to look at his brother.

It was rare that Danyal found himself completely at a loss for what to say, but he was now. He was struggling, he found it exhausting interacting with so many people, but he didn’t want to say as much. A part of him felt like Damian wasn’t trying hard enough and he’d be able to do it too if he cared, but Danny hadn’t been able to kill. How had they made him feel about his peaceful nature? He didn’t want to make Damian feel the same way now. The interview had been exhausting, he couldn’t fight with his brother now, even though he knew Damian was just trying to release the tension he too felt in the aftermath. Besides Damian needed to trust Danny's ability to navigate this situation, something that had already been shaken when Damian had realized Danny really wasn't planning on helping them replace their adopted siblings.

“You can have my second cookie Damian,” He sighed, putting down his half full cup of tea and got up. “I’m going to go back to my room.” Damian looked shocked and Bruce looked worried but no one stopped Danny as he left the sitting room. He headed towards his bedroom before changing his mind and heading to the library instead. He wouldn’t be found quite so quickly there and he needed a little time alone, and he didn’t doubt Bruce would try to come check on him.

He found a book and stole a cushion from one of the chairs so he could curl up in a sheltered corner, though he didn’t end up reading the book. He watched a patch of sun move across the floor with the slow passage of time, until he fell asleep curled up on the cushion. It was usually an effective way to avoid his feelings.

[ladelinee]

Authors note: I had so much fun writing this that I finished quickly. Maybe I will take longer with the next episode, as the next two weeks are very intense for me 🥲 Enjoy!!

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: angst, innocent, a bit aggresive E, fluff.

Dontcha’ think It’s time

Part 2 (Part 1 here)

Before you reached the stairs, you could listen already the clinking silverware, lively chatter, and Elvis’s booming laughter. The smell of bacon, toast, and coffee pulled you toward the dining room.

Inside, chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the Memphis Mafia crowded around the table, plates piled high.

At the center, little Lisa Marie sat in her high chair, happily making a mess spilling cereals.

Lisa spotted you right away. Her face lit up with a big, messy grin.

“You sittin’ by me?” she asked fascinated, her voice slightly muffled by the cereal in her mouth.

“Good morning, Yisa. Of course!” you replied with a warm smile while sliding into the seat next to her.

Lisa giggled, she was excited to enjoy breakfast with you.

Elvis, seated at the head of the table, glanced up. He noticed the interaction, the way Lisa beamed at you, and that put a smile on his face.

Leaning forward slightly, his eyes softened as he said “Mornin’, sugar” his voice smooth and welcoming. “How’d ya sleep?”

You looked over at him, your nerves easing at his kind tone. “Good, thanks. The bed is really comfortable.”

“Well, that’s good to hear” he replied, leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand. “Graceland ain’t that bad, is it?”

“No, it’s really nice” you answered honestly, feeling a bit more at ease.

Elvis nodded, pleased.

Across the table, Joe piped up, breaking the short moment of calm. “Hey, E, the tailor has been waiting for you to confirm a date. Them jumpsuits of yours are about ready to give up.”

“Yeah” Red added, cutting into his pancakes with a grin. “Keep movin’ like you do on stage, and those seams ain’t got a prayer.”

The table roared with laughter as Elvis rolled his eyes, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

“You boys got jokes this mornin’, huh?” he answered back between laughs. “Tell the tailor to come by tomorrow. And careful now, you’re talkin’ to the man who makes sure y’all get breakfast every day.”

Red grinned back. “That’s true, E. But maybe if you laid off the damn bacon those seams wouldn’t be screamin’ for help.”

Elvis shot him a mock glare as the room erupted in laughter again. But before he could retort, Lisa’s little voice piped up, clear as a bell.

“Damn bacon” she let out, nodding as if she agreed with Red.

Everyone laughed at the joke except Elvis, who sighed playfully. He wasn't impressed because Lisa was at that age of repeating everything.

Setting his coffee cup down slowly, Elvis licked his lips, stretched his arms, and cracked his neck like a man about to deliver the final blow. Then, with a smirk so lethal it could knock a man flat, he pointed his fork straight at Red.

“Listen here, I ain’t eatin’ all this bacon for me, man. I’m carb-loadin’ for later… gotta keep my energy up for your mama.”

The guys detonated.

Jerry fell against Charlie, grabbing his chest like he’d been shot. Charlie was howling, pounding the table so hard the syrup bottle tipped over.

Elvis took another bite of bacon, chewed slowly, and winked.

Red threw his hands up. “Man, what the hell, E?! I ain’t even say nothin’ that bad!”

Elvis just shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before talkin’ about me and my jumpsuits. ’Cause trust me, man, ain’t nothin’ burstin’ at the seams but your mama’s breathin’ when I walk through the door.”

“I’m done. I’m done.” Red slammed his napkin on the table.

Elvis grinned, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yeah, well… your mama ain’t.”

You sat calmly, hands resting on the table, taking it all in. You were watching and listening, completely absorbed. You didn’t understand every jab being thrown, but still. The way he shot back, so quick, so clever… it was something to admire. You fixed your eyes on him, wide with quiet awe, captivated by the effortless way he turned every joke in his favor.

You had no idea what was happening. But one thing was clear: Uncle Elvis was winning.

Elvis looked at you and instantly felt the weight of all his sins.

Red looked between you and Elvis and smirked. “Yeah, E… now you can’t say anything, huh?”

He shot Red a warning glare. “Oh, you dirty son of a…”

After few seconds Elvis swallowed real slow, suddenly feeling about ten degrees hotter. He glanced around: Charlie nudged Jerry. Jerry looked up, saw your sweet little face, and immediately covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter. Joe was staring directly at Elvis, mouthing, “Don’t. You. Do. It.”

Elvis cleared his throat, straightened his back, and gave you his most innocent, charming smile.

“Well now, sugar” he started smoothly, looking you dead in the eye. “Let’s just say… your ol’ Uncle does a lotta charity work”

The table lost it.

Joe was laughing quietly, struggling to catch his breath and kicking his legs. Jerry was nearly in tears. Red's face was all red, and he was mumbling something about how the Lord was testing him.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jerry added, “E, you’re going straight to hell, man.”

The playful teasing helped you unwind, and soon enough, you were laughing along with the jokes, a sense of belonging settling in.

Noticing you loosening up, Red smirked and leaned toward you. “See? Give it a year, and you’ll be just as wild as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but for now, take it easy, Red. She’s just a little girl.” Jerry swallowed a piece of toast, smirking.

Hearing Jerry’s words stirred something inside you. Since the atmosphere they created was making you feel comfortable, you decided to bring this up. Excitement began to shine in your eyes as you declared with a smile, “Well, not for long. Uncle Elvis is gonna make me a woman.”

The room fell into an instant, stunned silence. Forks hovered midair, coffee cups stopped halfway to lips, not a single breathing, and wide-eyed glances darted across the table.

Elvis paused mid-sip, his coffee cup still hovering close to his mouth. He froze, staring at the scene blankly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, the cup dangling from his fingers as he looked around to see how everyone was reacting.

Red made the mistake of looking at Elvis, saw the absolute panic on his face, and lost the battle. His chest jerked with a barely contained snort.

Charlie’s face turned toward the ceiling, eyes shut tight, fighting for composure, while Joe shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Elvis like he was waiting for him to say something.

But the real problem, the reason the laughter was strained, the reason no one could quite look Elvis in the eye, was that the idea wasn’t actually impossible.

By experience, they all knew better.

Before Elvis could even pronounce a word, you continued innocently, completely unaware of the tension. “He said he’d teach me about what men like and how to be more confident, so I figured…”

Lisa, completely oblivious, grinned up at you, swinging her legs.

“Darlin’, I told y-“

Elvis didn’t even get to finish before Jerry leaned in, his voice low but urgent. “You might wanna hit the brakes before this train goes completely off the rails.”

In return, Elvis shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that?”

Turning back to you, he forced a strained smile. “Now, sugar, what I meant was-“

“But you said-“

“I know what I said” Elvis cut in quickly, his voice tightening up with irritation.

Charlie decided to pour gasoline on the fire. “She’s got a point, E. You’re always braggin’ about how you know what women want.”

Elvis’s patience snapped. “Charlie, I swear to God…”

But you weren’t done. “And it makes sense, right? You said you know what men want, and if anyone can make me a woman, it’s you, Uncle Elvis!”

That was the final straw. The room went nuts, their laughter transforming into a strange mix of hiccuping, snorting, and wheezing. It sounded like a bunch of chickens getting spooked and a pack of turkeys doing their gobble thing, creating a total circus.

Elvis, however, didn’t find it funny.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he shouted. He slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump. His face was bright red, and his eyes blazed with frustration. Every time he tried to speak, someone cut him off. His patience was gone.

The room quieted suddenly, giggles dying out in an instant. Lisa's attention snapped to her father, her eyes wide and glued to his face.

You shrank in your seat, your face red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean anything bad” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Elvis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you didn’t, sugar” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “But you can’t…you just can’t say things like that. Not like that. Not here.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pushed your chair back. “I’m sorry” you said quickly, bolting from the room before anyone could stop you.

No one spoke. No one dared.

Elvis exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. The men exchanged uneasy glances until Jerry finally broke the silence. “Well…that went south fast.”

Elvis shot him a warning look but remained silent.

Red smirked softly “E, this is just a taste of what’s comin’. Wait till Lisa’s her age. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Elvis glanced at Lisa, who had returned to her cereal as if nothing had happened.

“Lisa” he said tiredly, “finish your breakfast. And behave when you get older, ya hear me?”

Lisa looked up at him, confused but obedient. “Okay, Daddy” she replied, taking another bite.

As soon as breakfast was over, Elvis let out a quiet curse before standing abruptly and leaving the table.

He made his way upstairs, pausing outside your door to knock softly.

“Darlin’? You in there?”

No response. He hesitated, then turned the doorknob.

The room was empty.

Elvis’s stomach sank as he scanned the hallway, his worry mounting.

“Jerry!” he called with sharp voice. “Get everyone. She’s gone.”

You ran down the driveway of Graceland, your feet pounding on the hot pavement. As you neared the end, the city of Memphis sprawled out before you, alive with activity, a sea of unknown but filled with the promise of answers.

You didn’t stop. Not when the air burned your lungs, not when the weight of this morning’s turmoil pressed against your chest. You weaved through pedestrians.

Finally, the library stood before you.

You pushed open the doors, stepping into the cool, hushed space. “If no one’s gonna help me” you muttered under your breath, determination settling in your bones. “I’ll find out myself.”

Some time later, Elvis was behind the wheel of his Cadillac, the engine roaring as it crawled down the streets of Memphis. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel. Jerry sat in the passenger seat, glancing anxiously between Elvis and the road ahead.

“E, you’ve been drivin’ in circles for an hour”

Elvis ignored him, his sharp blue eyes inspecting the sidewalks. “She couldn’t have gone far” he muttered.

Jerry sighed. “Look, maybe she just needed some air. She’s not gonna do anything crazy.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked when she left that table, Jerry. I snapped at her, and she ran off feelin’ like she’s got no one to talk to. Hell, I wouldn’t stick around after that, either.”

Jerry leaned back, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t know what she’s doin’. She just needs to cool off, and so do you.”

Elvis didn’t answer. He slowed the car as they passed the library, something catching his eye. He squinted at the front doors.

“There” he said suddenly, pulling over to the curb with a screech.

Jerry craned his neck. “You think she’s in there?”

Elvis didn’t reply. He threw the car into park, climbed out, and strode toward the library doors, his pace quick but steady. Jerry hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh, shoved his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the car, eyes fixed on the library doors.

You were still flipping through books, growing more and more stressed. Your fingers trembled as you picked up another, then another, the words on the pages blurring together in your frustration.

“What’s all this about?”

The deep, familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up to see Elvis standing at the end of the aisle, his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed on you.

You sighed, guilt and relief flooding your face.

Elvis walked closer, crouching down so he was eye level with you. His gaze softened when he saw the pile of books around you, and the frustration written all over your face. “What are you doin’ in here, honey? You had us all worried.”

You glanced down at the book in your hands, fidgeting with the corner of the page. “I just…I thought maybe the library would help. My parents always said books have the answers, but none of these books explain anything about…”

“About what?” Elvis asked gently, his tone calm and patient now.

You hesitated, then blurted out, “About how to be a woman. I thought if no one was gonna help me, I’d figure it out myself. But these books don’t make sense!”

He glanced at the titles around you, understanding dawning on his face. “Sugar,” he said softly, “you don’t need no books for that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. “Then how am I supposed to learn? I just…I want to understand what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be.”

Elvis let out a long breath, sitting down on the floor beside you, leaning his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the books scattered around you.

“Listen to me, darlin’” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “There ain’t no book out there that’s gonna tell you how to be a woman. That’s somethin’ you figure out on your own, little by little.”

“But I don’t even know where to start” you said, your voice small.

Elvis reached out, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you look at him. “I’ll help ya, honey, as best as I can. But don’t go running off thinking you’re on your own.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you sniffled, nodding. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I know you didn’t” he said, his voice soft. “And I didn’t mean to snap at you. That’s on me, sugar. M’sorry.”

You nodded again, the tension in your chest starting to ease. Elvis stood, brushing off his pants, and extended a hand to you.

“C’mon” he said with a small smile. “Let’s get you back home. You got the whole house worried about ya.”

The rest of the day, you felt a little more at ease.

For the first time in a long while, you felt supported. Like maybe… you weren’t so alone after all.

Even so, when night fell, sleep wouldn’t come.

You tossed and turned, kicking off the blanket, pulling it back on again, but nothing helped. Your mind wouldn’t settle.

Finally, with a sigh, you pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. You hesitated at the doorway.

You still felt a little uncomfortable moving around on your own in a house that wasn’t yours. Everything felt too big, too unfamiliar, too grand. But waking someone up? That felt even worse.

So, you forced yourself forward.

Graceland was different at night. The house was silent, dimly lit, wrapped in shadows. The soft white carpet felt cool under your bare feet.

When you reached the kitchen, you traced your fingers along the cabinets, finding the fridge by touch alone. The soft glow illuminated the space as you pulled it open.

Carefully, you poured the milk and warmed it up the way your mother used to.

The moment the warmth hit your fingertips, you sighed, finally feeling something familiar. Something that felt safe.

You were ready to take that first, much-needed sip, and then you realized you weren’t alone.

Leaning against the counter, watching you, stood Elvis. His robe was hanging loosely, and his hair was messy, making him look different.

Finally, he spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough from the lateness of the hour.

You shook your head, “You either?” still gripping your glass.

Elvis let out a quiet huff, lifting the drink in his hand slightly. “I don’t do much of that these days.”

You hesitated, shifting slightly before finally stepping toward the counter, perching on one of the stools. You suddenly felt small in the space, small in his presence.

Elvis’s gaze flickered over you, noticing something, thinking, but keeping it to himself. He took a slow sip of his drink before exhaling through his nose.

“I told you I’d teach you a few tips, and I meant that” he murmured, his voice steady. “But I think you already learned the first lesson on your own.”

You frowned slightly. “What lesson?”

Elvis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter.

“You had initiative to do what your heart wanted” he said. “You made a decision for yourself, without anyone tellin’ you what to do.” A small smirk touched his lips. “And… you’re willin’ to change. That’s admirable, sugar.”

A warm feeling curled in your chest.

Elvis wasn’t the kind of man who gave compliments easily, not the ones that mattered.

But just as the moment started to feel too heavy, too serious.

He suddenly leaned back, stretching slightly.

“Ah, and also” he added, pointing at you, “you’re grounded for escapin’.”

You nearly choked on your milk. “What?!”

Elvis smirked, taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. Sorry, young lady, but I gotta stick to it.”

“You don’t even ground people!”

“I do now” he said, chuckling. “First time for everything.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is so unfair.”

Elvis just shook his head, his laughter soft but real.

The moment softened, and for a second, it almost felt normal again.

Then, you studied him a little closer. His face wasn’t guarded like it usually was. He seemed… different.

“You look different at night,” you said out of nowhere, tilting your head.

Elvis raised a brow, smirking slightly. “That so?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your milk. “Yeah. You seem… I don’t know. Less like ‘Elvis Presley’ and more like… just you.”

Elvis exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Darlin’, I don’t even know what ‘just me’ is anymore.”

You frowned, watching him carefully. “Well… I think you’re the best person I know.”

That made him stop.

His fingers tensed subtly around his glass. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but then he hesitated. He had spent years battling to separate the man from the artist, struggling for people to see the difference between who he was and who they expected him to be. But you were too young to understand the weight of that fight, and he wasn’t about to launch into a speech. Instead, he swallowed the thought, keeping it to himself.

You didn’t know why, but you wanted him to believe you. So you continued.

“I…I think you’re kind, and funny, and you make everyone feel safe. And I don’t think people tell you that enough.”

Elvis stared at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

His blue eyes flickered in the dim light, studying your face. Then, before you could think, his hand lifted, fingers grazing along your cheek.

“Appreciate it, darlin’”he said, his smile warm and sincere.

The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a strange feeling through you.

It was warm. It was soft. It made something deep in your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t understand.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching slightly. He was so tall, and his hand seemed enormous compared to your face.

Elvis seemed to realize how you were reacting to what he had just done.

His hand lingered just a second too long, his thumb brushing the corner of your jaw, before he suddenly pulled away like if the surface was burning, clearing his throat.

Elvis shifted, suddenly looking tense, uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair, reaching for his drink like he needed something to do.

You swallowed, confused by the strange feeling left behind.

The athmosphere in the kitchen felt heavier now. Different.

Elvis downed the rest of his drink in one go and turned his back to you.

“Alright, honey” he said, voice tighter now, forced into something lighter. “Time for bed.”

You hesitated, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin.

But finally, you nodded.

“Okay.”

You slid off the stool, heading for the doorway.

Elvis didn’t turn around.

As you walked back to your room, you weren’t sure what had just happened.

You didn’t know why your heart was beating too fast.

You didn’t know why your skin still felt warm.

And you didn’t know why as soon as the door clicked shut behind you…

Elvis let out a long, sharp breath and muttered under his breath, “Shit.”

Tag: @iloveelvisss

[torturedtypewritersdept]

earning your stripes - part two

✯ pairing:

racer!rafe cameron x fem sports reporter!reader

✯ summary:

sports reporter, y/n edwards, has the opportunity of a lifetime - interviewing nascar driver, rafe cameron. But, it may be a little bit more than she bargained for.

✯ warnings:

rafe is a sexy cocky bitch, reader is a queen, sexual innuendos, eventual smut, mature themes, rafe low key is a bitch, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

You kept thinking about Rafe after your initial interaction, but you weren’t going to let him know that and you weren’t going to go running back to your bosses crying about a boy being mean to you and refusing to interview him. Racing was already a predominantly male driven sport and that didn’t leave a lot of room for you at the table, but you had worked hard and become someone that every household recognized, they called you one of Nascar's leading women now and you were damn proud of that. You weren’t going to let some meat head race car driver convince you that you weren’t something special, even if he was beautiful and chiseled in all the right places and a leader on the track. Nope. You couldn’t go there. As dreamy as he was, he had ruined any amount of respect you’d initially had for him, simply by opening his mouth. You were brought out of your thoughts as your phone chirped, Alex’s name littering across the screen. 

Green onion. Tonight 9pm. 

You giggled at the text, knowing that she wouldn’t take no for an answer before you sent your reply. 

Only if you wear something sexy ;)

Bitch, get real. 

Her reply came with a quickness, just as you had expected and you giggled, knowing that Alex was always wearing something sexy and always, always going to look good in a bar on a friday night. You wished you could be more confident and carefree like she was. 

- 

Nine o’clock came quickly. You had wasted most of the day going over the stats of every driver in preparation for tomorrow’s race. By your account, Rafe was set to win tomorrow and Topper would probably come second or third. You liked those odds. Though, deep down if Rafe wasn’t as good of a driver, you might find him less sexy, which would be a good thing. You got up from your desk at 8:45pm, living close to downtown had its perks and not having to leave early for things was one of them. You dressed quickly in a black lacy tank top and low-rise jeans, curling your hair and throwing on a little bit of makeup before grabbing your purse and keys and heading out the door. 

By the time you got to the bar, Alex was already about five drinks deep, as you’d expected. She always pre-gamed a little too hard, even when you were in college. You found her on top of a barstool drooling over a questionable looking man as he tucked her long black hair behind her ears. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

You asked and she leapt up, squealing and pulling you in for a hug. 

“It’s about time you got here, this guy is boring!” 

She exclaimed. 

“Alex, honey, be nice.” 

You chastised her, though doing so in her drunken state you knew was a waste of time. 

“Sorry.” 

You mouthed to him and he just smiled and walked away, leaving you to tend to her antics by yourself. 

“Wanna dance!” 

She exclaimed in your ear and you merely nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the dance floor. You danced for a brief moment, the dim light of the bar and the combination of the dj’s uplights created a feeling of ecstasy amidst the drinks that men in the bar kept supplying the two of you with. You continued to grind against Alex for about thirty minutes, the music bumping so violently that you could feel it under your feet. You walked out of the crowd and back to the bar for another drink when you ran into someone familiar. 

“Hey, y/n.” 

Topper said with a smile and you returned the gesture. 

“Hi, Top. Who’re your friends?” 

You questioned and he introduced them one by one. 

“Guys – this is Nascar's leading lady, y/n.” 

You blushed at Topper’s compliment. For a driver, he wasn’t half bad, he was even sweet to you most of the time. 

“Y/n – this is Kyle, Corbin, Zack, and Rafe.” 

You hadn’t even registered that the Rafe Topper was referring to was the same Rafe that you were trying so desperately to forget. Though, you probably should have; what kind of name is Rafe anyways? You remained polite as each boy said hello to you, returning the pleasantries and as your eyes met his, you swallowed thickly. He smiled that same shit eating grin and you pretended you didn’t know who he was. That’s what any self-respecting person would do in this situation, right? 

“Nice to meet you guys!” 

You exclaimed, tipping the drink in your hand and they returned the gesture, tipping their’s right back in your direction. 

“So, Nascar’s leading lady, huh? How’d you wind up, racing?” 

The one who’d introduced himself as Corbin asked and you giggled. 

“Oh, I’m not a driver! I enjoyed it a long time ago – my dad got me into it. But, I’m a sport’s reporter now, so I report on just about all of you.” 

At your revelation, Rafe almost spit out his drink, suddenly realizing who exactly you were and why you had probably made your way up to his garage the other night. Why had he made that stupid joke? 

“Anyways, Top, I’m here with Alex so I better get back to her. I’ll see you tomorrow though.” 

You said in a sweet sing-song voice before bringing him in for a hug. 

“Alright, call me if you need anything.” 

He said, rubbing the back of your hair. You nodded in response before pulling away and heading back to the dance floor where ALex was grinding on the man she had earlier been flirting with. Topper’s eyes lingered on your figure, making sure you got from point A to point B before tearing his eyes away. 

“Topper, please tell me that’s not who I think it is.” 

Rafe asked with bewildered eyes. 

“Well, who do you think it is?” 

Topper questioned. 

“She’s the hot broadcaster, isn’t she? The one all the guys like?” 

Rafe asked, fear lacing his normally overzealous and cocky tone. 

“She’s more than that, but yeah, that’s the same girl. Why?” 

Topper quickly responded. 

“I. fucked. up. – Top.” 

He muttered in a voice so low and choppy, enunciating the words in a tone so serious yet quiet that Topper almost didn’t catch what he said under the pressure of the music against his ears. 

“What did you do this time?” 

He questioned, annoyance lacing his tone. 

“I may or may not have made a joke at her expense when she came to interview me the other day.” 

Topper rolled his eyes in response.

“Rafe, what did you say to her?” 

He growled, grinding his molars against each other.

“I may or may not have asked her if she was an escort?” 

He replied sheepishly. 

“God! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

Topper was yelling at this point, so unabashedly ashamed of Rafe’s behavior and his incessant need to ruin everything. He found it comical really, the way Rafe had the ability to put his foot in his mouth within moments of meeting women; his douchebaggery could . Though, this time, it was at the expense of you – someone topper cared for deeply, and you – you weren’t just some girl in a bar. 

“I was trying to be funny and she looked so sad, Topper.” 

He replied, seemingly remorseful. 

“Of course she did, you idiot! What? You thought she was going to be happy about that?” 

He asked in an accusatory tone and Rafe could only glance between you and back to Topper, like a chastised dog. 

“Rafe, you need to find a way to make it right. She’s sweet. Joke or not – she didn’t deserve to be made to feel like that.” 

Topper growled.

“I promise, I will.” 

Rafe muttered in response, tipping back the neck of the beer bottle as it met his lips. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog @urdreamgirl12 @hockeybabe87 @sereneera @annaconscience @pogueprincesa @bibissparkles @obxbigsis @jjmaybankmylovee @kulekehe

[frankys-wife]

THANK YOU KRUEGER FOR TAGGING ME <3

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

He'd canonically be a rhinoceros if he was an animal, but my horse hyperfixation brain says he reminds me of a male unicorn! I justify it like this:

Factually, horses and rhinoceros are distantly related because they're from the same group, Perissodactyls. They share a common ancestor millions of years ago, called the Cambaytherium. Basically, this means that Rhinos are horses with horns. And what is a horned horse? A unicorn. Also factually speaking, the horn on a unicorn's head used to be a metaphor for masculinity in medieval times, often because unicorns were depicted fighting and killing lions. It's why some national Coat of Arms symbols have the Lions and Unicorns on them. (Also because the horn on a Unicorn's head used to me a metaphor for a certain body part...) Another reason for this is because unicorns are rare. Franky is one-of-a-kind, both in his canon and our reality. There's no person or character comparable (in my opinion) to him or his abilities. He likes to stick out in a crowd and takes pride in being unique!

So I can happily say I think Franky is a very strong unicorn hehe <3

2. If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them?

I would try to pick him up any kind of work materials he needs. I'd also make him all kinds of shirts: fun patterns, stupid slogans to make him laugh, anything that suits him! And, of course, his favourite cola!

3. What is your favourite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

Anytime I get a random spurt of energy and put on some music, I think dancing with him would be the most fun thing ever! I also think he'd be chill with me putting on a fun action movie or playing some cards.

Also the occasional Mario Kart or Just Dance challenge. Franky would be so down to challenge me to Just Dance, we could do all of the cheesy couple's songs. I can see him getting frustrated when the Wii remote doesn't register his move XD

4. What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

He's chill with any kind of yard work, which isn't my thing. He doesn't mind vacuuming either, since the vacuum acting up would mean he gets to work on it a little. The nice thing about being married to an engineer/carpenter is that I've got an on-site handyman :) <3

He hates cleaning the bathrooms (honestly, who doesn't). I don't mind it as much as he does, so I usually take care of it. If things get clogged, though, it's a Franky job. He also doesn't care too much for laundry but is particular about how his speedos get washed so I take care of that without any issues.

5. Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

Honestly, yeah. He's pretty calm and level-headed when driving for the most part. He steers the Thousand Sunny with no problems, so a car isn't that much different (though, he does tend to be a bit of a speed devil sometimes...). He might make impulsive decisions but he has the best intentions.

6. What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Probably one of his favourite songs! Or I'll record him saying something silly I think hehe

7. Would your f/o fight someone online?

He might for a bit but then he might just hit them with the "L opinion + Ratio". He likes to fight in person anyways.

8. Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

He's not really a spiritual person per se- he believes what he sees and experiences, things he can justify. But he does think we're so natural together that, in his own words, it was meant to be if that makes sense!

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

[venturelovebot]

Fluffy February Day One: At First Sight

A/N: It's February! I hope you're all ready for a whole new month full of fluffy prompts, especially because Valentine's Day is only two weeks away! We got a lot in store for this month, so let's get started! Prompts by @fluffyfebruary, written in headcanon format. Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated but not necessary!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff!

🩷 If you asked Sloan Cameron if love at first sight existed, they would easily tell you yes.

❤️ Not in terms of human beings, however.

💄 They couldn't count how many times an artifact had graced their sights, only to make their heart aflutter just thinking about its history and possible cultural significance.

💋 In terms of people? It's a much different story.

🪽 They honestly never thought about relationships that much. Nor settling down, starting a family or even going on a date for that matter.

🌹 A lot of things can change once you meet certain people, though.

🍫 The first ever conversation they had with you left them humming for the rest of the day.

💒 The softest pink blush painted their adorable face just thinking about talking to you again.

🧸 They did not consider it a crush. Weren't they a little too old for that sort of thing?

🩷 As it turns out, certainly not.

❤️ It wasn't until the second conversation rolled around that they realized how actually enamored they were with you.

💄 I'm sure you're surprised. Rest assured, so were they.

💋 When they really thought about it, though... maybe love at first sight was a thing after all.

🪽 Before your shared hours-long yap sessions, they remember how much you stood out amongst the crowd you were in.

🌹 Something about you was soft. Ethereal, angelic– maybe it was your well done hair, perhaps it was the fragrance that you wore. Your outfit was also incredibly eye catching as well.

🍫 "I'm sick and tired of their unending conversations with themself." Cupid Hanzo huffs. "If I can set them up, surely I can pull anything off!"

💒 It felt like a tiny thump inside their chest. Suddenly, they were floating.

🧸 When you turned to see who it was requiring your attention, hearts formed inside their citrine colored eyes.

🩷 "Can I help you?" You ask them with a smile.

❤️ "Oh! I– I was just– I wanted to– uh," All their words escaped them in that moment.

💄 You were working part time at the library in Toronto. They remember it all like it was yesterday.

💋 You were so patient and understanding. It was a particularly slow hour during the day, so it's not as if they were taking up any of your time.

🪽 "I wanted to–" They took a deep breath in. "Check these out?"

🌹 They placed several heavy, dusty books on the table from the archeological section of the library.

🍫 "Sure! Can I see your library card?" You inquired.

💒 They spent the next five minutes fumbling through their wallet like a dummy trying to find it.

🧸 Meanwhile, they talked your ear off about their latest project they were working on at the time.

🩷 You were anything but annoyed, though.

❤️ Everything they talked about was absolutely fascinating. Not only that, but their dynamic story telling had you deeply enthralled in all of their tales.

💄 "So, that's how I got assigned to the Anubis AI!" They grinned. "Pretty neat, huh?"

💋 "Mhm." You agreed, hand balancing your head underneath your chin.

🪽 "Well– umm– it was nice to meet you, [Y/N]!" Their body shook with nervousness. "I'll see you around sometime?"

🌹 "Maybe!" You hoped. "Take care!"

🍫 When they got back into their car to drive back home, they noticed a little piece of paper fall out onto the carpet below.

💒 'XXX-XXX-XXXX.'

🧸 Your number.

🩷 You stir softly in your sleep and it pulls them from their reminiscing.

❤️ "Mmh– awake? Still?" Sleep taints your voice.

💄 You drowsily reach out and tuck a sienna colored curl behind their ear.

💋 They lean in to place a kiss to your lips.

🪽 "Just remembering how we first met, that's all." They explain.

🌹 You smile at them with genuine happiness.

🍫 "Go to sleep. You need it." You lightly chide them.

💒 You close your eyes again and fall deeply into the recesses of your dreams.

🧸 Love at first sight. Love at every sight. Love they hold onto just for you.

🩷 "Hah! I told you so." Cupid Hanzo smirks from afar.

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Hedgehog, porcupine, it's the same thing (pt.5)"

or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt.5"

Shadow the Hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I finally have connection again!!! This part feels a little of to me but anyway, leave a comment if you want to be in the taglist or leave a comment if you liked it! ENJOY!

Part 4.

It happened so fast that you could barely process it, the creature looked at the room, then at you, then at the window and in a red flash it disappeared.

For only a fraction of a second, because as soon as it disappeared it appeared right back, but now besides your bedroom's window.

It fell to the floor with a thud and you swore you heard it say something.

But that would be ridiculous, animals don't talk.

"What the fu-?" You didn't even finished your question when the thing turned around to look at you.

The room was silent. Everything felt like it was made of very thin glass, and any sudden move coul shatter it all.

You crouched.

You didn´t know if you wanted to make yourself less intimidating or if you just wanted to be able to protect your hole body in case it tried to move again.

And so, you both just looked at each other. It was really the first time you had stopped to look at the creature so closely.

It´s eyes were red, but not just any red, they were crimson like blood on the outer part of the iris with a warmer fire-like red on the center. It had fur which looked super soft covering all of it´s body, but there was something like spikes coming out of it´s head.

Yeahhh, you knew what animal it reminded you of...

"Hey there" you said softly as not to scare it.

"Who are you and where am I?" the creature demanded more than asked.

"Holy shit, you can TALK!!??"

"Where am I? Did G.U.N sent you?" It had now started to get on it´s feet and speak louder, though it still seemed as in pain.

Everything about what was happening felt kind of surreal to you, one thing a little more than anything else.

"Why do you sound like Keanu Reeves?"

"Is that another agent? I will kill you in seconds if you don´t answer my questions" It furrowed something that you assumed were his eyebrows.

But between everything that was happening you suddenly lost balance in your crouching position, and fell on your back. When you managed to sit on the floor you found yourself with the sight of the alienish creature which had also fallen flat on it´s bottom, presumably trying to protect itself from you.

So then you were both sitting in the ground.

"I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot" you started to say, as calmly as you could. "I´m not here to hurt you, you were the one who crashed on my backyard".

It kept on looking at you as if you were going to attack it at any moment, so you decided to give him something more, you told him your name.

"Shadow" It... He answered back, though it felt more as an attempt to get you to shut up than anything. More time passed in silence.

And so you got up, and left.

Shadow just sat there, slightly confused, but soon enough he weakly got on his feet and turned towards the window. He tried to give a step, but all of his muscles ached at it. He felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless, it reminded him of the cryo tube he was kept in for fifty years.

His efforts did not last too long either, as he felt two warm hands pick him up from under his armpits and sit him back down on the bed. Even though he slightly hissed at the pain and tried to fight back his efforts were usless and he found himself comfortably sat against the cushions.

You smiled at him and apologized for any discomfort that you may had caused, then you offered him a pastry (your aunt Maddie had brought them for tea).

He picked one up, and after a troughout examination, which to you kind of looked as a cat smelling something to see if it was food or not, he actually took a bite.

It was actually nice, and it had a slight bitter taste to it.

"So... are you some kind of porcupine?"

"I´m a hedghog and the ultimate life form" He answered back with still looking angry, but his voice had slightly less bite to it. You smiled kindly back as you held back a laugh.

"Hedghog, porcupine, it´s the same thing."

Taglist:@boogiemansbitch@vxllys@whoisgami@baby-bloos@sapphireravensworld@mothmanperson@4rm-the-mf-concrete@eliknowsnothing

[dragqueenstarscream]

I have a fic request: Optimus helping Starscream with his polishing.

good as new

tfone starscream x optimus prime

contains: developing relationship, secret relationship, polishing, wing kink, allusions to interface

"i like what you've done with the place."

optimus merely hummed in reply as he examined the bottles of polish sitting on the shelves in the private washrack. it seemed that sentinel prime's reputation for excess extended to his personal life as well. optimus couldn't even begin to imagine caring for his finish with cheaper polish when he was still cogless. that luxury simply didn't exist to him.

truth be told, optimus didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. this had all started when starscream somehow managed to break into iacon tower with information about an attack megatron had planned. why starscream would want to betray megatron was beyond optimus, but regardless, the two had continued to meet in secret, with starscream always providing optimus with some crucial information. eventually, the two had formed something of a relationship, though whether that was platonic, romantic, or something else entirely was unclear to optimus as of now.

tonight wasn't a night to discuss megatron's next move or where the quintessons might be heading. optimus had invited starscream to iacon tower - under the cover of night, of course, as tongues would wag if it got out that optimus was bringing a decepticon into his own home - simply to be with him. he'd thrown out the idea of offering to polish starscream, knowing that the seeker valued his appearance. starscream had latched onto the idea instantly, which led to where they were now, in the primes' private washrack. optimus told himself that this was just him trying to extend a peace offering to megatron's second in command in exchange for more information, but he knew in his spark that it wasn't the case.

"getting rid of those obnoxious statues was a nice touch," starscream said, bringing optimus back to the present. "how long did it take you to melt those down to scrap?"

"most of them were destroyed when we fought to free you guys," optimus said. "taking the rest down was just part of the renovation."

he finally settled on a bottle of polish and made his way over to the bench where starscream sat. the former high guard bot raised an eyebrow, then relaxed when he saw the polish optimus had chosen.

"good choice," he said as optimus sat behind him. "you know how to use that stuff?"

"i think so," optimus said. "i haven't done this before, but it can't be too hard."

"what do you mean, you..." starscream's voice trailed off as the realization struck him. "primus, what did sentinel do to you bots?"

starscream stood up from the bench and started to search around the washrack. "come on," he muttered, "where did that pompous aft keep his... gotcha!"

he returned to the bench with a tool in his servo. optimus felt embarrassed that he didn't know what it was at first.

"know how to use this?" starscream asked. optimus shook his head, and starscream scoffed in disbelief.

"we didn't get much time to ourselves in the mines," optimus admitted. "the most cleaning we got was a trip to the washracks."

"unbelievable," starscream grumbled, rolling his eyes. "here, gimme that."

optimus handed the bottle of polish over to starscream, who opened it up and poured some drops on what looked like a circular pad.

"here, you pour some polish on right here, then you turn it on and work it into my plating," starscream said. "just take your time with it, and don't press too hard."

optimus felt unsure of himself as starscream handed him the polish and the tool. still, he knew that he had to get this right. he wanted to prove to starscream that he could be a kinder bot than the false prime before him. this peace offering would be a good start.

and maybe starscream would actually trust him with more than just information, but optimus didn't want to think about that now.

"this won't be too loud, will it?" optimus asked. "we can't have anyone hearing what's going on and getting too curious.

"that thing?" starscream snorted. "if that's as pricey as i think it is, you won't have to worry about noise. now, quit worrying and get to work."

"if you're sure," optimus sighed as he got himself seated. turning the polisher on, he felt relieved as it only made a low hum, not enough to grab the attention of anyone walking by.

now that he thought about it, he didn't know where to start. he didn't want to start polishing in an awkward spot and hurt starscream by accident. after a moment's thought, he settled on starscream's wings. they were broad, flat, and made a good surface to test the polisher on. taking a deep invent, optimus leaned forward and began to polish starscream's left wing.

the reaction he got wasn't what he expected at all. starscream's whole body shuddered, and he let out a long, shameless moan that had optimus blushing. he quickly pulled the polisher back, afraid that he'd accidentally violated a major boundary.

"hey, what the-?!" starscream sputtered and turned to face optimus.

"sorry," optimus said rather quickly. "i just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

"hey, no no no!" starscream scolded him. "i'll tell you if you're crossing a line, prime, but that felt good. go back to doing that!"

"alright, if you're sure," optimus said. starscream huffed and turned back around. optimus took that as his cue and returned to polishing starscream's left wing.

the smaller bot relaxed completely under optimus' touch. he leaned back towards optimus, engine purring. occasionally, he would tell optimus to lighten up on the pressure, but for the most part, he had no complaints. optimus knew by now that that was as close to a thank you as he would get out of starscream.

as optimus moved from the tip of starscream's wing inward, he noticed a shift in starscream's behavior. the closer he got to starscream's wing hinge, the louder starscream's engine revved. when optimus polished the base of starscream's wing, the smaller bot flexed his digits, clenching and unclenching his fist, and he let out an unusually soft sigh. it sounded bizarre coming out of someone with such a normally abrasive voice, but optimus found, to his embarrassment, that he wanted to hear it again.

"you know," starscream said, speaking up for the first time in a while, "it's a shame you were a miner before you became a prime. you would've made a killing doing this."

"i'll take that as a compliment," optimus said with an awkward smile.

once optimus was certain that he'd polished starscream's left wing until it sparkled, he moved to starscream's right wing, a bit more confident this time. starscream kept purring as optimus polished him, his optics closed, intake hanging open. optimus would've been lying to himself if he said that he didn't find starscream attractive like this, not angry and barking orders, but rather relaxed and at ease.

"i'll have to keep coming back to you for this," starscream said. optimus felt a flicker of hope in his spark. he quite enjoyed the prospect of seeing starscream more often.

again, optimus moved the polisher closer and closer to the base of starscream's wing. once he reached the hinge, starscream let his head roll back, eyes half lidded, looking almost delirious.

"better be careful with that, prime," he smirked. "don't go leading a mech on."

"what do you mean?" optimus asked, despite having a guess what starscream was talking about.

"you keep touching my wings like that," starscream purred, "and i might think you're coming onto me."

optimus didn't believe that he had the gumption to say what was on his mind, but he kept a straight face and simply said, "maybe i am."

this only made starscream's smirk grow into a dangerous grin. despite having never seen it before, optimus knew what that look meant.

once optimus had finished the right wing, he turned the polisher off and asked, "how do you feel?"

starscream flexed his wings, a self satisfied smile on his face. "not bad, prime," he said. "for your first time, not bad."

optimus tried to sound more sure of himself than he felt. "glad to hear it. now, where else do-"

"optimus," starscream said.

uh oh, optimus thought. full name.

"yes?" he asked. to his surprise, starscream reached one arm back, grabbed the back of optimus' helm, and pulled him in for a kiss. it was awkward at first, as optimus nearly knocked his forehelm into starscream's chin, but once he let himself lean into it, he realized just what was happening.

starscream was actually kissing him.

and optimus enjoyed it.

it only lasted for a few moments before starscream let go, but optimus wished that it had lasted longer.

"keep that up," starscream grinned, "and you might get a little more than that."

"just a little?" optimus said jokingly.

"i'm willing to negotiate," starscream chuckled as he turned around on the bench, now straddling it and facing optimus.

"now," the seeker purred, fluttering his wings enticingly. "other side."

optimus knew where the night was going, and for once, he was willing to let starscream take full control.

turning on the polisher once more, optimus leaned in and began working on starscream's left wing.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Lost In The Woods (And Feelings) - William Eklund

Summary: Y/n and her best friend, hockey player William, go on a week-long camping trip despite having zero experience. As the days go by, Y/n realizes she’s in love with William but believes nothing can happen between.

Words: 849

Y/n had no idea what made her to agree to this.

Camping. A full week of camping.

She and William had been best friends for years, ever since they met back in Sweden. And even after he moved to San Jose for his hockey career, they had managed to keep their friendship intact. FaceTiming at odd hours, sending each other stupid reels, meeting during any kinds of holidays. All that became a new part of their daily routine. And somehow, in between their late-night calls and playful teasing, they convinced themselves that going on a camping trip together was a brilliant idea.

It was not.

“Are you sure you know how to set up a tent?” Y/n asked, arms crossed as she watched William struggle.

“Of course,” he said confidently, before glancing at the tent bag. “I mean… how hard can it be?”

It turned out to be very hard.

“William, that’s not where the pole goes.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Are you a camping expert all of a sudden or what?”

“I don’t have to be an expert to know that the tent is not supposed to be collapsing,” Y/n protested, stepping back just in time to avoid being caught under the falling mess.

William groaned, rubbing a hand down his face before turning to her with his best innocent smile. “Okay, well, time for a different plan.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “You’re cute,” she muttered under her breath, not realizing she had said it out loud until William shot her a smirk.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, turning away to hide the blushing.

After what felt like hours and with the help of YouTube tutorials, they got the tent set up. It still leaned to one side more than the other, which made Y/n secretly question its stability.

That night, they sat by the fire, eating burnt marshmallows because neither of them had the patience to cook them properly. The air was cool, stars lit up the sky above them, and for a moment, Y/n let herself pretend that this was just their life.

Just the two of them, away from everything, no worries about distance or careers or the inevitable goodbye waiting for them at the end of this trip.

“This is nice,” William said, stretching his legs out and tilting his head back to look at the stars.

Y/n hummed in agreement. “Even though we are world’s worst campers in history?”

“Especially because of that.”

She smiled, leaning her head against her knees. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time.”

William turned his head to look at her, his expression softer than usual. “Me neither.”

The way he was looking at her made Y/n’s stomach flip, but she forced herself to push the feeling away.

As the days went by, Y/n found herself slipping into a dangerous kind of comfort.

They got lost on a hike. Twice.

"Are you sure we’re going the right way?" she asked.

"Of course I am," William said, though his eyes were filled with uncertainty.

"That’s what you said twenty minutes ago, and we ended up in the same place," Y/n pointed out.

"Fine. I’ll check the GPS - oh."

"What?"

"There’s no service."

Y/n groaned. "Great. We’re going to die out here. With no water and food."

"Relax," William said, placing his arm around her shoulder. "Worst case scenario, we have to eat berries and live in the woods forever."

"Oh, fantastic. That was totally my life plan."

He grinned. "Could be worse. At least you’re stuck with me."

And that was the problem.

The more time they spent together, the more Y/n realized she didn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.

But she also knew nothing could ever happen between them. He lived in San Jose. His life was there, his career, his future. She was in Sweden, and as much as she wanted to believe in something more, reality was much different.

On their last night, as they sat by the fire, Y/n found herself staring at the flames, lost in thoughts.

William nudged her gently. “You okay?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

She hesitated before answering. “How things are going to go back to normal after this. You’ll go back to San Jose, I’ll stay in Sweden…”

William was quiet for a moment. Then, he shifted slightly, turning to face her fully.

“Would you ever move?”

Y/n was taken aback. She turned her head to look at him, trying to read his expression. “Move where?”

He shrugged, but there was something careful about the way he asked. “Anywhere.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart pounding. “I don’t know. Maybe. If the reason was good enough.”

William held her gaze for a second longer before he let out a small, almost nervous chuckle. “Good to know.”

Y/n wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but as he reached over and squeezed her hand lightly, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in her feelings as she thought.

[86espresso]

CONGRATULATIONS! Could I please have:

crashing their date with another person purposely

^ and it all was definitely out of spite. not because they were jealous. never. totally not.

with Quinn Hughes please!

thank you so much!! and ty for requesting <3

There is not one person on god’s green earth who makes your eye twitch more than Quinn Hughes.

The only tie you have to him is being his coach’s daughter, which means you’re not supposed to see each other a lot, but you have to because you live in the same building.

On the same floor. Across from each other.

It’s been snarky remarks and banging on each other’s doors with noise complaints ever since.

You would think he’d respect you because of who your father was to him, but no. He just couldn’t stand you the same way you couldn’t stand him.

Your day was going smoothly; you got off work, came home and took a nice bath, and got ready for your date. He seemed like a lovely guy and things were going well.

You checked the time to see that you were late and hurriedly shoved your necessities in your purse and speed walked out of your apartment, quickly stopping in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You fumbled with the keys while locking your door, breathing out in relief when you heard the lock click.

The elevator doors opened up to reveal Quinn. His hair was damp and falling onto his forehead, his black shirt stuck to him in the right places, and his gym shorts were short. As fuck.

He gave you a sideways once-over, taking in your appearance without shame as he walked out of the elevator. “Nice kicks.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking down at your stilettos. “Thanks?”

He laughs as he walks away and the doors close, and it should feel ridiculing, but a weird part of you was convinced that he tried to give you a compliment.

Key word: tried.

[•••]

The date was going fine. It wasn’t great, since he was a little cold with you because you were five minutes late, but it got better as he had a few glasses of wine.

“What a coincidence.” Your eyes bulged out of your head when you heard Quinn’s all-too-cheery tone. Both yours and your date’s eyes traveled to Quinn, who materialized in del t of your booth.

“Quinn, what the actual fuck are you—”

“I was hoping to catch you somewhere around here, you left too early y’know.” He fakes a pout.

“What is he talking about?” Your date directs the question at you.

“Yes, Quinn, enlighten us, please.” You glared daggers into his unfazed eyes.

“Nah, that’s not important. What is, though,” he pauses to pull something out of his pocket, “is this.”

Your jaw drops as he pulls out one of your rings from his pocket. You must’ve dropped it during your rush to leave.

And just when you thought it wouldn’t get worse, “you left it at my apartment, thought you’d want it back.” He laid it in front of you as your date’s face slowly contorted to anger and he slammed his napkin down on his plate.

“Listen—” you start. Your date holds his hand up.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Quinn watches triumphantly as he stomps out of the restaurant like a child. You put your head in your hands. “It gets to a point, Quinn.”

He shrugs and flops down to where your date just sat, picks up a breadstick and takes a bite. “Damn, these are good,” he swallows, “and I saved you by the way. He had bad juju or negative aura or whatever the kids say these days.” Another bite. You feel it. The undeniable twitch of your eye.

You see his point, though. The man made you feel lesser than for being a few minutes late and was quick to storm out without giving you the chance to explain yourself.

“That still doesn’t mean you can just crash my date, Quinn— how did you even find me?”

“I followed you after I found your ring.”

“You’re so—” you sigh, unable to find the words.

There’s a beat of silence.

You grain loudly, all of a sudden, startling Quinn and making him pause mid dip. “What?”

“I’ll have to lay for all of this.” You gesture at the food in front of you.

Quinn waves his hand once. “Nah. I got it.” You’re confused for the second time that night, your mouth open but no words coming out. “What kind of guy takes someone to Olive Garden for a date, anyway?”

“The kind that’s classy enough to not compliment me with ‘nice kicks’.” You smirk, leaning back and crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes. “Be grateful, being nice to you for free is painful.”

You laugh for the first time that night, slipping your ring on your finger.

“You do look pretty nice, though.”

[nikoniclove]

do you think you could make a story where ace and one or both of the others get trapped in an elevator and ace panics cause she doesn’t like how small the space is?

i’d like to see more of how one or both of emily and jj calms her down, probably sent further into their relationship when they’re an established trio

you’re writing is awesome by the way please never stop

Elevator

You don’t like small dark spaces. That’s pretty common knowledge amongst the team thanks to a kidnapping over a year ago. Normally, your brain doesn’t equate elevators with that concept because they’re a regular part of your daily life getting up to the bullpen or your therapist’s office or any other number of things. Normally is the key adverb there.

The elevator jerks to an awkward stop, and the four of you grab the railing to steady yourselves. “Oh, that’s not good,” Emily comments, nerves tinting her tone.

“What? You’re scared of a little elevator issue,” Morgan teases, shifting his weight in a pretend jump.

“Don’t do that,” Emily snips at him, as the elevator drops another few inches. “See! Push the alarm button!”

Your fingers are clenched around the railing. JJ is close, somehow staying reasonably calm, even as Emily lists off statistics about elevator-related injuries and deaths. “I am pushing the button! Push! Pull! Push Pull!” The elevator lurches again. You’re not fond of the current situation, but you’re not sinking into a panic attack either. Yes, it’s a small space, but you’re not alone, and you’re not in the dark. That last part is always the kicker for your PTSD.

Morgan is on a very glitchy call with Garcia to get help when the lights go out. JJ grabs for your hand, just as your chest starts to tighten. You sink to the floor, curling your knees up defensively. The elevator is pitch black, and it’s so easy for your brain to conflate where you are with where you’ve been. JJ’s arm wraps around your shoulders, tucking you against her side. “Breathe,” she whispers, her words warm against your temple. “You’re okay.” Emily trips over your feet in the dark, hastily apologizing. She turns on her phone’s flashlight and presses it into your hands like a lifeline. She sits on your other side, her palm rubbing gently up and down your thigh. “It’s okay, baby. There’s some light, and we’re right here with you.”

It helps fractionally, though your brain thrums with overwhelming static, and your chest feels compressed in the worst way. Your breathing becomes more and more shallow. Emily corrals your phone and JJ’s, turning on those flashlights too. She wants to save Morgan’s battery since he has at least a few bars of service. Then Emily moves your body, shifting you until you’re facing her, kneeling over her lap. “Just like this,” she soothes, as she cuddles you to her chest. “Can you feel my heartbeat?” Your brain is too loud; you can’t focus on anything else. Emily holds your palm over her heart.

“Penelope is gonna get someone here as quickly as possible,” JJ promises. “We’re right here with you. Okay? Just try to breathe. Nice and steady, baby.” Your hand balls Emily’s shirt into a fist, as the throbbing in your chest aches more intensely. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” You bury your face in Emily’s neck, clinging to her, searching for a physical tether to keep from getting washed away in the storm. “We’ve got you.”

The elevator jolts again, dropping another few centimeters. JJ’s body curls around yours, creating something of a protective cocoon around you with Emily at your front and JJ at your back. Your hands tremble, and you try to focus on the odd light from the phone flashlights.

“Nice and steady,” JJ repeats. “I know what it feels like, but you’re not there. Focus on my voice. We are right here, baby. We’re okay. Maybe pick one of your phrases from therapy?” You shake your head vehemently. You don’t make sound in the dark. “No problem. We’ll try that when we’re back on solid ground.”

The elevator starts moving in a controlled fashion, the lights still off. When the doors separate, a group of firefighters stands in the opening to assist. One steps in with outstretched arms to help JJ off the floor. “We got it. Thanks. Don’t touch her,” she warns. Your body trembles, resisting being unfurled from the defensive position you were in. JJ grabs you under the arms and pulls you up. Once Emily is standing, she leads you out of the elevator and back towards the SUV.

The backseat feels safe, afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows and windshield. Emily leans protectively in the open doorway and presses your inhaler into your hands. “Points of contact, love,” she coaches softly. “Leather off the bench. Feet on the ground. Back against the seat. Plastic of the inhaler in your hand. You’re okay.” You nod, feeling like it’s fractionally easier to breathe in the sun. “You’re safe. I’m right here with you.”

Little by little, bit by bit, your symptoms fade. “That’s my girl,” Emily congratulates with a kiss to your temple. “I’m going to check in with JJ and Morgan, alright? You stay put. Play some music on your phone and just breathe.”

You nod, clutching the phone she puts in your hand. Before she closes the door, you call out. “Em?” Her smile is kind and full of love as she turns to look at you. “Take the stairs.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61399129/chapters/160669627

[tomorrowsgardennc]

market update // national seed swap day 2025

geeeeez i have so many notifications here, i guess i really haven't been on here in a hot minute. it has been nuts prepping for my first *major* seed swap, and it legit was a major one. but now that it has been a week, i think i'm finally starting to catch up with things. but i want to share with y'all before i forget all my mental notes and stories!!

i personally took so very few photos, because after 5 minutes in i was SWAMPED!! there was a line the entire 2 hours of the swap, and at the end of the market we had to tape off the seed swap portion in order to pack up! i was genuinely only expecting a steady stream of curious people, but it was shoulder to shoulder people, courtiosuly helping one another find varieties of this or that and everyone talking and asking questions!

now for setup... i had myself, my farmer mama (sooo happy she was able to make it!!), a local community garden captain who i asked to volunteer so he could promote his community and network a bit himself, another fellow plant vendor at the market, and one other volunteer who knew nothing about gardening but LOVES to organized. and y'all... i could not have asked for a better team to help me. farmer mama helped me keep my panic attacks away from so many people in one place... the community garden captain helped put a smile on everyone's face and giving the regulars new info, the fellow vendor was acting like she was a salesman and got so many seeds flying off the tables by answering sooooo many questions, and the last volunteer kept all the tables nice and tidy throughout the swap and refilled when space opened up. it was truly amazing.

we had a total of 25 feet of table space, and every table was jam packed with seeds. i brought approx. 1,375 seed packets (+/- a few dozen between added donos the morning of and me shipping some out the week before). but the thing is... the tables never got empty because of the amount we also had donated back! we had books and nursery containers too. i left with more books than what i arrived with, and all the nursery containers were gone by end of the swap. which is good because i don't need any more of those 😅

i think, with the seeds donated day of, that there were more seeds saved personally than open seed packets than i expected. now, sadly, i'm going to have to get the word out that labeling seeds as "pumpkin" is... well... not all too helpful for anyone. but i have 350ish days to get that word out before the next seed swap. and i plan to! just... need to wind down from this event first, mentally.

ok so, i know that part of my autism is me legit not being able to grasp certain concepts of emotions... even with hubs best efforts i still can't understand empathy. but i also... ok sorry this is hard to explain so it'll be written poorly... but a ton of people kept congratulating me??? saying what i did was a "true accomplishment" and i "knocked this out of the part" and "you succeeded!!" but... this wasn't about me???? i didn't do this for me. i did this for everyone who needs food. for those who have been too scared to try and start seeds before. who have tried before but trying again was too high of an investment. i didn't do this for my benefit, nor for marketing, or anything. the community garden captain gained more social media followers than me, and that's EXACTLY what i wanted!! one woman, dressed as though she was just barely getting by, legitimately broke out into tears when she picked up one envelope, dug through her purse and asked how much and i said "everything on these tables are free!" she said thank you a few times before she couldn't hold it in and grabbed a few more packets and left. congratulate HER on having the means go grow when it obviously means so much to her! congratulate ao many others who now won't have to worry about how they're going to afford a garden this year when bills are so tight! i don't know... maybe i'm missing something. just... i don't need a pat on the back for helping people. this should be the norm, bar minimum, not an accomplishment.

...

anyway... notes for next year:

- have a better donation system. turns out a lot of people were putting the seeds on the table that they brought, and nobody realized it, so i couldn't properly thank those people when they did.

- make sure to get more companies to donate. i had 7 companies donate, but renee's garden donated over 600 seed packets alone while every other company was, like, 50 maximum. we are going to need quite a lot more next year...

- still debating on switching my company to non-profit or not. i've talked to an "official non-profit consultant" at the local community college but she didn't really answer my questions about my type of business. i'm definitely not doing any of this for money, but i need more funding if i want to make seed swaps not only bigger but in more locations, both in person and online. and i have soooo many ideas on how to do so. i just need to figure out the best way to do so, legally. i'm just scared of messing some sort of legal paperwork or taxes up when i switch to non-profit.

- try and get the same volunteer team. i could not have done it without them.

- grow. grow grow grow and grow.

that last note is for you, too.

just grow 🌱

[what-have-i-unleashed]

counting stars

oops forgot about this for some reasons.... hey pspspsps @qin-qin16 come get your food i promise this has no allergies at all :3

“how do you like the stars?” killer asks color as they both lie in the grass, staring up at the night sky. killer has his arms folded behind his head, a contemplating noise in his throat before he continues.

“i know you’ve got some poetic stuff to say about it, hippie boy. something about hope, love, destiny, or whatever.” he plucks and rolls a blade of grass between his fingers, then flicks it away. “me? i hate them so much. i don’t think i’ve ever told you, huh?”

silence. killer takes it as a cue to keep talking.

“they all look so bright and near each other in the sky. but the reality is, they’re just there all alone in the vast universe. distant. cold. burning their last embers of life on their lonesome. or worse, existing in vain while a black hole slowly consumes them. nothing pretty, really.”

color still doesn’t speak, leaving killer to simmer in the cold night air. normally, this would be the part where they argue. color would insist that there is beauty in the world, that there is meaning if you just look hard enough. and then it would devolve into some self-righteous rant about the goodness in people, about how killer is never beyond saving. all misguided belief that killer has tried to beat him out of again and again to no avail.

it is kind of cute actually, how much color actually believes in it.

killer will never admit it though. because that would be a weakness, and weakness is a liability, something to be gutted out of in order to survive. in this world, it’s kill or be killed. and yet, some people don’t seem to get the memo – color being one of them. always reaching out to killer, always trying to drag him towards an ideal life that doesn’t exist. killer should feel annoyed, but it actually feels kind of nice, knowing there is someone who cares for him this much to put up with his flaws. to be willing to reforge him back into a shape they desire. even if it’s futile. even if it’s stupid.

to be loved is to be changed, after all.

and maybe, he’s just started to be primed for change right now. a steel knife thrown into a furnace ready to be reshaped.

“you know…” killer hums. “we’re enemies, so i never tell you this. i like having you around, i think. you make me feel real.” his hand searches for color’s. it’s as cold as his, but it makes him feel warm inside. “when we try to kill each other, i never feel more alive. i have someone who cares enough to look at me, at my ugliness. so… thank you.”

the breeze stills.

“say something, damnit.”

killer turns his head.

color lies there, in the grass, his face slack, his body unmoving, specks of dust flowing around him. no twitch. no soul beat. nothing. just stillness. silence.

the eternal smile on killer’s face doesn’t fade, but it turns sharper, more rigid. he waits, expecting color to stir, to light up his eyes and confirm this is not just a dream. but color doesn’t. color never will.

the wind whispers through the soft grass, brushing against killer’s cheeks like a caress of something long gone.

“oh.”

his voice comes out flat. emotionless.

he should feel something. he should feel many things. grief, regret – anything really. but there is just... emptiness. a hole in his chest where something should be. and yet, nothing comes out.

is he broken?

he looks back up at the stars. they shine just as brightly as before, as if mocking him. as if taunting him with their brilliance, with the fact that the light of his life has been snuffed out.

one more reason to hate stars, really.

"guess you finally gave up on me after all."