#you like things tidy? cool. go ahead with your tidy stuff

[samkuchingdraws]

.

[cherriesnkisses]

velvet & violence

where harry has to see (y/n)’s bakery.

achilles heel installment

word count: 2.3k

content: mentions of blood, swearing, other mafia stuff

hopefully this one is a little bit better, i'm trying so hard!! :,)

The light of the sun starting to set spilled through the windows, golden and soft, washing the polished counters of Petal & Pastry in a warm glow. You sigh, exhausted but happy. It had been a good day: More traffic, lots of smiles, and a few regulars placing orders for upcoming events.

Still, one thought had been echoing in your mind all week: Harry.

Tall, mysterious, and entirely out of place in your world of pastel piping and croissants. You thought about the way he’d said your name, the way his eyes lingered like they were searching for secrets you didn’t even know you had. You’d barely spoken to him for an hour, but somehow, he was stuck in your thoughts like flour to your apron.

You moved behind the counter to tidy up, gently wiping stray crumbs off the glass display. Then, as if conjured by thought alone, the door chimed again.

“Sorry, we’re-” You turn, then freeze mid-sentence. “-closed.”

Harry stood just inside the entryway, still in a dark suit, though his jacket was unbuttoned this time. He looks like a wolf in a candy shop, both completely out of place and strangely at ease. His eyes are focused on you, the corner of his lips tilting upwards ever so slightly. 

“I know,” he says. “Didn’t really come for cupcakes.”

Your heart does something fluttery. “Oh?”

“Came to see you.”

You blink. “Me?”

His smile widened a bit, stepping closer as he surveyed the space. “Petal & Pastry,” he hums. “Fits.”

You flush almost immediately. “It’s...a little silly.”

“It’s cute,” he corrects, gaze falling to the marble counter you’d been in the midst of wiping down. “So’s the owner.”

You couldn’t help the way your lips twitched into a smile while you mentally squealed over the casual compliment.

“This all yours?” Harry asks, gesturing around with a finger.

“Mhm,” you nod, unable to stop the slight swell of pride in your chest. “Took me two years of saving, a loan, and a lot of elbow grease, but yeah.”

He gives a soft whistle in response. “That’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you say, a bit shyly. Then, before you could overthink it, “Do you want a tour?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “A tour of a bakery?”

“Sure. Why not?” you challenge, already moving toward the back of the shop. “Don’t knock it till you’ve seen the kitchen.”

He follows you, amused. You led him past the prep tables, showing off your light pink mixer, your recipe shelf full of scribbled-on notebooks, your custom piping tips. He listened more intently than you expected. His eyes watched you like he was hanging onto every word that came out of your mouth, acting like you were the most important thing in his world at the moment. 

Which isn’t that far off, if he was to be honest. 

“And this,” you say, stopping in front of a triple-tiered cooling rack, “is my pride and joy.”

Harry studies it like an artifact in a museum. “All this...from today?”

You nod proudly. “Brioche rolls, shortbread, lemon tarts, a few cupcakes. I’ll donate the extras if they don’t sell by tomorrow.”

He reached toward a small red velvet cupcake, topped with cream cheese frosting that’s delicately swirled on. “May I?”

You nod encouragingly. “Go ahead.”

He took a bite, and you watched, weirdly nervous. His eyes closed briefly as he chewed, and then:

“Bloody hell.”

You giggle softly. “Is that good or bad?”

“Dangerously good,” he muttered, licking a bit of icing from his thumb. “If I knew your sweets tasted like this, I’d have shown up hours ago.”

“Not really your scene, though,” you teased lightly, leaning against the counter.

“No,” he admits. “But maybe it should be.”

You tilt your head, playful. “What, cupcakes and shortbread?”

He smirks, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of a stool. “Cupcakes, shortbread…and you.”

That flutter in your chest returns, stronger this time. You try to busy your hands with reorganizing the already-perfect stack of takeaway boxes, but your mind is spinning. No one had ever looked at you like that before; Like you were something worth seeking out, like you were more than flour and sugar and polite smiles.

“I don’t really get people like you around here,” you admit, glancing up at him.

Harry raises an eyebrow, resting one hand on the counter, his rings catching the fading light. “People like me?”

You gesture vaguely toward him, his tailored suit, the energy that seems to simmer just beneath his skin. “You’re…I dunno. Kind of intense.”

His lips twitch. “You think I’m intense?”

You nod slowly. “But not in a bad way. Just- like you walk into a room and everyone notices.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on you, quiet for a second. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You walked into mine,” he says, voice low. “And I noticed.”

Your breath hitches slightly. There’s a heat to his words that makes the air feel thicker, like the scent of warm sugar and spice clinging to the walls. You’re not sure how someone can feel dangerous and comforting at the same time. But that’s exactly what Harry feels like.

You look down at your flour-dusted apron and then back at him, squinting a little. “You’re not just saying that ‘cause I let you have a free cupcake, are you?”

He grins, wicked and beautiful. “Wouldn’t dare.”

There’s a pause. The kind of silence that isn’t awkward, but full of curiosity, of questions you haven’t found the words to ask yet. Then, without any pretense:

“Go out with me.”

Your heart skips a few beats.

“W-What?”

“Go on a date with me,” he repeats, a little more slowly this time. “Not a club. Not a drop-in. A real date.”

You blink. “Like…flowers and dinner and everything?”

His lips twitch again. “If you want flowers, I’ll bring a whole damn garden.”

You feel your cheeks burn, comparable to the feeling of opening the oven and getting blasted with hot air. “Why?”

Harry’s eyes soften, the sharp edges of his usual intensity melting just a little. “Because...I want to know the girl behind Petal & Pastry. The one who makes cupcakes that can make a grown man swear.”

You laugh, a light, melodic sound that makes him grin. “I’m just a baker.”

“No, you’re not,” he insists gently. “You’re different.”

You fiddle with the edge of your apron, nerves fluttering but curiosity shining bright. “Different how?”

He pauses, gaze drifting just for a second toward the window where the last rays of sunlight dimmed behind the city skyline. “You have a kind of warmth that’s rare. Like the sort of light that makes people want to come closer. That makes people feel safe.”

You blink, unsure if he’s being poetic or serious. “That’s…really sweet of you.”

“I mean it,” he says, stepping just a little closer, though still careful to respect the delicate boundary of your small bakery space. “And I don’t usually say things like that to people I just met.”

Your stomach does a little flip. “And I don’t usually meet people like you.”

Harry chuckles softly, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Good,” he says. “Maybe that means you’re a little special.”

You swallow, wanting to believe him but also wondering what exactly it was about him that felt so elusive. He had said nothing about what he really did, only hinted. The shadows behind his smile told you there was more, something darker, but you didn’t ask. 

Not yet.

When  you don’t respond for a moment, he adds, “I promise it won’t be some noisy, flashy club. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere we can actually talk. I’ll get us reservations at a nice place where I know the chef.”

You look down at your hands, the faint smell of vanilla and sugar clinging to your fingers. “I’d…have to think about it a little.” You speak softly.

You want to. You really, really want to. But it’s clear that this man has his own skeletons in the closet, plus he doesn’t really give off the vibe that he’s inexperienced when it comes to women. You’re anxious. 

Harry’s gaze flickers down to your hands, then back to your face, as if memorizing every detail before you could fully retreat behind your shyness. He isn’t usually a patient man in any situation. It’s truly a wonder how he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

But for some reason, there’s something about you that makes him want to wait. That makes him want to put in the effort to show you how serious he is.

“No rush,” He hums, giving you a small smile. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small slip of paper, sliding it across the counter with a slow, deliberate motion.

“My number. Call me when you’re ready.”

You stare at the handwriting, feeling warmth curl through your chest. Something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who mattered, made you want to believe in fairy tales and happy endings, even if you didn’t quite understand who he was yet.

“I will,” you said softly, tucking the paper carefully into your apron pocket.

Just as you tuck the slip of paper into your apron pocket, the door chimes again.

You both look over instinctively, but it’s only the wind nudging it slightly. Poor latch, you mentally remind yourself. Still, Harry steps away from the counter with a glance over his shoulder, something unreadable flickering across his face.

You wonder, briefly, if it was instinct. A habit. Like he was trained to always look for exits. You make a mental note of this and file it away to think about later.

“Your door’s a bit touchy,” he says, smoothing his tone again as if it didn’t just dip into something sharper.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Old hinges.”

“Still,” he responds, walking back toward you, “You might want to get that looked at. You work late a lot?”

You nod, a little surprised by the concern in his voice. “Sometimes. Depends on orders.”

Harry is quiet for a beat, then: “You should lock the door when you’re closing up. Even before the sign flips. You can never be too careful, y’know?”

You hum, squinting playfully at him. “Do you always act like someone’s coming after you?” you ask, trying to keep it light.

He chuckles softly. “Only when I’ve got something worth protecting.”

There’s weight in those words. You feel it. Like something sharp wrapped in velvet.

Your smile fades just slightly. You glance around your little bakery, suddenly aware of how small it is. How small you are in comparison to him and whatever shadows might follow him around.

“Noted,” you say quietly.

Harry watches you a second longer, then softens again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

“You didn’t,” you lie.

He hums but doesn’t call you on it. Instead, he pulls his jacket back on with ease, the lines of his suit sharpening around him like armor being re-donned. The softness he’d worn in your kitchen begins to tuck itself away again, bit by bit.

But before it’s gone completely, he leans in, just close enough that you can smell something spicy and rich on his cologne.

“I meant what I said,” he whispers, voice low and warm near your ear. “I’ll wait.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The bell chimes, the door shuts behind him, and the bakery is quiet again.

You stand in the silence, the only sounds being your own breath and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Slowly, you reach into your pocket and pull out the slip of paper again.

You trace your thumb over the ink. Still fresh. Still warm from where his fingers had pressed it into your hand.

You know you shouldn’t be thinking about him as much as you are.

But you are.

- 

Across the street, Harry slid into the back of the black SUV, the soft click of the door closing behind him. The leather seats creaked as he leaned back, exhaling slowly.

Ash sat in the front passenger seat, arms crossed, his gaze already fixed in the rearview mirror.

“Well?” he asked without turning around.

Harry didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on the bakery, the faint golden light from the window casting a gentle glow onto the sidewalk.

Ash shifted. “She’s got no idea, does she?”

“No,” Harry said quietly.

Ash turned in his seat just enough to look at him. “And you’re not gonna tell her.”

“Not yet.”

Silence stretched for a moment, thick and heavy in the dark interior of the SUV. Ash ran a hand down his jaw, clearly debating how much to say.

“You know how this goes,” he said eventually. “You get close to something soft, and someone else will use it to hurt you.”

Harry’s jaw ticked. “I know.”

“So why risk it?”

Another long pause. Harry's fingers drummed once on his knee before he finally spoke, voice low and unreadable.

“Because for once...I want something that doesn’t come with blood on it.”

Ash stared at him for a beat, then turned slowly to face forward again.

“Then you’d better be ready to bleed for it.”

Harry didn’t reply. He just kept looking out the window, toward the little bakery with the fading light and the girl inside who didn’t yet know how dark the world could be.

[concidineart]

Ficlet for @fwhimmy-week! See the read more below or the AO3 link above!

PROMPT: Full Moon Jimmy seems to be in a spot of trouble, so fWhip goes to help.

SolidarityGaming was shot by a skeleton.

fWhip snorted at the message. His arms were deep in the mechanical guts of the Forge’s cooling system, so he couldn’t tease the Codfather just yet. His glove brushed over the loose bolt he’d been looking for. Finally. fWhip kept one hand on the bolt so he wouldn’t lose it again and maneuvered his other out so he could grab a small wrench.

SolidarityGaming was slain by a zombie.

“C’mon Jimmy, it's getting embarrassing.” fWhip smiled as he tightened the bolt.

The fish should know better than to be out at night. Yes, fWhip was also up at this cursed hour, but he had the sense to stay indoors. Mobs were always worse on a full moon. fWhip closed the hatch, screwed it shut, then peeled off his grimy gloves so he could message Jimmy.

<fWhip> need help?

<SolidarityGaming> …yes

fWhip laughed. He tidied up: tools in the box, wiped up grease with a rag, put on spare clean gloves. He hefted his glider over his shoulder, a custom build with Grimlands red fabric and stained black wood, checking over the frame for tears or misaligned battens. Locking the Forge behind him first, fWhip lit a rocket and launched up into the frosty bright moonlight.

SolidarityGaming was shot by a skeleton.

It took a bit for fWhip to find him, until the full moon glinted off a blur moving away from codfolk cobbled roofs. fWhip swooped ahead of Jimmy and between the trees he spotted discarded armor and tools littering the mud.

He also spotted the skeleton. Diamond helmet, gold chestplate, stolen boots, enchanted bow. Pretty kitted out if you were armorless and Jimmy.

fWhip barreled down, sword drawn, and drove its point into the skeleton’s chest. The force threw the skeleton onto its back. fWhip propped his boots on its shoulders for leverage and tugged his sword free.

“fWhip! My stuff!” Jimmy had spotted him.

fWhip swung his sword with both hands, aiming for the vulnerable bit of spine just above the chestplate, and lopped off the skeleton’s skull, helmet and all. It rolled off into the grass and the bones began crumbling to dust as fWhip turned to give Jimmy a lazy salute.

“Help is here!”

Jimmy pried a shovel from the swampy muck and fWhip jogged over to help.

“Jim, Buddy, what are you doing out here? What if I hadn’t been awake? You could have lost all your stuff.”

“I know.” Jimmy groaned and tipped his rescued boots over to pour out swamp scum. “They ganged up on me! I saw the zombie, but…they ganged up!”

fWhip watched Jimmy pull on the Codfather Head, some ornamental thing. Kinda creepy to look at and Jimmy was all kinds of anal about it. Flipped out if anyone looked him in the face when he wasn’t wearing it.

“You know there’s an easy way to avoid them doing that? It's called sleeping.” 

“I’ve got it.” Jimmy snapped.

Satisfied he’d made his point, fWhip nodded and stepped back as Jimmy tucked away the last of his items. “Good to hear.”

Only Jimmy didn’t head home. He waded deeper into the swamp water, moonlight and mangrove casting strange shadows over the Codfather Head.

“Uh, your shack is that way.” fWhip pointed his sword to the coastline.

“Thank you. You can go now.” Jimmy parted sections of reeds like he was looking for something.

“Well now you’ve got me curious.” fWhip spotted a zombie shambling in his peripheral and followed Jimmy into the black water.

“You can go, fWhip. Really.”

“So halfway home I get another message that you beefed it? Nah, I’m good.”

Jimmy stomped off, but he couldn’t really get away with the full moon shining a spotlight on the cod man’s scales. 

After an awkward minute of watching Jimmy meander the swamp, dodging creepers, zombies, and skeletons with the grace of a lame dog, fWhip yawned. “Not that watching you struggle with mobs isn’t fun…”

“You could help.” Jimmy grumped, wiping a chunk of rotten flesh off his sword.

“But,” fWhip continued, “what are you doing? If you need bonemeal, there are easier, less stabby ways to do it.”

“No, I’m—There!” Jimmy cut himself off and vaulted over some roots to clamber along an unsteady bank.

fWhip chased after him into a wide open stretch of marsh. Slimes, their translucent green almost glowing in the silver light, filled the weeds and rushes. Little ones. Big ones. It was more slimes than fWhip had ever seen outside a farm.

Jimmy plunged right in, stabbing and twisting. Slimes punctured, split, and slorped into sad puddles. Soon Jimmy had a good pile of slime built around his ankles. Then a large slime bounced onto the Codfather’s shoulders and his feet slipped right out from under him.

“Ah! Ah. Bad slime.” fWhip ran over and grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. He heaved. 

Jimmy stumbled up and against fWhip’s shoulder for support, wheezing through a nasty mix of mud and slime. Then he shoved fWhip away with one hand. “No! No, you can’t help. Go away. You can’t help with this.”

Offended, fWhip shoved Jimmy back, making him nearly slip over the slime still trying to kill him. “That’s a fine way to say thank you! Didn’t I give you supplies for a slime farm? Why are you hunting slimes to begin with?”

Jimmy started to respond, got hit from behind, and then had the sense to stab the offending slime before turning back to fWhip and opening his arms. “That’s exactly why! You wanted slime in return for the supplies, but the farms aren’t going to be done for another month. And Sausage, Mythland—I can’t be in debt to you! You’re his ally! If you help me get the slime, then it doesn’t count!”

fWhip stepped back and glanced in Mythland’s direction. He wiped a splotch of slime out of his hair and shrugged. “I’m helping you get the slime anyway? That’s the point of the farm?”

“It’s not the same. It's not.” Jimmy turned away, apparently done with the conversation, and stabbed a couple small slimes inching away.

An arrow hit Jimmy’s thigh, pinging off his armor and spinning into the dark. Both fWhip and Jimmy whipped their heads around. A pair of armored skeletons had found the clearing. Jimmy let out a loud aggravated noise, but fWhip grinned.

“I’ve got them! Dibs!” fWhip retrieved his own bow from his inventory and darted toward the skeletons.

“But!”

“You kill the slimes already!” fWhip yelled over his shoulder. “If you don’t hurry up the sun will beat you and you’ll have wasted a whole night.”

Jimmy hesitated a moment longer, then smiled.

They worked in tandem; fWhip picked off the various mobs that spotted Jimmy and Jimmy clear-cut the slime herd. Soon they were both panting, misty breaths and trudging feet. Jimmy began collecting the slime remains into balls. Two stacks. That’s what Jimmy owed him.

fWhip walked over as the full moon sank behind the trees. “You get enough?”

The Codfather Head was bowed over the shulker box Jimmy brought. A short stiff shake. “No.”

fWhip sighed. Yeah, two stacks was a lot to ask for one night, even a full moon. “Right, see you tomorrow.”

Jimmy lifted his head, a puzzled frown visible. “Tomorrow?”

“Midnight. Same place?” fWhip quirked his lip.

Jimmy’s shoulders dropped, relaxing in surprise. “Oh. OH. Yeah, that’s… Hundred percent! Midnight!”

[pinkacademic]

Crunch Time Exam Prep

My girl @seliniteheart requested: “How to prepare for exams 3-4 weeks ahead while not going insane because they're the hardest exams in the entire major” and this seems time-sensitive, so I gotchu girly! I hope I got this to you in time!!

Scheduling

Break your time up effectively so that you can get as much information crammed into your brain as possible

Break it down also so thay you repeat the information on a good interval. Maybe, if there’s three weeks to go, repeat question x every monday and info y every tuesday, and do a practise paper every friday?

If applicable, figure out what’s most likely to be on the exam and focus on that

Focus also on your weak points. Don’t waste energy on the things you know and are good at, give them a go over but focus on the stuff you don’t like

Schedule productive breaks- if you’ve been elbows down on your desk for a bit and want to keep the study energy up but need a break, take a break for some kinaesthetic learning, for example.

Take 0% breaks- in other words, take some breaks to do absolutely nothing, where even thinking about the exam is BANNED. Life-Hack- inform other people of this strategy so that you don’t get your mum coming into your room like “how’s the studying going?” when you’re mid-meditation, or to be watching your comfort YouTuber when your bestie is like “girl, I’m so stressed for this exam on Monday!” This time is for 0 brain power, no stress.

Sorry to the girlies who also have to consider jobs and other priorities, but see if you can work with your employers, the aunt you babysit for etc to reduce your time, or if you can blend your studies. Eg maybe you’re studying for a maths exam, which means helping your little cousin with maths homework keeps you in the right mindset to study for an hour when you get home. Or maybe your retail job is cool and lets you study in the breakroom, or even take your textbook to the till when its quiet.

If your bosses aren’t cool, unfortunately, you just have to make the most of spare time, but as long as you’re maximising your study time to work for you, you can do this!

Breaks

As mentioned above, schedule in breaks that keep the vibes up, and breaks that turn your brain OFF completely. Set yourself school hours eg 9-3 or even 9-5. Doesn’t matter, just pick a time in the evening when that’s it OVER and no more studying.

Make sure to go for water regularly, and eat at regular times- and DO NOT take your notes with you!

Taking Care of Yourself

Make your study experience as painless as possible by giving yourself a good environment. If you like the library, sequester yourself into a cozy corner; if you like a café, same deal. If you’re at home, make sure to keep your space tidy and organised.

I’m gonna mention going to get water again. Go get some right now, actually. Where I live, the hottest days of the year are exam season and back-to-school season. Christmas exams are a whole separate nightmare but you’ll still sweat through your fifteen million layers! Go hydrate!

If you’re hunched over your desk, you need to stretch. Find YouTube video you like, especcially if you’re not that familir with stretching. And go for a walk at least once a day, weather permitting.

If you’re a kinaesthetic learner especially, do a proper cooldown after exercising! That’s true anyway, but especially if you’re adding your brain as a muscle to train.

Actually, maybe we should all be doing warm-ups and cool downs… go over your favourite aspects of your subject in a quick five minutes at the start and end of your sessions!

The Actual Studying

Aka, the hard bit. Its so much mor fun to just organise your space, gather all your pens, and set up your instagramable study session, avoiding the actual “study” bit- God knows that’s me. How you actually study is so different person to person and subject to subject, so I’m going to give tips that are hopefully applicable to a lot of people, but may not all work for everyone!

Cater to your own preferences: I sometimes listen to classical music when I study, I sometimes listen to numetal, so what makes sense to you.

If you need to, block out all distractions: do not disturb on your phone, even turn off your wifi if you can.

If you’re like me and need distractions eg adhd: try pacing to shed any excess energy, listen to loud music (lol like my numetal ha), if possible, listen to your notes aloud while doing something else (I used to play solitaire in class). I find that if you have something else that you can focus on such as a pretty menial/repetitive game like solitaire, or a song with lyrics, your brain gives more energy to that so that instead of a hundred million thoughts distracting you, its only one extra thing.

Read your notes aloud to yourself and walk around your room- hit all three learning styles at once

Write and re-write things, condense it down, do past papers, and just keep repeating the same information until you’re sleep-talk in just the quadratic formula and/or you’re even dreaming in French.

Ok, that’s it for now. I hope that helped selineiteheart, and I hope it was useful to anyone else who needs this! There are a tonne of resources out there, and I’m sure you’ll find what works for you- lmk what you want to see next! Also, I hope you do well in your exams! Good luck, I’m sure you’ve got this!!

[nancypullen]

Some Things Never Change

Here we are, on the home stretch of July.  The sun will set on my fifties in  sixty-some days.  I live in a new state, my life has changed drastically, but some things remain the same.  I’ve hit my peak tolerance for hot weather right on schedule and find myself longing for the comfort of socks and sweatshirts.  I keep my eyes peeled to see who will be first to advertise fall decor and fragrances (I see you and appreciate you, Bath & Body Works).  I watch the mail for the Halloween catalog from Grandin Road, too pricey but so much fun to thumb through.  I get excited when I see a yellow leaf on a tree, completely ignoring the fact that it probably turned yellow from the 97 degree heat and it is not, as hoped, a harbinger of autumn.  We’ve got a long way to go before we’re delighted by colorful leaves and pumpkins.  Ten days of July and all of August  stretch ahead of us in a steamy string of days. These dog days of summer are no joke. I try to keep cool in the summer by wearing a lot of dresses. This year I hit a great deal at Belk (online) and bought some super cute dresses by Crown & Ivy. I love the ruffles and bright patterns. These two are my favorites.

They’re light and cool and I look exactly like that in them, not at all like a tea cozy or a Rose Bowl float.  Anyway, they’re comfy and I love ‘em.  I have plenty of other summer dresses, and I wear them around the house and in the yard.  So much cooler than anything else in my closet.

A couple of days ago I had on a sleeveless, cotton dress, several years old, and I was doing a few chores. I was in the yard pulling a few weeds and deadheading some flowers (the zinnias are finally showing off!), then went inside for a cold drink and a potty break.  Outside again, I tidied up around the mailbox, checked birdfeeders, pulled a few more weeds, filled the hummingbird feeder, etc.  Just busy work.  I realized it was nearly time to start dinner, so I headed back into the house, washed my hands, and started prepping.  I was busy chopping away at some veggies when the mister came in.  He walked up behind me and tugged at my dress and said “You’re all tucked in here...”  You guys, I had tucked my dress into my panties after my potty break AND GONE BACK OUTSIDE.  I don’t know which is worse, that the whole street saw my backside and bright pink undies, or that I’ve apparently lost all sensation in my butt cheeks.  How could I not feel that??  Since I didn’t see myself from behind I’m hoping that it was just a small corner of the dress, but I’ll never know.  My only consolation is that I wasn’t playing music while I worked, so at least I wasn’t dancing. Like I said, some things never change. On another, less embarrassing, note - I’m itching to show a before and after photos of the master bath but we’re still waiting for an installation date for the flooring.  I received this email: “ The estimated date of arrival for your product is 07/24/2023. it can take up to 7 additional days for all product to to be received. We will contact you within 2 business days after your product is received to schedule your installation. If there are any delays, we will notify you.” So the flooring, which we were assured was in stock, is not?  Are they talking about some other product, like quarter round or something I’m not familiar with? Is it weird that they wouldn’t have installation stuff in stock?  Why the heck isn’t anything ever just straight forward and easy?  I remind myself daily that I’m very fortunate that this is the minor irritant in my life.  I know that it could be much worse, but it’s still frustrating. We had to rattle their cage just to get that email telling us everything is delayed. I’m old school.  I’m from the days when customer service was exceptional and patronage was valued.  And yes, I realize that makes me sound 150 years old, I don’t care. When you hand over a wad of money it would be nice to receive even mediocre service.  Alright, enough whining.  I suppose I should so something productive, toss in some laundry or wipe down some surfaces.  This house gets dusty so much faster than the Mt. Juliet house.  I don’t know why, but you can bet if I ever figure it out I’ll put a stop to it. I hate dusting, but I hate seeing dust even more.  I’m terrible, I’ll just make a quick swipe and not move objects on a shelf.  I do better with our nightstands, but they’re easy. I have found that these makeup remover cloths (love them for my face) are fabulous at picking up dust, especially on baseboards. Makes the job much easier.

There are a million different brands, these are just the ones I ordered.  They’re great - toss them in the wash and they keep their shape and fluffiness. I use them over and over and over.  They take makeup off with one swipe, and dust off a baseboard like magic. $8.99 on Amazon!  Once again my blog post has bounced all over the place (See? Some things never change!) but hopefully it provided a break in your day and maybe a smile or two.  I was recently asked why I started signing off each blog post. I spent years sharing here and never did the whole “stay safe” and “love ya’” sort of thing.  It’s because a very, very sweet person, a stranger to me, during peak pandemic days sent me an email.  This kind person said that they’d stumbled across my blog, feeling very isolated and lonely, and it was like reading a letter from a friend.  I’ve never flattered myself that this blog meant anything to anyone other than me, it’s just been a way to track our days. But since that email I’ve thought that if anyone comes across my ramblings I want them to feel like we’ve just had a chat, or they’ve gotten a newsy letter.  I’m sort of your weirdo penpal who walks around with her dress tucked into her panties but sure does hope that your day is splendid.   That’s why you’ll probably always see me end these silly posts like this. Wishing you the very best this day has to offer.  Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[talenlee]

February 2025 Wrapup!

Hey, it’s the end of Smooch Month. Did you miss it? You did? Good news, here’s a set of links and explanations to the stuff I wrote this month so you can go back, check it all out and punch your subway ticket to get closer to a free sandwich.

I think that’s a thing you can do. What do you mean they use an app now? Gross!

This month is nice and tidy, being four clean weeks. That means that there’s always four Game Piles and Story Piles in February (except for leap years but leave me alone). Two video articles, and two non-video articles.

Regency Solitaire, a properly great example of the Solitaire genre of games with a fun visual novel plot in the middle. I made this video without my hands! Or rather I made this video while I was injured from a bike crash in January, and that meant that portions of it were made using speech-to-text.

For the Queers, a print-and-play card game modelled on a pretty good story card game that for all of its hopeful offerings just feels like it walks into a rake with how it executes on its idea, and what that idea is.

The Top 5 Mass Effect Romances I Care To Talk About, which is a video form of an old article I wrote that I thought was funny and fun to read aloud.

Persuasion, a cool game by cool people about feigning interest in romances that actually executes well on semi-cooperative design and uses accessibility to make the game more thoughtful and interesting. That one goes up tomorrow, so check it then.

I actually hit my limit on these four smoochy pieces of media really ahead of time! Four slots? I might need to talk about romance media at other times of year at this rate!

A Sign Of Affection, just a truly excellent and beautiful josei manga anime adaptation aimed at women who want to kiss thoughtful and cool boys. Great show, loved it, so full of great moments.

her, a movie most shocking in how its high technological concept just absolutely smashes face-first into the realities of the stupid future it imagined was happening.

First And Last And Always by Sisters of Mercy, an album I described as ‘mourning an erection.’

Everything Puppies, a chat with Fox after watching a Hallmark movie about dogs. This is a tradition that I greatly enjoy because I think it’s valuable to have an idea about how bad media can get made, and why, and therefore, be kind to yourself about the things you can manage to make!

Dev Diary:

Entry 1, a starter kit guide for people interested in starting making games

Entry 2, work on Moonshiners, considering tokens

Entry 3, more work on Moonshiners, where I build out the skeleton of the deck

Entry 4, where… as I write this? I hope? I’ve got some card faces set up.

When considering Dungeons & Dragons material, this smooch month I used the excuse of romance to talk about the way that 3rd edition D&D used the concept of the ring. In the same way of approaching how a game system uses a concept, I looked at the way 4th edition used the term ‘kiss,’ and what it’s a metaphor for, most of the time. But don’t worry, those were just straightforward applications of system databases, because I was really saving up the Good Writing Points for an article on the way that ‘true love’ could form a culture-shaping power in a fantasy setting, and an article about the reason there’s no ‘god of love’ in Cobrin’Seil, even after I took a chance to shoot at the Forgotten Realms for its mishandling of the idea of a god of love years ago.

Hey, don’t go thinking Dungeons & Dragons is the only place I like making fun of awful nerd garbage that is fundamental to my personality though! I also wrote about a romance episode of Transformers, about the kiss moves in Pokemon, and about the time that Magic: The Gathering retold the story of Beauty and the Beast. And hey, while talking about awful fandoms with too much influence on my life, I wrote about the way Jesus being born of a virgin is a stupid claim that serves foundation to how modern Christians treat women badly.

Ahem.

Bit of a mood swerve there.

I wanted to show my whole ass this month, it seems though, and so I wrote some articles about things like one of my OCs, who is one of my other OCs’ boyfriends, Kelvin! I spoke about how in The Locked Tomb there’s a character who feels like he’s related to me and also makes me feel weird because I’d make him hot if he was mine. Then I got the obligatory Ranma 1/2 post out of the way by talking about the things about Ranma Saotome that turned me bisexual and also got me to dismantle my toxic masculinity (or at least, y’know, start), and then learn about how trans women existed. Finally, I examined my own cliche’d writing, and specifically, spoke a lot about how I approach expressing intimacy in fiction that’s not a good representative of intimacy in real life.

Here’s this month’s t-shirt design, and you can get it on a sticker!

February’s theme of smooch month stands in naked contrast to its more material needs. See, Smooch month is also ‘The Start Of The Semester Month,’ where at the tail of the month we’re doing things at the university like O-Week (it isn’t as fun as it sounds, it stands for Orientation Week, and it’s not as fun as that sounds), and a week after that it’s time for actually doing classes.

Know what needs to get done before classes?

A poopgroup (see, that’s not as rude as ‘shitload’) of paperwork! It’s paperwork to make sure that I have my contract in position, that I’m on the educational track for my PhD, that if my contract is changing I’m good for that contract, that I’m up to date on the student needs, that I’ve done the recent IT department training. Complicating all of this is that last year, there was a sort of forcible restructuring.

Here’s the ‘plain language’ explanation here: The government passed rules that said you can’t keep someone doing a job so long they should be permanently, without giving them a permanent position. Since I (and a lot of my peers) were all doing that, and that was how the university worked, there needed to be a major reorganisation to get the people who were entitled to them proper positions.

That took so long that now, we’re looking at getting short-term work contracts (like, 2-3 weeks!) to get the semester started while we sort out those permanent positions!

Now this is not a criticism! The university is a enormous slow machine that can’t pivot quickly and is working on doing tons of things at once, and I know that the fastest it can do things is going to result in things being broken, so it’s worth taking its time and making sure that things are done right.

But it also means that this month has been full of active email inbox checking to make sure I didn’t miss anything, that there’s no paperwork waiting on my attention and trying to be quick as a bunny about it.

Real stressful! I’m very tired!

Good thing I’ll be going to work and relaxing for a bit!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[carluex-carplay]

10 Reasons to Buy the Wireless Carplay Adapter

Hey, guys! I’m sure you’re all pretty familiar with the wireless CarPlay adapter. But what’s your reason for wanting one? Alright, let’s dive into it. Especially the last point, which might just make you choose CARLUEX without a second thought!

Easy Connection

The wireless CarPlay adapter makes it super easy to connect your iPhone to your car's CarPlay. No more messing with cables! Just hop in your car, and your device will connect automatically. This means you can enjoy a smooth driving experience every time you get in.

Drive Safely

Using a wireless connection not only makes driving easier but also helps you stay focused on the road. With wireless CarPlay, you won’t need to fuss with your phone as much, which means you can pay more attention to driving. This can really boost your safety and make every trip feel more secure.

Easy to Use

The CARLUEX wireless CarPlay adapter is super easy to use thanks to its plug-and-play design. Just plug the adapter into your car's USB port, and you’re good to go! You don’t need to download any extra apps—just connect and enjoy the convenience of wireless CarPlay right away.

Works with Almost Any Car

The adapter is super versatile and works with most cars that have wired CarPlay or Android Auto. So, no matter what brand or model you drive, as long as it has wired CarPlay, you can easily use this adapter.

It’s also compatible with a wide range of iPhone models, from the iPhone 5 all the way to the latest versions. Just make sure your iPhone is running iOS 10 or higher.

This broad compatibility means you can enjoy the convenience of wireless CarPlay in different cars and with various devices. It’s all about making your life easier, no matter what you drive!

Do More, Hands-Free

Wireless CarPlay opens up a world of cool features, making your drive smarter and easier. Want to use Siri? Check your maps? Make a call? Play some tunes? Send a quick text? Or even peek at your calendar? You can do all this right from your car's screen - no need to pick up your phone.

It's like having a super-smart assistant in your car. You can do so much without taking your hands off the wheel or your eyes off the road. This isn't just about making driving more fun (though it definitely does that). It's also about keeping you safer by cutting down on distractions.

So, you get to enjoy all this high-tech stuff while staying focused on what really matters - the road ahead. Pretty neat, right?

Keep Your Car Clutter-Free

Going wireless means saying goodbye to messy cables in your car. It's like giving your ride a mini makeover! And guess what? We're throwing in a free mounting bracket to make things even better. This nifty gadget keeps your device steady and easy to reach.

With this setup, your car feels more comfy and looks way neater. It's like having a fresh, tidy space every time you hop in. No more tangled wires or fumbling for your phone. Just a clean, organized ride that makes every trip a bit more enjoyable. It's amazing how a little less clutter can make driving so much more fun!

Quick Automatic Connection

The adapter features a quick automatic connection, allowing your iPhone to connect as soon as you get into your car. This handy feature saves you time by eliminating the need to pair devices or do any manual setup. Just hop in, and your iPhone will instantly connect to wireless CarPlay. This means you can quickly enjoy navigation, music, and other smart functions, making your driving experience smoother and more convenient.

Boost Your Car's Smarts

Got a car that only works with wired CarPlay? A wireless adapter can unlock a whole new world of smart features, making your ride feel way more high-tech. With a wireless connection, you're not just getting seamless music and navigation. You can also use Siri and other apps more easily. This upgrade doesn't just make driving more modern - it adds a bunch of smart features to your car. Every trip becomes more fun and convenient. It's like giving your car a mini-brain boost!

Customer Support and Guarantee

At CARLUEX, we want to make sure you have a great shopping experience with no worries. That’s why we offer a 30-day money-back guarantee. If you’re not happy with your purchase, you can easily return or exchange it. Plus, we provide a one-year warranty. If you run into any issues while using our product, our support team is here to help you quickly. With our solid customer support and guarantees, you can feel confident and relaxed while enjoying your new product.

A Special Surprise for You

Starting July 30, 2024, we've got a sweet deal for CARLUEX customers. Every purchase comes with a free gift: a sleek mounting bracket. This isn't just any freebie - it's designed to make your wireless CarPlay experience even better. The bracket lets you set up your device just the way you like it, whether you're driving or parked. It's all about making your ride more comfortable and your tech easier to use. With this handy addition, every trip becomes a bit more enjoyable. It's our way of saying thanks and making sure you get the most out of your CARLUEX product.

Upgrade Your Driving Experience

The wireless CarPlay adapter is a game-changer for modern driving. This cool gadget not only gives you a hassle-free wireless connection but also makes driving safer. Its easy plug-and-play design and wide compatibility mean you can upgrade almost any car with wired CarPlay.

Ready to take your driving to the next level? Get the CARLUEX wireless CarPlay adapter now and enjoy a smarter, safer, and more convenient ride. Don't forget that, starting July 30, 2024, every purchase comes with a stylish mounting bracket to make using your device even easier.

Don’t wait—upgrade your driving experience today and make every trip a joy!

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[olderthannetfic]

you (seem like you) like actually fully love yourself and your live and don't want to die. How?? Like how did you get to that place?

(you don't have to answer if you don't want, I just think you're cool and am in awe)

--

Aww, thanks, anon.

Well... I have two responses here, and I want you to listen to both of them, okay?

Response the first is that while I've certainly worked at and still work at loving myself, a lot of my basic well being and mental health come from loving, sane parents with decent boundaries and a lack of genetic predisposition to mental illness. I'm not saying this to depress you but to point out that nobody should be too hard on themselves.

Mental health things can be like financial things where everyone's telling you "bootstraps, bootstraps", while ignoring that they started life way ahead of the game, and not everybody has those advantages. So if things seem very hard, don't beat yourself up. Maybe you just got dealt a shitty hand.

Response the second is that even with a shitty hand, life is not hopeless. What you do on a daily basis makes a big difference. Fixing my sleep and eating habits is a lifelong process, but it has definitely helped my mental health. Forcing myself to finally write my first novel involved learning time management I never did as a ~gifted kid~. Finishing that project made me feel better about things I didn't even know bothered me.

Exercise is an... uh... ongoing project. (Read, I am terrible at doing exercise, but it does help with mental health.) Decluttering my mother's horror of a house is too, and every time I make the space I spend my days in tidy and cute, I feel so much better. Scattered belongings mean a scattered mind for me. Having less stuff is a part of that. I'm a packrat by nature, but it's bad for me.

Being in my 40s also helps. I was happier than most teens, but I still had a lot of emotional ups and downs and hormones going nuts back then. I know who I am better now than I could have in my 20s and 30s.

I too have times I feel awful though. I'm extremely anxious about money right now. I have family I can fall back on, but that means groveling to someone in a way that's deeply embarrassing for my middle-aged ass. I'm about to move in with my girlfriend, and a lot of decluttering and such needs to happen first. I do think I have a better foundation than most of liking myself deep down, but it doesn't necessarily get rid of the surface level anxiety and bad brain days.

If you are currently very young, some things may just calm down as you age and hormones calm down. I don't mean horny hormones: I mean how teenage bodies dump chemicals in your brain all the time, and emotions are as volatile as you'd expect from that. If you are not so young, good habits won't solve everything, but they're a good first step. The key for most people is a stable environment, low stress levels, and professional help, usually both meds and talk/behavioral therapy. All of that takes money, so I understand how frustrating that can be to hear. Aggressive decluttering, making your space nice, and removing sources of stress from your life like toxic friends or social media addiction are things one can start on without a lot of money though.

Nobody has to go through life wanting to die all the time. We all have bad days, but that's extreme. Feeling better is a long process with a lot of hard work, but there are strategies you can try. I recommend seeking out advice from people who started in a much darker place than I did. They're going to have more practical advice because their attempts to love themselves were more conscious and concrete. I know some of my readers have linked to subreddits and other sources of free advice on how to replicate things like CBT and DBT on your own if going to a pro is not an option.

Good luck, nonnie!

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

KNY Pillars and Their Love Languages

Just thought this would be a cute thing to write so here you go! Hope you enjoy :)

My requests are open at the moment so go ahead and read my rules and request some stuff! ♡

Spoiler Free!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Giyuu: words of affirmation, gift giving, acts of service

He’d be very shy at first but I feel like the longer he spends time with you, the more comfortable he gets and starts showering you with lots of lovely words. He’d struggle saying “I love you” I think, but I feel with time, he’d being able to tell you how beautiful you are everyday. He’d also say you’re very important to him and how he never wants to lose you or leave your side. And that’s his way of saying “I love you” instead.

He’d definitely start out with lots of gifts and acts of service since they didn’t involve words and touch. Give him some time, he’ll open up and you won’t regret it :)

He’d definitely buy you things he sees on his missions that remind him of you and buy you a lot of pretty things as well. I can see him getting you quiet a bit of clothing and jewelry/accessories and stuff because he’d just imagine you in them and blush so much that he’d just have to get them to see you in it

Shinobu: acts of service, words of affirmation

She’d definitely act very caring and motherly so she’d do lots of acts of service for you. She’d make you food, tidy up a lot, do chores when you’re feeling a bit lazy that day, and she’d probably open up more and start showing lots of physical touch

I feel her words of affirmation would be a lot of encouragement. She’d always remind you how amazing you are, how great you did that day and how proud she is of you. She’d also probably tease you a lot but in a very endearing way lolol

Mitsuri: physical touch, words of affirmation, gift giving

My lady, the LOVE pillar!! She’d drown you in so much love! She’d hug you, kiss you, touch you and hold you in anyway she can whenever and wherever! You will not be able to escape her grasp. She’d definitely hype you up a lot and give you so many loving nicknames. She’d cook for you a lot and buy you so many things

“I saw this when I was on a mission and it reminded me so much of you I just had to get it!! I love you!!!”

“Look at this really cute kimono I found!! You’d lot so cute in it, my love! Get in it now! I have to seeeee!!!”

You will definitely feel very loved in a relationship with Mitsuri

Obanai: gift giving, words of affirmation

He’d be very shy and start off with buying you a lot of things lol. He’d be like Mitsuri and buy you things when he’s out and about and something catches his eye that reminds him of you. He’d also get you stuff he thinks you’d look nice in. Most of the gifts he gets you he probably went out seeking, already having something in mind of what it is. Once you guys get more comfortable around each other, he’d definitely start showering you more in words of affirmation. He’d probably never call you by your name and only by endearing nicknames once you reach that point with him

“Here... take this...” as he looks away blushing. “Oh, Obanai! It’s beautiful... thank you so much~!” You’d take his gift and give him a peck on the cheek. His face would be so red and he’d be so flustered he’d have to walk away to cool down lolol

Kyojuro: acts of service, words of affirmation

I feel that Kyo would definitely do lots of acts of service to show you that he’s very reliable and that you can always depend on him. He wants to make sure that you know that he will always be there for you. He’d most definitely have so many nicknames for you and constantly tell you that he loves you. He’d always comment on how stunning you look everyday and brag so much about how proud and in love he is with you. He’d also be pretty touchy but I feel that he likes giving out acts of service and words of affirmation better. He’d definitely be touchy if you tell him to and would love receiving it from you as well.

“Haha! My beautiful Y/N! They looked absolutely stunning today!! Absolutely ravenous! Spectacular!! HAHA!!”

You’d blush and hide your face from embarrassment in his chest as he continues to boast and beam about you to the other pillars. The others have heard enough of his constant bragging. They get it. He loves you!!

Sanemi: acts of service, gift giving

This man is going to be so shy and tsundere omg. He’d get you gifts that he thinks would make you look pretty like hair pins/ties, cute kimonos, nice shoes, jewelry, you name it. He’d also most definitely do so much acts of service.

“Hmm... I meant to do the dishes today but I’m too lazy to get up right now...”

“Stay there, I’ll do it.”

“Nemi! You don’t have to-“

“I’m doing the dishes!!”

Man would be blushing so much around you aaaahhhh! If you’re patient with him, he’ll definitely open up a lot more and start being real touchy and probably not let you go at one point

If he’s every away for a long time, hooooo boyy he’s gonna come back and lock onto you like a koala and not let go for a long time. He might fuck around and get a lil sappy and tell you he loves you so much and that he never wants to lose you and would do anything to keep you his forever and ever

Muichiro: gift giving, physical touch

Feel like little Mui would look really spaced out when he’s out on mission and stuff then a random item he sees that reminds him of you will snap him back to reality so fast and he’d buy it and be really excited to give it you when he’s finally back home. I can also see him being really happy holding your hand or any other kind of subtle holding/touch to remind him that your his special person.

He’d be so happy holding your hand around the other pillars and just think to himself “hell yeah, I’m holding Y/N’s hand! They’re mine and only mine”

He believes he was born to be happy and strives to find and keep this happiness. You are definitely his happiness and will hold on to you so damn much

Himejima: physical touch, words of affirmation

I can imagine him hugging the heck out of you. He’s a giant teddy bear! You’d be smothered by hugs, cuddles and kisses. I feel like because he’s blind, holding you makes me feel so much more calm and happy. Because then he knows that you’re right there and not leaving his side. He’d also definitely tell you he loves you everyday. There won’t be a day where he doesn’t get you all sappy and spill his heart out to you

He’d probably wanna be the small spoon sometimes and it’d probably be a bit awkard if you’re smaller than him but you’d both just melt into it and fall alseep like that.

Being with Himejima is a guarantee of endless hugs, cuddles, kisses, hand holding, koala hugs, etc etc

Also, I feel like if you wiped away his tears after he got emotional over something, it’d melt him into a puddle and he’d be absolute putty in your hands akfozkaokcie hold the maaannnn

Uzui: words of affirmation, physical touch

Uzui would definitely tell you how special you are to him and how much he loves you. He’d always call you and his other wives his top priorities and that nothing will come in the way of you five. He’d also hold, hug and kiss you a lot. He has a lot of partners so I feel like he’d have a lot of love to give out. I also can see him feeling guilty for not seeing you and his wives a lot since he’s away on mission and will definitely come back home with lots of gifts for the four of you. And he’d probably go all out and get all the flamboyant, expensive and shiny stuff too.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been away for so long my lovelies. As an apology I have flamboyantly bought you these extravagant gifts!”

After all the gift exchanges and sappiness he’s definitely gonna spend a lot of quality time with each of you and make sure you’ve gotten your love and affection meter filled to the max

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Three of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta’d so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

You’ve just stepped out of the grocery store when you’re half-barrelled into by something big and solid. Instead of falling, like you expect, when the moment passes, you realise not only are you standing upright, but that your arms have been relieved of the two heavy paper bags you’d previously held.

It takes you second to fully process the situation, but when you do, you find yourself blinking up at the smug face of Bucky Barnes, your load now tucked easily under his arm, looking a whole lot smaller than when you’d struggled to pick them up.

“Wha– I thought you were away?!” You let yourself gasp in belated surprise, resting a hand over your heart momentarily. He wears sunglasses, which you find odd considering it wasn’t exactly bright out, but you’re still a little too taken aback by his sudden appearance to really make note of it.

“And miss our shopping trip?” He asks, voice filled with mock horror.

“You can’t shake me off that easy. I stick.” The smugness melts from his features, replaced by something softer as you shake your head at him, beginning to walk.

Almost a whole month and a half of these regular, strange meetings, and the two of you had fallen into something that felt a lot like friendship, but crucially, wasn’t quite. Usually he’d help you with your groceries, sometimes you’d corner him at a cafe and seemingly quiz him on aspects of HYDRA and your capture. It was… comfortable, and you hated to admit it, but you’d sorely missed actual human interaction.

Bucky moves to walk beside you on the footpath, and you eye him. You understand why he wears sunglasses now, at this angle you could clearly see the large purple and black bruise around the ring of his eye, and when you take a closer, less subtle look at his clothing, you realise he’d simply thrown on his heavy winter coat over top of what looked like a blue motorcycle jacket.

“You know I would have been just fine if you had somewhere else to be…” You venture, shifting your eyes away from him as you speak. Bucky glances down at you, and then at his attire.

“Just got back.” He says shortly, though you’ve come to know that was just his way sometimes.

“Most people might go take a shower… get some sleep… not go help some lady with her shopping.” You muse.

The slight smugness returns to his face and his gait and he swings his head to look down at you with a corny grin, only added to by the shades.

“Most people aren’t me.” He tells you cockily, leaning down slightly to emphasise this. He leans back again moments later, as if considering you, and you squirm a little under his gaze.

“Besides, I think you like having someone do the heavy liftin’.” It’s still part of his act, something halfway between a shadow of himself from a different time, and a romance lead perhaps.

You noticed he fell back on humour, on sarcasm or this faux personality whenever he felt like his true response wouldn’t be acceptable. Maybe most people wouldn’t notice the shifts so clearly, but you do. You did the same thing any time you had to interact with another human being.

Still, the way it makes butterflies appear in your chest sends you off kilter every time, not just because it was him, but because it had been a solid amount of time since anybody spoke to you or flirted with you like you were a halfway decent option. Especially someone who looked like Bucky.

You weren’t blind, you’d recognised his objective attractiveness long ago, somewhere in a dimly lit room, where tracing his jawline was a distraction from whatever else.

But it was different now. He wasn’t just the tragically beautiful assassin you were forced to work on, he was… Bucky.

An almost friend.

Bucky.

You scoff at his display, and at any fleeting notion that he’d even really look at you twice, and shake your head.

“I can’t say it doesn’t help on the days my hands shake too much… Lost one too many cartons of eggs to that.” You chortle at your own past predicament.

You miss the way Bucky’s smile falters, and his shoulders drop, and he forces himself to look away from you for several seconds.

“Where were you, anyway?” You ask, changing the subject as you come to a set of lights. Bucky shifts your groceries to his other arm and cocks his head at you.

“I’m pretty sure our deal was that I answer questions about what I used to do. Didn’t think my current shenanigans were on the table…?” You see an eyebrow rise above the lens of the glasses, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. I didn’t want to hear about your sidekick stuff anyway.” You turn away from him slightly only for him to step into your view again.

“Sidekick? You call me a sidekick?” Bucky sounds almost genuinely offended, and you scoff, leaving him trailing behind you when the walking light turns green and you make for the other side of the street.

“Please, you’re basically a professional sidekick.” You can’t keep the grin from your lips now as Bucky hurries to catch up with you, his brow now in a deep set frown.

“That’s unkind. That’s hurtful.” He tells you, truly, honestly pouting.

“I’ll have you know my sidekick stuff is extremely interesting.” He continues, sticking his nose up a little now. You shrug.

“Probably, but you didn’t wanna tell me about it so…” You spin to face him as you speak, stopping on your apartment buildings stoop.

Bucky still pouts as you blindly buzz yourself in, taking towards the stairs right away. Bucky follows, and you realise a little too late that he never usually came inside with you. He’d usually hand over your things at the door. Truthfully, as dismissive as you were being, you were actually rather glad he’d shown up, and you weren’t quite ready yet to part ways.

The rest of the climb to your floor is filled with Bucky huffing about how cool his job was, and you internally wondering if it was too weird to invite him inside. Your fear of the man had all but evaporated, despite the frequent dreams you’d been having, but you wonder if letting him into your home would change that.

Your apartment was your sanctuary. You had escape routes mapped just in case, you’d organised your things so that there was always some kind of makeshift weapon available to you in every room… considering these plans were made with his last break-in in mind, you’re not sure how your subconscious might react to having him physically within your space again.

You act as natural as possible, and when you do reach your door, you force yourself to steady your hand as you unlock it. Bucky had stopped even his playful whining, and you know he isn’t ignorant to the current situation.

Stepping inside, you hold your door open with your hip and casually jerk your head in the direction of your kitchen.

“That can just go on the counter.” You say, cursing the slight shake in your words. You continue ahead of him quickly, even as you hear your door close shut behind you, depositing your purse and coat on the sofa.

Bucky does as you say, and you turn in time to see him step back from the countertop, his eyes darting around the space quickly.

A different kind of anxiety rolls over you then, and you regret having not tidied up a little before inviting him inside.

“It’s a little messy…” You apologise, sweeping some dust from the nearest surface and scrunching your nose. Bucky blinks at you and frowns, opening his mouth, but you accidentally cut him off as another thought hits you.

“And I’m sorry about the cold… The window keeps breaking.” You gesture to the main window in your living space, rolling your eyes a little.

Bucky’s face morphs into a frown as he looks past you to the window in question, a plastic bag duct taped over a portion.

“Your windows broken?” He asks, concern filling his voice.

“It keeps happening. My landlord employs the cheapest handyman in the city, I swear to god…” You roll your eyes again and try to brush it off with a laugh, but Bucky’s face doesn’t change, even as he looks back to you.

“It’s the middle of winter.” He states, and then before you can reply, he straightens, his frown of displeasure shifting into one of determination.

“I’ll fix it.”

---

Bucky replays the clips on his phone one last time, making sure he properly understood the instruction, before he moves to copy it.

A short trip to the hardware store later, he’s back in your apartment, sat awkwardly on your windowpane as he finishes up replacing the lower piece of glass. He’d made sure the piece he’d bought was hardy, and unlikely to cause you future problems. He can’t imagine how cold it would have gotten in your place with a broken window, and tries not to scowl.

You linger nearby, having put your groceries away and offered him coffee, you now sit on your couch pretending that you weren’t watching him.

He doesn’t blame you for eyeing him just as nervously as you had on his first few visits with you. Seeing each other out and about was one thing, but he doesn’t underestimate the amount of trust you were showing in allowing him into your home. Hell, he doesn’t even think he’d be extending such liberties if he were you.

But he’s glad for it, if not only for selfish reasons.

It was easy for Bucky to pretend he didn’t know your status to one another. He’d ignored the little black mark long enough, ignored the urge to seek you out (before he knew you were you) so it really wasn’t that different for him. The only problem, and it wasn’t really a problem just yet, was that Bucky liked you.

He liked your jokes and your sass, he liked the way your expressions spoke louder than your words ever could, and how you didn’t even seem to realise you were making them half the time. He liked that you always seemed to have something interesting to add to a conversation, even on topics he wouldn’t have thought had much interest.

You were smart, and funny and cynical in all the same ways as him, and Bucky liked spending time with you. If he didn’t think it would make you uncomfortable, he’d hang around you a lot more.

Being friends with you was easy, in the same way that being friends with Sam was easy. He didn’t have to hold back certain information, or pretend he was something he wasn’t. You knew everything already, and for some reason, had decided you were okay with him sticking around.

“Do you think you’re going to find your soulmate?”

The question nearly makes him jump, as if you’d been looking right into his thoughts.

Bucky stops what he’s doing briefly and looks up at you. Your lips are pursed and your eyes move from his exposed wrist to his face. He coaches his face into what he might consider normal if the situation were different, and hums.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He clears his throat, and watches you shift your position on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you.

“I don’t know. It’s not really something I have to consider, so I guess I was just thinking about our situations… How it would feel.” You frown as you speak, and Bucky already knows you’re unsatisfied with how you’d answered. He stops completely and faces you, giving you his full attention.

“What do you mean?” He prompts. You think for a moment.

“I guess I just don’t know if I would.” You state, still frowning, though this time for an entirely different reason. Bucky feels something in his chest tighten.

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly the most normal person in the world… and I know your soulmate is supposed to be your perfect half, but there’s still choice involved, right? Not everyone chooses to be with their soulmate in the end…” Your eyes turn down to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

“I’m just not sure they’d want me.”

Bucky’s stomach drops at your confession, something an awful lot like hurt shooting through him.

He wants to hurry and reassure you that you were wrong, that you didn’t have to worry, but he stops himself.

He reminds himself that your fears were his own, only he knew for a fact the answer.

“I don’t think you should spend your time worrying about that.” He says carefully. You stop fidgeting and look up at him. He swallows thickly.

“Your soulmate will want you, regardless of if you’re the most normal person in the world or not. And if they’re worried about your past, or the way it affects you now, then they probably don’t deserve you anyway.”

Bucky shrugs, and tears his eyes from yours to continue in his task, but stays fully aware that your gaze remains trained on him.

“If you found them, I’m sure they would want you.” He adds, almost anxiously, his mind buzzing with a million thoughts.

From the couch, you let out a short laugh, the tension in the room lifting a little. He spares a glance at you, unable to to stop the smile that creeps onto his face at the sight of your own.

“What?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Just never took the Winter Soldier for a romantic.” You tease, making him roll his eyes.

Bucky puts the last touches on your new and improved window and takes a step back.

“Would it shock you to learn HYDRA didn’t count it as a useful skill?”

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.18|Brittana

A/N - Just a little something that yall might find some comfort in today so I’ve written a short epilogue. I’m not usually one for fluff, but I figured we might need it. I’ve always considered writing as something I can do to uphold Naya’s legacy because Santana is apart of that legacy and here, she’s always living her best life.

Thinking of you all today 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Once again, Brittany finds herself standing alone in her bedroom surrounded by boxes. It’s a little weird seeing her room looking so bare, but this move doesn’t drudge up the same kind of mournful feelings the last one did. This time there’s excitement, there’s anticipation, there’s –

“Hey B,” Santana gives a little tap at Brittany’s bedroom door. “Need a hand?”

Brittany turns to find Santana giving her that same soft grin she has come to adore. She’s leaned against the door frame, clad in her jean cut-offs and a plain t-shirt, and Brittany’s never been so enamored.

“What?” Santana’s grin widens.

Brittany smirks, “Can’t I check out my hot girlfriend?”

Santana rolls her eyes although her cheeks flush, “Smooth as ever.”

“You know it,” Brittany winks before she goes to zip her suitcase. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve finally finished packing my room. It’s been a super productive afternoon.”

Santana sputters out a laugh as she glances around Brittany’s bedroom. The walls are bare aside from a couple framed pictures Brittany couldn’t find it in herself to take down. The desk by the window is neat and tidy for once too, but what makes Santana stop are the two gold crowns hanging off of one of Brittany’s football trophies.

“Not taking these?”

Brittany turns to find Santana pulling one off and putting it on. She looks just as regal as she did on Prom night and it makes Brittany’s heart feel so full. She can’t help but reminisce at how beautiful Santana looked all done up – she really took her breath away that night.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Brittany teases, “Too bad Quinn will be at Yale. I’m sure she’s going to miss the constant reminder that we won instead of her and Mike.”

“I can still text her,” Santana quips as she takes off the crown and sets it down where she found it. She goes back to looking around the room again, “It doesn’t look like you in here anymore.”

“Yeah,” Brittany sighs as she looks around too. Her eyes settle on Santana and she begins to grin, “But it’ll be so much fun decorating our own place together. It’ll look like the both of us.”

“True,” Santana grins, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither!”

“I can’t believe how fast the year went by,” Santana mentions, “It feels like just yesterday that I was jumping off swings with you.”

“You mean head-butting me?” Brittany jokes.

“That too,” Santana laughs, “And now we’re off to college…together.”

“Not just yet,” Brittany reminds her with a pat to her suitcase.

“That’s right,” Santana nods to it, “That everything?

Brittany looks down and smiles, “Yup!”

Santana eyes the lone bag warily, “You’re only bringing one?”

“We’re only going for two weeks,” Brittany replies with a giggle, “You’d be surprised how much I fit in here. Bikinis don’t take up that much space which is a plus.”

She looks to Santana again hoping to see a smile but instead she finds her worrying her bottom lip. It makes Brittany chuckle as she closes the distance between them. Once she’s close enough, her hands land on Santana’s hips.

“Don’t stress,” She tells her sweetly, “That defeats the purpose of a vacation.”

“I’m not stressed,” Santana shrugs, “I’m just wondering…if I packed a little too much now?”

Brittany only giggles before pressing a kiss to Santana’s lips.

“You’re cute,” She says.

Santana only sighs through her smile, “Can you tell I’m a little nervous?”

“A little?”

Santana pouts, “This is my first big road trip. I didn’t want to forget anything.”

Brittany wraps her arms around Santana, holding her close, “I’m sure you’ve got everything and if not we can always buy stuff. You know Florida does have a mall, right?”

Santana was a little hesitant about joining the Pierce Family on their vacation back down to Florida for Summer break because she didn’t want to intrude on their family time, she’s so considerate like that. Brittany couldn’t imagine spending two whole weeks without her though, even Pete and Whitney begged for Santana to go.

Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to show her around Brittany’s old stomping grounds and most importantly, take her to one of her favorite places. With all of that taken into consideration, Santana couldn’t find it in her to deny Brittany this. She also didn’t mind getting out of Lima for the Summer, beats tanning by the pool alone.  

“Babe, this is going to be great,” Brittany says earnestly, “It’s going to be relaxing and we’ll get to spend so much time together doing all kinds of fun things. It’ll be exactly what we need before we have to leave for Columbus, because you know once we get there it’ll be all work. I’ll have to start football training again and you’ll have cheer conditioning.”

“You’re right. Ohio State doesn’t mess around,” Santana nods as she begins smiling again, “This’ll be great. I’ve never been on vacation like this before.”

“Neither,” Brittany grins before grabbing her suitcase again. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of road to cover.”

\\

Brittany and Santana decide to drive Santana’s car down to Florida ahead of Whitney and Pete who are catching a flight a couple days later. They take several pit stops along the way, making sure to snap silly photos by all of the state line signs so Santana can text them to Maribel and Hector to keep them updated on their adventure so far.

It probably takes them twice as long to make the trip, but it’s well worth it when Brittany gets to watch Santana’s eyes brighten as they finally cross the Florida state line.

“It’s so much different than Lima,” Santana says as she stares out the window at all the passing palm trees, their fronds waving hello in the warm breeze as they drive by.

Brittany only glances over with this cheek-bunching grin before she’s back to concentrating on the road ahead.

\\

A while later, they pull up to the rental Whitney organized and this time Brittany’s the one who’s in awe.

“No way!” She exclaims as she triple checks the address her mom gave.

“What is it?” Santana questions.

“I used to point this house out all the time when we lived here,” Brittany tells her, “Pete and I called it the Unicorn House because of the pink shutters and the baby blue door. We always thought it was so cool, the most colorful house on the beach. I had no idea it was a rental!”

Santana smiles, “Well let’s go check it out.”

Relieved to stretch their legs and really start their vacation in the sun, Santana and Brittany make quick work of unloading the car and moving everything inside. Just like Brittany figured, the inside of the house was just as cool as the outside. All modern fixtures, colorful artwork decorating the walls, but the real attention-grabber was the view.

“Wow,” They said in unison as they approached the back sliding doors that led out onto the terrace. It was nothing but white sand and clear blue water.

“Let’s open it,” Brittany says and goes to pull open the glass door. There’s a light breeze and the scent of saltwater. Brittany smiles into it; she can’t believe how much she’s missed this.

Lima’s been great to her, it’s the place she met the most perfect girl ever, but this place will always hold a special spot in her heart too. As she glances to her side at her girlfriend, her smile grows because now she gets to share it with her too.

“What do you say we make a quick run to the shops so we can have breakfast out there?” Brittany suggest with a grin, “We can unpack and stuff later.”

“Sounds awesome,” Santana replies, “When’s your mom and Pete flying in again?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Brittany says as she gives a little tug at Santana’s shirt, “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves until then.”

Santana’s grin widens, “Even better.”

\\

They decide to load up on fresh fruit, because after so many hours of fast food and gas station snacks they are dying for something healthy. Together they walk the aisles hand in hand, stopping every so often to add something to the basket Brittany carries.

It’s not their first trip to the store together, but it feels different this time knowing that it’s just them. Everyone they know is back in Lima, so doing something like grocery shopping together in Florida makes them feel so grown up and independent.

For a second, Brittany wonders if this is what it’ll feel like once they move away together for college. She’s sure the novelty of it all is bound to wear off the more they do it, but for now she leans into the excitement of it. The thought makes her feel giddy inside because she can’t picture herself doing such a routine thing with anyone other than Santana.

“Should we get anything else?” Santana wonders after adding a punnet of blueberries to the basket.

Brittany looks at their haul so far and shakes her head, “Nah. We can just order take out later if we want?”

Santana nods and they make their way to the check out lane.

\\

Back at the rental, Santana’s in the kitchen getting all of their fruits washed and cut up when Brittany reappears clad in her bright pink bikini.

“Okay! Your turn,” She calls out as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Santana does a quick glance up to reply then does a double take when she sees what Brittany has on. Her jaw drops at the sight and she nearly cuts off a finger!

“Woah,” Santana says in time as her eyes rake up Brittany’s tone figure, “I was not prepared.”

“Should I put on a shirt?” Brittany jokes.

“No, no,” Santana’s quick to respond, “No shirts. You can stay just like that.”

Brittany blushes as Santana continues checking her out. It makes her feel warm all over and a little confident too because usually Santana’s the one getting her worked up. It’s a nice change when the tables are turned.

“So, you want to go change and I’ll finish here?” Brittany asks.

Santana’s still staring as Brittany comes closer. She doesn’t even blink until Brittany’s tapping at the bottom of her chin with this smug grin on her face.

“Hmm?” She hums, “What?”

“Do you want to go change now?”

Santana smirks as she pulls Brittany in and pins her against the counter, “It’s not really the first thing on my mind right now.”

“Oh?” Brittany’s grin turns devilish.

Santana bites her bottom lip as she plays with the knot at Brittany’s hip. “The extra football training you’ve been doing is really paying off. Like I’ve always thought you were the hottest girl to ever walk the surface of the Earth, but damn.”

“Go change,” Brittany tells her with a giggle. “We’ll never get to the beach at this rate.”

“Fine by me,” Santana teases as she wraps her arms around Brittany’s waist and starts littering her neck with soft kisses. “Like so fine by me.”

Brittany struggles because having Santana’s lips on her is always kind of like kryptonite, but her desire to experience Santana’s first trip to the beach outweighs spending the rest of the morning wrapped up in bedsheets. Call her crazy, but they’ve got all day to mess around meanwhile the sun’s only out for so long.  

“Baby, as good as this feels,” Brittany sighs as she pulls away. She stares down at Santana lovingly, “I really want to take you to the beach first. Just you and me.”

Santana cutely pouts and it has Brittany giggling.

“Come on,” She says with a little pinch at Santana’s side, “I think it’ll be worth it.”

“I think it opens up lots of opportunities to be a tease,” Santana complains jokingly.

“Good thing we won’t be far from here then,” Brittany winks in return.

\\

Once Santana finally got changed, she met Brittany back in the kitchen where the blonde had packed a bag with their breakfast and a couple bottles of water along with their beach towels. Brittany had her sunglasses sitting atop her head, her long blonde hair free from its messy bun from earlier.

“Ready?” She asked excitedly.

Santana only grinned as she reached for Brittany’s hand to hold and together they made their way down the wooden terrace steps until their bare feet met warm sand. Brittany was already headed for the coastline, but Santana stopping held her back. She turned, wondering if Santana forgot something, when she realized it wasn’t that at all.

Santana never felt the feeling of sand between her toes before.

A smile formed on Brittany’s face as she watched Santana wiggle her toes. It was only for a moment, a little excited squeak of a giggle escaping the brunette before she looked up again – ready to go. Brittany only wrapped her arm around Santana’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head as they started to walk again.

Picking the perfect spot was always something Brittany took pretty seriously, but on this section of the beach – any spot was perfect. They were just far enough away from the popular areas so it wasn’t too crowded where they were.

“I’ve never seen water so blue,” Santana admires as she stares at the crashing waves. “Beats the lake in Lima.”

“Definitely,” Brittany chuckles.

They end up laying out their blanket a few yards away from the water so they don’t have to walk very far to get in. While Santana smooths out the blanket, Brittany sets down their bag and starts to pull out their towels and breakfast.

Together, they sit side by side and share from one bowl Santana found in the kitchen. It’s a mix of all the fruit they picked up earlier and with their feet in the sand and the sound of the waves and seagulls in the distance they’ve never felt so at peace.

“Is it true that you have to wait thirty minutes after eating before you can swim?” Brittany wonders aloud. She’s resting back on her elbows, her legs outstretched but she’s still too far away to touch the water.

Santana shrugs, “I have no idea. Probably should though just to be safe.”

“True,” Brittany grins as Santana lies back too.

She’s already starting to tan and Brittany can’t take her eyes off of her. It’s almost like this is too good to be true and she finds herself reaching out to touch just to make sure.

\\

Once their thirty minutes are up, Brittany’s on her feet trying to coax Santana into the water but who knew she’d put up such a fight?

“We didn’t come all this way to just sit in the sand,” Brittany teases as she tugs on Santana’s hand, “Come on.”

“That water is about to be cold as hell. No thank you!”

“Hell isn’t cold, Santana.”

“You know what I mean,” Santana then gets up when she finally breaks out of Brittany’s hold, “Now way I’m getting in.”

“But it’s not even cold,” Brittany replies although she’s not really sure since she hasn’t tested it for herself. “Why are you picking right now to play hard to get?”

“You haven’t seen nothing yet!” Santana jokes before taking off.  

Brittany laughs the whole time as Santana ducks and dodges her advances until Brittany’s speed finally does her in. Soon she’s got Santana cradled in her arms bridal-style, carrying her towards the water like she weighs nothing.

“Britt! Brittany! Don’t you dare!” Santana chastises between laughs, “I don’t want to get my hair wet!”

Brittany only stomps her way through the water, “Who goes to the beach and doesn’t want to get their hair wet? That’s silly, San!”

“Me, that’s who!” Santana giggles but she stops putting up a fight and just wraps her arms around Brittany’s shoulders.

Their faces are so close with the way Brittany holds her that their noses brush when the blonde suddenly looks to her. Really, she’s checking if Santana’s actually being serious because if so then she’ll happily take her back to shore but if not it’s fair game. Instead though, she gets sidetracked by the brilliant smile she wears and how beautiful she looks with her hair down.

“I won’t get you wet if that’s really what you want,” Brittany says innocently but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye too.

She’s standing still waist-deep in the water and Santana’s butt is barely touching the surface. Brittany does her best to hop so that the incoming waves don’t splash her which is pretty nice of her with all things considered. She could totally be that person and drop her without a second thought.

“Well, when you say it like that…” Santana starts to smirk.

Brittany lets out a laugh before she leans in for a kiss.

It was meant to be a distraction, but it ended up way steamier than she intended as she slowly  sank to her knee so that they both dipped below the surface. She could feel Santana’s teeth sink into her bottom lip from the initial shock of the water temperature but then it was soothed by her tongue gliding over the nip.

“See?” Brittany teases, “Not that cold.”

Santana only rolls her eyes as Brittany adjusts her hold. She goes from cradling Santana to having her straddle her lap instead. It’s a much riskier position than before, but neither of them complain.  

As they get acclimated to the water, they slowly move from kissing to playfully splashing at each other as they wade around. They go back and forth like that for awhile until they move back to the shore to get their tan on.

“I’m having slight regrets that we’ll be going to school in Ohio,” Santana mentions awhile later as they lie on their stomachs, “Must be nice living close to a beach.”

Brittany grins, “So you’re liking your first trip then?”

“Baby, I love it,” Santana replies happily and leans over to kiss her cheek, “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Brittany coos before she gets to thinking, “If you love it that much we can always transfer down here? I’m pretty sure there’s a few schools here that would love to poach me. You too.”

“So tempting,” Santana chuckles.

\\

They lie like that for awhile longer before the sun gets to be a little much and they head back to the rental.

It’s one of Brittany’s favorite feelings, that tiredness after spending the day at the beach, and she coaxes Santana into the shower with her to get rid of all the sand and saltwater. Despite finally getting each other this close without any barriers between them, they’re both too tired to actually make any moves.

Instead, they take turns standing underneath the cool water and washing off any residual sand.

Afterwards, they slip into something loose and tumble into bed with a yawn. They don’t even bother getting under the sheets first, their sun-kissed skin still warm from the shower. The just cuddle up to one another and doze off within minutes.  

\\

Hours later, Brittany awakes to Santana tracing her finger along the bridge of her nose. She blinks away the last bit of sleepiness and looks around the room, surprised to see it drenched in hues of orange and gold from the setting sun.

“I think you might’ve gotten sunburnt,” Santana mentions softly, “Your cheeks are a little pink.”

Brittany touches them bashfully, “Yeah. They do that after I’m out too long. Doesn’t hurt though, I put on sunscreen before.”

“Okay,” Santana smiles as her hand moves to rest on Brittany’s hip.

The blonde looks to the window, “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

“Shit,” Brittany curses, “I didn’t meant to sleep for that long.”

“It’s okay. You were tired,” Santana replies as she starts circling Brittany’s hipbone, “Hungry?”

There’s a familiar rasp in Santana’s voice and it has Brittany leaning in ever so slightly. She knows that tone, she’s been quite familiar with it since the night she won a championship title with the Titans. It’s come to be a favorite of hers.

“Starving,” Brittany smirks.

Santana bites her lip, “Good.”

“We can order a pizza,” Brittany husks as she slips her thigh between Santana’s, “I know just the place. They’re notorious for taking way too long but the pizza manages to always be hot still.”

“Perfect,” Santana smirks before she’s closing the distance.

\\

The next day, they have a bit of a sleep in due to their…activities carrying on pretty late into the night. Free house to themselves? Of course they couldn’t pass up the opportunity, but they’re well-rested and get up to do a tidy of the house before going to pick up Pete and Whitney from the airport.

Again, Brittany feels that same feeling from the day before when she and Santana were out shopping for breakfast. She can’t help but notice how easy it is for them to fall into such a domestic routine. It makes her feel so grown up, like it was just a couple weeks ago that she was graduating and sure she’s always been pretty independent but it’s different with Santana by her side.

When they get to the airport, they’re only waiting for a little while before Pete’s excitedly waving at them with Whitney trailing behind him. There’s hugs all around when they finally meet before they make their way to baggage claim.

“Did you have fun on the plane ride over?” Santana asks Pete.

“It was okay,” Pete shrugs, “Kind of bumpy but mom let me play games on her phone.”

“Nice,” Santana grins.

“Yup! Did you have fun driving here? Wait, did you guys go to the beach already?” Pete asks as he looks to his sister, “Britt’s cheeks are pink.”

Brittany’s eyes widen, “Uh…”

“We might’ve gone for a little bit,” Santana admits and watches Pete start to frown. He was pretty adamant about them waiting for him but Santana’s quick to recover, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t go again today! You’ll have to check with your mom first.”

Pete’s face fills with a mega-watt smile, so similar to Brittany’s it’s crazy.

“She’ll totally say yes,” He tells Santana, “Mom loves the beach too!”

“Sweet,” Santana grins.

“Alright, we just need to pick up the rental car and we’re out of here,” Whitney says as Brittany follows behind with Pete’s little suitcase.

“You didn’t have to rent a car,” Santana tells her, “I told you I was okay with sharing mine.”

“You’re too kind, honey,” Whitney smiles, “But I’m sure you girls will want to explore the area too.”

Santana just nods as Brittany comes up beside her, their fingers twining so casually.

“Speaking of rentals,” Brittany mentions, “I can’t believe you got the Unicorn House! It’s so cool.”

“We’re staying at the Unicorn House?” Pete asks eagerly. Brittany nods to him and he just about combusts, “No way! That’s the coolest house on the beach!”

“Totally,” Brittany winks, “It’s even cooler inside. Just you wait and see.”

\\

They all head to the rental house and it takes everyone no time at all before they’re making their way out to the beach. Everyone except Whitney who runs to the store for snacks and something to eat for dinner because apparently they can’t have pizza two nights in a row despite Brittany and Pete’s protesting.

Again, it’s nice to just lounge in the sun and cool off in the water whenever they want. Pete’s here too while Whitney’s at the store and Santana watches adoringly as he and Brittany toss their favorite football back and forth.

“Babe! Come play with us,” Brittany calls out to her as she tosses the football to Pete in a perfect spiral.

“Yeah! Come play, Santana!” Pete chimes in.

“I’m fine getting my tan on from here,” Santana answers then starts to smirk at Brittany. The way her muscles tense whenever she throws the ball or how her arms flex, it leaves Santana’s mouth dry, “The view’s not so bad either.”

Brittany lets out a laugh as she readies for Pete to throw the ball back. She’d have to agree about the view though, hers isn’t so bad too with Santana laid out in her maroon bikini on their beach blanket, skin glistening with sweat. She swallows dryly as her thoughts start to wander to the night before.

“Britt!” Pete shouts, “Look out!”

Brittany looks up and catches the football just in time before she’s thumped in the head with it. Good thing her reflexes are as sharp as ever!

“Careful baby,” Santana smirks before she’s rolling onto her stomach to even out her tan.

Brittany only narrows her eyes playfully before she’s throwing another perfect spiral in Pete’s direction.

\\

Once Whitney joins them, Pete goes from playing with Brittany to splashing in the shallow water with their mom. Brittany sits alongside Santana where they both share a bag of chips and watch Pete’s splashes get bigger and bigger.

“You’re so cute with him,” Santana mentions.

Brittany raises her brow, “Speak for yourself.”

Santana lets out a disbelieving laugh, “Right.”

“You are,” Brittany urges with a bump to Santana’s shoulder, “He loves spending time with you. Not as much as I do, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You ever wish you had a younger sibling?” Brittany wonders.

“God, no. Never,” Santana jokes before softening, “But seeing you two kind of makes me second guess it. Then again, Pete’s cool so you’re lucky.”

“True,” Brittany giggles. There’s another pause before Brittany speaks up again in a softer tone, “Thanks for coming out on this trip with us. I know you were a little iffy at first, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Santana replies with this smitten little grin on her face. “We should totally make this an annual thing.”

“Coming back here?”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “It’s like our reset button. No matter how busy or crazy it gets wherever we are, we can always come back here and just – reset. It would be nice.”

Brittany starts to smile. Santana mentioning doing something every year means she anticipates them being together for a really long time which duh but making plans like that in advance makes it all feel a little more real. She always thought her strong feelings might’ve been a little exaggerated since they’re young and love always feels so all-encompassing, but then Santana goes and says something like that.

This love, it’s bigger than she thought. Maybe it’s even one of those forever kinds of love and that kind of thinking makes Brittany happier than ever.

“We can totally do that,” Brittany agrees before she leans in for a chaste kiss. She can feel Santana smiling too against her lips and she’s never felt more complete.

Whatever this upcoming year plans to throw their way, whether it be on the field or in the classroom or even at home, Brittany’s totally ready for it.

Because together, well…anything is still possible.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What's a TV show you've gotten into recently? I’ve started/finished/caught up on several shows since being in the hospital the past 2 months, but the most recent one I started finally is Stranger Things. I’ve been meaning to watch it for awhile. I’m almost done with season 1. I’m a binge watcher and can get through seasons quickly, but since my brother and I are watching this together and we usually only have time for like 2-3 episodes (plus he’s not here everyday), it’s going to take longer. I’m really into it so far and I just want to catch up already. My blog is flooded with stuff from the latest season and I want to join in. 

Do you have a hard time remembering your dreams? Yes. It’s weird, like I know it was something weird and random, but I can’t really tell you much else. And if I do remember, it’s for a brief time. Very rarely can I actually recall what happened and remember it later on. I’ve had ones that really effected me.

Have you ever or are you on any type of anti-depressant? I have been on them before, but not currently. Have you ever seen the movie Jennifer's body? I think I’ve seen parts of it. What was the last thing you painted? This cute little ceramic Easter decor. I had bought one for my brother and I to do on Easter together. 

What's your favorite 90s song? I have a ton of favorite songs from the 90s.  Donuts or muffins? Ooh, both.  What's something you've been thinking about? My health issues are always center stage, plus just my life in general. I’m going through a lot right now and have a long road ahead. I’m also always thinking of food and drinks cause I haven’t been able to have either one in over 2 months. I just wanna go homeeeee. I wish I could recover at home and be with my family in my own room and bed. I want to see my precious doggo. D: Do you or anyone you know have asthma? I know people who do. What time is it currently? 10:29AM. Do you ever stay up late to see the moon at its peak? Not for that reason, no. I’m just always up late. What does your phone case look like? It’s pink and purple and full of cute little stickers I put on it and a phone charm.  

Are you doing alright today? Meh. What's your favorite fizzy drink? Coke, Cherry Coke, Pepsi, Wild Cherry Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, Cherry Dr. Pepper, that new cream Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew and various of its flavors.  Have you ever written a song? Ha, I attempted to when I was like 15/16 and going through my emo phase. When did you last pump gas? Never. Do you own a gun? Nope. Do you like milk in your coffee or tea? I like flavored creamer or Half and Half with sugar in my coffee and a packet or two of sugar with my tea. Do you have a lazy eye? No. Is your room normally messy or tidy? It’s usually pretty clean, but it’s a bit disorganized/cluttered right now because it’s been rearranged and sorted through to get rid of some stuff.  Do you enjoy windy days? No, I hate it.  Do you experience second hand embarrassment? Yeah, I have. What makes you feel confident? Nothing. What's your self care routine? I don’t have one... I haven’t taken the best care of myself in a lot of ways. :/ What would you define as "heartbreak weather"? Huh? Do you have a flower bed or flowers planted around your place of residence? We have some potted plants. What was the last thing you said out loud? I asked my nurse something. What's the last thing you remembered that you had recently forgotten? *shrug* What color is your shirt? I’m wearing a blue hospital gown. Do you have any regrets from this past week? Yes. What scents do you currently smell? *shrug* Hospital smells. What's your favorite flavorite chip/crisps? Andy Capp’s Cheddar Cheese Fries and the Ranch ones as well, Doritos Nacho Cheese, Dorito’s Cool Ranch, Lay’s Wavy chips. I love ranch, French onion, guacamole, and spinach and artichoke dips with those chips as well. What's your favorite snacks? Those chips and dips, Cheez-Itz, various sweets. Have you ever experienced vertigo? Yeah, several times. Not fun. What apps do you use the most on your phone? Kindle and Facebook. Who is someone you find to be pretty? Elizabeth Olsen. What's the heaviest weight you've ever lifted? I don’t lift weights. What color is the current object you're sitting on? White. Do you enjoy coloring books still? I do. I have a few of ‘em.

[platypanthewriter]

First Kiss (In the Time Of COVID)

Harringrove April prompt 01 (because I missed it the first time): First Kiss!  Second to last!  Almost there!  Steve gets touch-hungry enough to consider the ridiculous health-organization suggestions about gloryholes, and has sex and then a whole relationship with a man he meets at a bar...before he ever gets to kiss him.

Steve was only at the bar because it was right next to the dry-cleaners with no public bathrooms, but he couldn’t help staring at the New York City Department Of Health Safer Sex Guidelines, posted right on the wall between the sinks as he washed his hands.  

Gloryholes were recommended, it said.  Somebody had highlighted it, and somebody else had smacked a big lipsticked kiss on it, which was definitely not within sanitary guidelines.  Steve stood there like a post, thinking about a hot mouth around his dick, instead of going home to his cold, gray apartment, and yelling weird greetings every morning at his neighbors between balconies, stuff like “You hallucinating yet?  I hear people have been hallucinating!” and “How’re you enjoying solitary?!” 

He thought about being touched by another human being.

He hadn’t really noticed the hole in the wall before, other than kind of wondering why, like, why not make out in the car, even—but COVID changed things.  He bit his lips together, and eased back around to look in the stall again.  It wasn’t that bad, even if the people doing graffiti couldn’t spell.  It was tidy, and there was plenty of toilet paper, so at least the staff were in here regularly, he thought.  The floor wasn’t sticky, or anything.  He leaned to look through the hole, and saw a flash of pink skin, as he heard a scrambling in the next stall.

After a second, the person knocked on the stall wall.  “You stick your cock through there and I’ll suck it,” he said, his voice a little wobbly, like he knew exactly how bizarre this was, and he was trying not to laugh.  

Steve bit back a laugh of his own, snorting into his hand.  “Jesus, I’m not even drunk,” he told the voice, who laughed outright.  

“It’s my fucking lunch hour.  You gonna feed me?”

Steve raised his eyebrows, patting the condom he always, optimistically, carried in his back pocket.  “Now I kinda don’t want to,” he said, and the other guy laughed harder.  “Okay,” Steve said, steeling himself.  “I’m going for it.  Gonna put my cock in this creepy hole.  Don’t bite it off.”  He heard a snort as he checked the expiration date on the condom—he hadn’t had sex in eons, it felt like, and he half-expected to see it had expired in 1492—but it wasn’t even gonna expire soon, so he took it as a positive omen.  

“The hell are you doing, hurry up,” said the other man, shuffling his feet, and Steve rolled his eyes, and the condom onto his dick.

“Sure hope nothing over there’s hungry,” he muttered, taking a deep breath before he stuck his dick in the hole in a bathroom stall, stone cold sober, before noon.  “Hungry for a dick meal.  Ready to bite.”

“I might,” the other guy breathed, laughing, but Steve could feel him brush his lips along the side.  “Mmm, polyisoprene,” he mumbled.

“Suck enough dick you recognize condoms?” Steve asked, snorting a laugh, and felt him laugh along.

“You want an expert, don’cha,” he shot back, taking Steve’s cock on his tongue, and Steve groaned, his body thudding hard against the wall.  It creaked, loud, and the guy pulled off again, laughing.  

“I do,” Steve told him.  “I do, I do, I want an expert, come back, dick-monster.”

“I’m not gonna bite off your dick,” said the guy, snickering again.  

“I don’t even care,” Steve said honestly, “—just lemme come first, jesus—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, slipping Steve’s cock between his lips again, and in, deep down his throat where his muscles clenched around it.  Steve could hear him choking with gusto, and he just leaned against the wall, feeling the first human touch he’d had in months.  

He’d given the pizza guy a tip, ages ago, it seemed like, and the guy’s hand had brushed his, and they’d both stood there, staring at their hands, like maybe Steve oughtta propose marriage, and the guy like maybe he was gonna accept.  They’d said goodbye awkwardly, whipping the hand sanitizer out of their pockets as they turned away, and now Steve couldn’t order pizza without his neck feeling warm.  

The guy eating his dick for lunch was so much better, and Steve longed to touch him, and tip him back in a pile of pillows in the warm afternoon sun.  Take the man back to his bed, bury his hands in warm hair—pull him up the bed and kiss him, maybe—feel the weight of another person on his body.  He clenched his hands on the top of the stall wall, grunting as the hot tongue stroked the bottom of his dick, and the tip pushed against the spongy back of the guy’s throat.  

Steve wasn’t good at talking, really, particularly not when all his attention was on his dick, but he couldn’t grab the man, so he tried.  “God, you’re good at this,” he whispered, his mouth fumbling the words a little, but he thought the idea came through.  “Jesus, you’re amazing.  Christ.  God, your mouth.  I bet you’re beautiful, holy shit,” he rambled.  “Even if you’re not beautiful, you’re beautiful, holy crap, I wanna kiss you.”  

The guy pulled back a couple times, then all the way off, coughing and trying to breathe.  “Sorry,” he gasped, clearing his throat.  “Sorry—”

“Take your time, buddy,” Steve told him, feeling like his whole body was a bomb on a timer ticking down, but also like he wanted to draw it out, maybe, a little.  “Shit,” he panted, mumbling like a moron, now he’d started.  “You’re the best dick-eating monster ever, you’re like, better than the ones on Sesame Street,” he told the dude, sincerely, and heard him burst out laughing again.  

“You want a blow job or what,” he gasped, sounding like he was crying.  “Stop making me laugh, christ.  There aren’t dick-eating monsters on Sesame Street.”

“...oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Steve realized breathlessly, nodding.  The stall wall was cool against his sweaty skin.  “You’re smart, huh.”

“Jesus,” the guy breathed, and then Steve felt his mouth again, and his hips spasmed against the glory hole.  He made a guttural noise as he came, intending half a warning, half a compliment, but the guy just waited as he went still, and then pulled back, panting.  

“Fuck,” Steve whispered, coming down, his heart pounding half out of his chest.  “God, that was good.”

“I am an expert,” the dude said—hoarsely, probably because he’d let Steve fuck his throat for minutes on end.

“Yeah, you are,” Steve agreed, sitting down on the toilet edge.  “Damn.  Gimme a sec—wait, you got another condom?  I only had one.”

“...it’s fine,” the guy laughed.  “I’m a dick monster, remember, s’enough for me.”

“Next time,” Steve said, impulsively, and heard a thump on the other side of the wall.  

“...you, uh,” the guy said, and trailed off, as Steve checked his phone, and grimaced.  

“I gotta go,” he said, over the guy asking something kinda quietly on the other side.  “Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go ahead,” he laughed, and Steve frowned at the wall.

“...I have this Zoom meeting,” he said, grimacing.

“Same bat-time, same bat-channel?” the guy asked, and Steve laughed.

“This your usual break?”

“Yeah.  I’ll have you for lunch anytime,” the guys said, and Steve sighed, flattening his hand against the wall, and wishing he could touch.  

“Jesus, what’d I do right to get a day like today,” he said, and the dick-monster snickered.

“Better run, dude.”

“Yes, thanks,” Steve told him, yanking his zipper shut, and his mask back over his ears.  “Thanks, man, I haven’t touched anybody in like.  A year.  You’re a goddamn saint.”

“Saint monster,” he said, as Steve left.

 Steve had to pick up his dry-cleaning two days later, and it occurred to him he really should’ve gotten the guy’s number, or at least asked what days he had off.  He slid into the bathroom, touched his back pocket again, and felt the two condoms.  He cleared his throat, grimacing, because it seemed creepy as hell to drop and stare through the glory hole.  

After a couple minutes, he heard the door open and a flurry of footsteps, and then a thud at the stall wall as he dropped to his knees.  “I’m here,” his benefactor said, breathless.  

“Okay,” Steve said, pulling a condom out, and trying to find the spot to tear it open.

“Don’t sound all fucking excited to see me,” the guy said, his voice flat, suddenly.  “I know I’m just some—”

“No, no, hey,” Steve said, addressing the knees he could see under the wall of the stall.  “I was trying to get the damn condom open.  Your turn, right?”

“...you wanna suck me off?” the guy asked, slowly.  “You don’t gotta.  I’m an absolute whore for praise, seriously, just keep telling me how good I’m doing—”

“...I mean, I can do that,” Steve said, wishing he could see the dude’s face, instead of trying to gauge the meaning of every pause in his sentences.  “But I can suck you off, first.”

“...what a gentleman,” he said, laughing, and then Steve heard him unzip.  

 The sight of someone else’s skin, even through a glory hole, made Steve’s mouth water like he was a gotdamn cannibalistic psychopath.  He wished desperately that he could just touch, without the plastic barrier.  He pinched the end of the condom and held it against the end of the guy’s already-hard cock, pushing the ring up and over hot skin, and he knelt to try and breathe in the smell of another human.  

The guy smelled a little sweaty, and a bit like soap, and Steve’s hands actually shook as he resisted reaching through and scratching his nails through the bed of curls around the base of the cock in his hands.  Even through plastic, the dude’s dick was satisfyingly heavy, warm, and alive, and he kissed it as soon as he’d gotten enough of the condom on.  The guy grunted, thumping against the creaky stall wall like Steve had done, and they both laughed.

“You know the best part of bathroom sex,” the guy panted, the tip of the condom already filling as he leaked, “—it’s the acoustics, right, I sound like a whole-ass porno in here.”

“That’s not the best part,” Steve told him, swallowing, and then swallowing again, because he didn’t know touching someone, even through plastic, could make him want to crawl under the wall of a bathroom stall if it meant he could touch them more.  He never thought he’d be so happy to see a dick.  “God, you feel good.”  

“...I am good,” the guy whispered, barely audible in the weird, loud bathroom acoustics with the fan going, and Steve laughed, kissing his cock again.  It jerked in his hand.

“You are good,” he breathed against it, and the dude bit back a groan.  “You’re perfect,” Steve said, following a hunch, and felt the guy thump his hips against the wall between them again.  

Steve grinned, bending down to swirl his tongue around the tip, and he saw the dude’s hands grip the upper edge of the stall, his knuckles whitening.  The little hexagonal tiles dug into Steve’s knees, a bit, but he didn’t mind.  He felt himself getting hard, and unzipped his pants, absently freeing his dick with a sigh of relief.

 Steve had always liked sucking cock.  He’d wondered whether it would be any fun, though, without the feeling of hips under his hands, or fingers in his hair—but he could see the guy’s shoes shifting, and feel the soft thumps against the stall as he forgot everything except Steve’s mouth around him.  Steve could look up and see his grip straining on the stall wall, and smell him, the laundry and sweat and cologne smell of him—and hear him, louder than Steve, grunting streams of “Fuck, fuck, jesus, fuck,” and “God, don’t slow down, you asshole,” and “Oh shit, do that again, please, please, please…” trailing off into begging, panting gibberish.

When he came, he staggered back and thudded down onto the toilet seat with a clatter.  “Just—just gimme a minute,” he panted, as Steve grabbed toilet paper, and wiped the spit off his face and chin.  

“Take your time,” he said, and the toilet seat squeaked as the guy cleared his throat.  

“Yeah, yeah, shit, sorry, fuck.  Lemme just get down there, asshole—”

“No, I mean it,” Steve said, sitting down himself, and giving his dick a squeeze.  He let his eyes fall shut at the relief.  “Take as long as you want, I don’t have a meeting or anything.”

“...shit,” the guy breathed.  “Yeah.”

“...wanna give me your number?” Steve asked, trying to distract himself from the thought of the dude’s mouth, of pushing into the heat of another human being.

“Shit, yes,” the guy blurted.  “Yeah, yes, please.”  He recited it, and Steve put it in his phone, taking care his extreme horniness didn’t make his hand shake and drop his phone in the toilet.  

“I’m saving you as ‘beautiful dick guy’,” he said, and Beautiful Dick Guy laughed.  

“Text me, so I know you’ve got it,” he said, and Steve did, before tucking his phone safely away.

“What are you saving me as?” Steve asked.  “Best blowjob ever?  Nice Mouth Dude?”

“Surprised you didn’t save me as ‘Dick Monster’,” the guy muttered, and Steve snorted a laugh, as he slid the other condom on.

“Well, you haven’t bitten it off yet.”

“I’m not gonna bite it off!” he laughed.

“You might,” Steve told him, patting the wall, because he wanted to touch something.  “I mean—”

“Get your cock in my mouth, jesus,” the dude said, and Steve stood, and pressed his cock through the glory hole to the guy’s lips with a grunt of relief.  

“Jesus,” he whispered.  “Thank you, god.  Thank you.”

Beautiful Dick Guy pulled off, and Steve bit back a groan of protest.  “Stop making it sound like I’m donating to charity,” he growled, before sinking Steve’s cock between his lips again, and swallowing around it.

“Dunno what you wanna hear,” Steve muttered.  “God, you’re good at this.”  The mouth around his dick hummed approvingly, and Steve nearly came at the vibration, moaning.  “You’re perfect, you’re amazing,” he mumbled, on autopilot.  “Jesus, you’re a fucking gift, you’re the best thing that ever happened to my cock, I swear, you’re a goddamn miracle, you’re a natural disater on my dick—”

The dude started laughing again, choking and coughing, and Steve grabbed the top of the stall, wishing it wouldn’t be weird and unsafe to just climb on the toilet and lean over to kiss him like the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet—or better yet, open the door and walk into the other stall, and dip him like the end of a tango.  Steve mumbled some version of all that, and the guy cackled harder.  “Sorry,” he wheezed.  “Sorry, sorry.”

“No hurry, man,” Steve told him, taking a deep breath.  “Can’t...rush art, right.”

“Jesus,” the dude snorted, coughing again, and Steve cocked his head, trying to think around all the blood pounding in his dick.  

“...other people must tell you you’re good at this,” he said, “—like, all the time,” and everything was quiet for a long second.  

“...yeah,” the guy finally said, sounding a little bitter.  “Everybody’s super polite and respectful, when you suck them off in a toilet.”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing, and squirming, a little, at the memory of how the dude’s voice felt against his dick.  “Well.  Um.  Would it be weird if I texted you?  Like.  I can’t ask you out.”

“...you wanna ask me out?” the guy asked, laughing.

“I can’t, there’s—there’s nowhere we can go,” Steve said, wondering whether it’d be rude to pull his cock back through, and jerk off, if it was just gonna sit there untouched.  “We could, um, we could like...wave at each other in the park, but it’s cold.”

“You’d date me?” came his voice again.  “You haven’t even asked my name yet.”

“Steve,” Steve said quickly.  “And you are?”

“...Billy,” Billy said, and just as Steve was distracted, thinking about what kinda shitheel would fuck a guy’s mouth and not ask his name, the heat of Billy’s mouth sank over his cock again, and Steve just tried to keep his mouth moving, mumbling how fantastic Billy had to be.

 Billy left first, while Steve took stock of the brain cells he’d lost through his dick.  Thanks so much, he texted.  Sorry I can’t kiss you.  

what, arrived back, almost instantly.

I mean, Steve sent, and then stared at the screen, trying to figure out what he meant.  I love listening to you laugh

I want to kiss your face while you laugh 

wrap around you when you shiver

leave hickies all over your body

hold you when you’re all fucked out

wake you up with my mouth on your cock

my hands holding your thighs

 dont do this to me at work, Billy sent back, and Steve hunched his shoulders, grimacing, but then his phone buzzed again.  i’ll die i’m fucking dying holy shit god yes kiss me hold me down 

I can come back next week, Steve sent, grinning.

fuck you, Billy sent back.  you know how many actual hours that is 

why you gonna make me wait that long

asshole

Steve laughed, grinning at his screen.  

 When he left, he took a long look at the bar, and a dude with light brown curls, thick, dark brows, and amazing gray-blue eyes watched him.  It was hard to tell his expression through the mask, but Steve was pretty sure it was a grin.  

later, beautiful cock monster, he sent, and he heard the familiar snorted laugh.

fuck you, his phone told him.  

 The next morning, he sent g’morning, beautiful, and hope you’re having a lunch as amazing as you are, and kiss emoticons, and Billy sent back eggplants and staring eyes and suggested Steve come by the bar twice a day.

 He learned over the next few weeks that Billy could get nearly any conversation back around to sucking Steve’s cock, and it made it kinda...hard to talk to him, honestly, when Steve wanted to put him on speaker over lunch, or watch a movie.  He had more phone sex than he’d had in ever, but Billy kinda sounded like he was taking his cues from a phone sex hotline, and that...wasn’t quite what Steve had been...longing for.  

“I watched some Sesame Street clips with this kid I know on Zoom,” Steve told him.  “Looked for you.  You live near, like, Bert and Ernie?  Is that the queer community there?”

“Were you thinking about my dick?” Billy asked, snickering, and Steve hadn’t been, really, he’d been thinking about Billy’s laugh.  “My mouth misses you more, though,” Billy whispered, “—misses your heat, man, misses stretching around you—” and Steve was half-hard in his jeans, again, and too tired to do anything about it.  

“I gotta go,” he sighed, and Billy was silent at the other end.  It felt less like dating, and more like watching the same porn over and over.  

 When Billy called just as Steve was settling in with warm pajamas, popcorn, beer, and a good K-drama, about to find out who the mother-in-law’s secret son’s girlfriend actually was, Billy called, already panting.  Steve couldn’t help thinking I just got you off after lunch.  

“I’m kinda busy,” he said, pausing the show.

“Aren’t you off?” Billy asked, after a pause.  “You’re off, right?”

“...yeah, I just have...stuff,” Steve said, grimacing.  

Billy was quiet for long enough that Steve glared off into space, because his popcorn was getting cold.  “...maybe in an hour?” Billy offered.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Steve said, “—or later this week.”

“...yeah, okay, you call me,” Billy said, and hung up.  

Steve shook his head, sighing, and clicked his show back on, watching with big eyes as he tried to figure out the complicated relationships.  He didn’t remember to text Billy that night—and he didn’t hear anything back, either, so he didn’t worry about it, too much.  It was kinda nice, honestly, not getting a phone call at seven am from a guy Steve barely knew telling him what to do with his huge, meaty cock.  Somehow, formulaic sex hotline talk didn’t help him feel any less lonely.

 By the end of the week, he was kinda dreading calling Billy at all, so he called Robin instead.  

“He’s too horny,” she said slowly.  “Steve, everybody’s horny.  We’ve all been in solitary for a year.  I would probably eat out a fire hydrant to feel some juices on my face, okay, go easy on this guy.”

“It’s not...ugh,” Steve sighed, rubbing his face.  “It’s like talking to one of those viagra emails, okay?  Like, why even talk to a real person, if he’s just gonna…like, I get him off, but he won’t talk about anything else, I don’t know if he’s ever seen a movie—”

“...he’s boring, it sounds like,” she sighed.  “That sucks, man.”

“He is,” Steve groaned.  “I feel like I’m talking to a budget sex line operator.  He cuts me off whenever I even mention work, or like, anything—”

“...sounds like he might think you’re boring too, buddy,” she said, with her trademark blend of cynical sympathy.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed.

“Better wrap it up,” she said, and he nodded, grimacing.

 hey, he texted.  I don’t think this is gonna work out.

 Billy called an hour later, and Steve sighed, but swiped to answer, and said “Hello?”

“God,” Billy whispered.  “I thought you might’ve already blocked me.”

“Haven’t yet,” Steve said, drumming his fingers on his tabletop, and waiting.

“‘Yet’.  Okay,” Billy said, laughing.  It sounded a little—pissed, maybe, and Steve braced himself, listening to Billy’s soft breaths.  It sounded like he was walking somewhere.  “Is—is there anything—any way I could get another chance,” he panted, and then it went silent, like he was holding his breath.

Why, Steve wondered, frowning.  He bit his lips, thinking.

“If there’s anything you want from me, just tell me,” Billy said, sounding a little less steady.  “Or shit, if—if you don’t want something, just—just tell me what you want, I don’t—”

“It’s not you, it’s m—” Steve tried, making a face, and Billy cut him off, laughing, but sniffling.

“No.  No, don’t give me that, it’s definitely me, I can tell, okay.  You wanted me and then talking to me was a fucking chore, what—come on,” he whispered, his voice cracking.  “You said you wanted to hold me, don’t—”

I was lonely, Steve thought of saying, and winced.  I can’t make myself like you.  

“Don’t make me get a job on Sesame Street,” Billy said hoarsely, laughing.  “I don’t think they actually have openings for Dick Monsters,” and there he was, the guy Steve had listened to giggling, the man he had liked.  

He took a deep breath, thinking.  

“...okay, yeah,” Billy said, clearing his throat.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  “Fuck.”

At least, Steve thought, feeling his face heat, he could tell Billy hadn’t been bored.  “...you...wanna try again,” he said, cautiously, and Billy made a weird noise like he was slurping up nothing through a wet straw.

“Yes.  Yes,” he whispered.  “Yeah, is that—is that even—”

“Okay,” Steve told him, and felt indescribably guilty listening to his boyfriend burst into tears.  

“Fuck, okay, tell me—tell me what you want,” he gulped.  “I don’t wanna piss you off again, tell me—”

“You didn’t piss me off,” Steve told him, and Billy swallowed hard.  

“Okay,” he said again.  “What—why—”

“...you’re like talking to a SPAM email,” Steve finally said, brutally honest.  “Like, every time I try to talk to you—”

“What?!” Billy asked, laughing, a little bitterly.

“I try to tell you what I’m having for lunch or something, and all of a sudden you’re all ‘biggest HUGE cock, daddy’,” Steve groaned.  “Like...if I’m that boring, d’you even want to date me?”

“...should I just call less,” Billy asked.  “I know I was calling too much, I was trying to just—just wait for you to call me, just call sometimes—”

“You’re not listening,” Steve said, sighing.

“No, I am, I swear!” Billy yelped.  “I’m listening, you don’t want me trying to keep you on the line, I’ll stop.  I’ll—when you’re done I’ll just hang up, I swear, I’m listening, I am—”

“I’m not...trying to get you to hang up,” Steve said slowly.  “I’m—I’m just telling you stuff?  I just—I’ve got a life, y’know, I thought maybe—you’d wanna know me.”

“I thought you were fucking bored,” Billy yelled, then, fuzzier, “—no, sorry, sorry—” before the phone was back to his ear.  “Every time I’d get you on the phone you’re like ‘So anyway, lots to do today—’”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing.  

“You always sounded bored.  You’re always bored, with me,” Billy said, laughing.  “Shit, I knew this was coming, don’t—don’t date me just because I begged, christ.”

“It’s not even really dating,” Steve sighed, wondering if he’d have noticed Billy’s tension earlier, across a table from him.

“...yeah, not—not really,” Billy agreed, then, more quietly.  “We’re just talking, sometimes.”

“Want to go for a walk,” Steve asked, and Billy held his breath again, then blew it out with a soft sigh.

“...not if you’re dumping me,” he said, and Steve sat up straighter.  

“No!  No, just—I wanna see you.  I didn’t even wanna dump you, I thought you were fucking bored, man.”

“...okay,” Billy said, sounding like he might be smiling, finally, and when Steve arrived at the park, there he was, texting.

Steve’s phone buzzed as he approached—sure enough, it was the guy he’d seen at the bar, with dark eyebrows and pretty gray-blue eyes over his mask.

dont make me wait, dickhead, it said.

“I’m here,” Steve called, and Billy looked up, and grinned with his eyes.  “Shit,” Steve said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Billy’s smile dropped.  He searched Steve’s face.  “I just wanna hug you,” Steve admitted, staying six feet away.  “You look cute.”

Billy laughed, his eyes crinkling, and Steve wriggled his hands in his pockets, groaning melodramatically.  

“Tell me something about you,” Steve told him.  “Uh, not about your cock.”

“...um,” Billy said, kicking a pinecone along the path.  “Huh.  I got a little sister.  Max.  She’s home now, but she’ll head back to college.  When they reopen.”

“This is the kinda shit I should know when we’ve been dating for nearly a month, and we talk every goddamn day,” Steve growled, hunching his shoulders.  

“Well, truly fucking sorry,” Billy said, glancing over.  “The only part of me I knew you liked was my dick, so—”

“No, I’m not—I should’ve asked,” Steve said, swivelling, and waving his hands in the air as another horrifying thought occurred to him.  “What’s your last name, Billy?!”

“Hargrove,” Billy said, grinning at him.  

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, shaking his head, and walked on.  He grabbed his phone, and changed his boyfriend’s contact info to include his actual name, feeling like a dipshit.

 When they decided, shivering, to head home, Steve turned around to watch Billy walk away, and caught him doing the same thing.  

I really like you, Steve texted.  sorry you didn’t know.

Billy turned on his heel and blew Steve a kiss, and Steve jumped and pretended to catch it like a fly ball, before holding it cupped in his hands.  

nerd, Billy sent.

your nerd, Steve sent back, triumphantly, with two thumbs up across the park at Billy, who started laughing so hard again he had to lean on his knees.

 He found Billy Hargrove on Instagram, and Twitter, and scrolled through photos of a really unfairly hot man as he sat in his car, his eyebrows raised.  There were photos of Steve’s texts, with loads of comments and hearts, and Steve found himself grimly going through posts where he’d texted and Billy’d posted the screenshot, and then video of him screaming into a pillow, or things Steve had said with two pages of comments and analysis.  

‘I think you could do better than somebody who doesn’t like you very much’ caught his eye, and he bit his lips together.  

Good thing it’s not up to you, Billy had replied, and Steve nodded, glaring at the username, MadMax666.  

I like him a lot, Steve typed, but that didn’t seem like enough, so he deleted it.  ‘I like him more than anyone else does’ was worse, and he grimaced, deleting that one. I know he’s amazing, he put, finally, and got back a Who is this?? from Billy’s logon.

The dumb boyfriend, Steve told him, and then everything exploded with heart emoticons, and Steve just called him, grinning.  “Hey, Billy,” he said, and Billy laughed.  

“Hey, Steve,” he said back, softly, and Steve talked him off the way they had at first, in the bathroom at Billy’s work, telling Billy he was amazing and perfect and good.  

 The next time Steve went by the bar, he called first, and Billy laughed breathlessly when he said he was coming by.

“Advance notice,” he said.  “Almost like a date, huh?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice a little sooner,” Steve admitted, and got a short pause before a hissed “Oh my god.”  Steve laughed.

“Maybe something special, then,” Billy whispered, and when Steve got there, instead of seeing Billy’s knees as he dropped to the floor instantly, Billy’s hands were curled over the wall of the stall.  “...just shove on in,” he said, and Steve realized that, bizarrely, he was about to have actual penetrative sex with someone he’d never touched.  

He unzipped his pants, and rolled a condom on, as Billy said “I know this isn’t what you want.  From dating.  I—I thought maybe—”

Steve dropped his already-dripping dick to slide his fingers over Billy’s, on the wall of the stall, and hear his voice hitch and shudder.  “You’re perfect, babe.  You’re enough.”

“...love you,” Billy whispered, maybe.

“What?!” Steve asked, startled, and Billy said “Nothing, nothing.”

 Billy didn’t seem to know Steve had found his Twitter too, and all discussion of Steve floated over there, which would have made him feel creepy about reading it, except it was invariably something that just meant Steve needed to call and cheer him up, that he wouldn’t have known if he wasn’t eavesdropping.  

What are you gonna do in that huge apartment all by yourself, somebody asked Billy, in the spring, and Steve’s heartbeat a little faster scrolling back to see Billy’s boyfriend had moved out months before, and his little sister was going back to college.  

Want to move in with me? he typed, and reconsidered, staring at it instead of hitting send.  He counted the months he’d known Billy on his fingers, grimacing.  

Can’t pay the rent here with reduced hours, can’t get the deposit to move, popped up on Billy’s Twitter, and Steve glowered at it, then called.

“Move in with me,” he said, when Billy answered.

“...what?” Billy breathed.

“Move in with me,” Steve said again.  “You’re alone, right?  Come live with me.”

“...is there room?” Billy asked, sounding bewildered.  “For me?”

“There’s a little room I use as my office,” Steve said, making a face.  “I, uh, I kinda thought you wouldn’t be using it, though.”

“You want me to live with you?” Billy asked again, like his brain was skipping, and Steve laughed.  

“Yeah, dick-monster, I do.”

“...you’ve never even seen my face,” Billy muttered, and Steve laughed.

“Is it my fault you’re so fucking tired of Zoom?”

“That doesn’t count,” Billy huffed.

“I’m vaccinated,” Steve told him.  “I’ve been quarantining.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Billy said dourly.  “I’m crawling out of my skin over here.”

“It’s safe as it can be.  D’you want to?”

“Of course I—we’ve never even had the exclusive conversation,” Billy groaned.  “Are we?!”

“COVID makes shit weird,” Steve sighed.  “I figured you were it for me, yeah.”

“I have never touched your flesh,” Billy moaned, like a serial killer, and Steve snorted.

“Calm down, carnivore,” he said,  “—you want help moving?”

“Yes,” Billy sighed.  “Yeah.  Gimme a couple days—”

“Days?!” Steve asked, startled, and Billy was quiet on the other end.  “Days are fine!” Steve corrected.  “Days are good!”

“Okay,” Billy said, laughing softly.  “Days.”

 As soon as the furniture and boxes were piled in Steve’s front room, he sidled over to Billy, who was leaning against the counter panting, his eyes closed.  Billy’s jacket was open, from the heat of hauling boxes up the stairs, and Steve ran his fingers down Billy’s neck, and then yanked him close into a hug, feeling the warmth and bulk of him breathing.

“Oof,” Billy whispered, but he relaxed into it with a sigh, leaning his whole weight against Steve.

Steve breathed him in, realizing he felt weak, a little, with the need to squeeze Billy as hard as he could.  “Hi,” he whispered.

“Mmmn,” he said, contentedly.

 Steve hauled him back to the bed, stripping him down on the way.  He wouldn’t quit squirming, and Steve rubbed stubble all over his neck, making him yell.  They nearly tripped, because neither of them wanted to pull back enough to look down, but they made it to Steve’s bed.  Steve pushed him back, and then crouched over him.  

Steve unhooked the mask from his own ears, and ran his fingers up Billy’s arm to his head to untie his.  “Feel like I’m lifting your veil,” Steve told him.

Billy kept his eyes shut, smiling as Steve lifted his mask.  He was pretty, prettier than his pictures, square-jawed and mustached, and Steve ran his fingers over his boyfriend’s cheek for the first time, just exploring.  He tweaked the one dangling earring, and brushed his thumb over Billy’s lips, and Billy bit back a moan, turning his head in Steve’s hands to kiss his fingers.

“...y’know I’m never gonna stop touching you,” Steve whispered, and Billy laughed, his long lashes brushing his freckled cheeks.  “...you’re perfect.”

“Mmmn,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully.

“You’d be perfect if you had a smashed nose like a cauliflower, and nine-hundred eyes like a fly,” Steve told him, honestly, and Billy burst out laughing.  

“Not much of a compliment, then,” he pointed out, opening his eyes and grinning at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help touching his grin, feeling where his cheeks bunched as he smiled.  

It felt so good to touch someone.  

“...god,” he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips over Billy’s smile.  "May I kiss the bride?" 

Billy laughed against his lips, hot and human.  

My other Harringrove April prompts are here!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

When the Weight Comes Down - 2

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: Alright, I’ll spoil my boos and my bees. Hope you enjoy part two; it’s probably my fave chapter tbh honest. So fun to write! Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Two: Ultra Mundane

Feel the ultra mundane Of another life A poet in the service

💀💀

You liked opening shifts, especially as the days got warmer. Spring wore on with as many sunny days as rainy days. That morning, you woke to a thick fog and the threat of rain floated in the air. You pulled on the crinkly raincoat and headed out. You were still yawning from the hectic night; you hadn’t gotten much sleep as your mind flitted back to the bar; the man and his intent blue eyes.

You unlocked the door, certain to turn the latch behind you. You had an hour to get everything in the oven and push yesterday’s remnants to the front of the display. You hung your coat in the back room and pulled on your apron and hairnet. Babs would be in at noon but the high school girl, Marcia, was due at opening.

The spatter of rain tapped on the window as you started your opening routine. It was peaceful. Despite your innate shyness, it was one of the few times you were completely alone. No customers, no neurotic mother, no drunken father, just you and the ovens.

That day’s special was cinnamon buns. They’d be placed in the cover glass platter just beside the till with a little card you’d made yourself. Uneven roses along thorny vines bordered the edge and displayed the one-day price. 

The buns were cool enough for you to start icing as you flipped the sign to open and let Marcia in. You went about your task as Marcia stood at the till. She was part-time; only worked on the weekends. She was bubbly and giggly. She told you stories about her classmates and the drama which seemed fit to a midday soap opera. In a way, you envied her. Well, in all ways, you did.

The Sunday rush began at ten, just after church service. The few tables in the bakery quickly filled as you set out the carafes with coffee and tea. Despite the downpour, the elderly crowd ventured the half-block from the steepled church and waited in line for their treats.

After noon, the flow of customers lulled as it usually did. Babs relieved Marcia of her half-shift and helped you mark down what was left of the older batches to half-off. The tinny bell over the door rang as Babs worked at cleaning pans in the back room. You looked up and your mouth fell open at the startlingly familiar face.

The man, Steve, ducked through the door. His hair was darkened by the rain and little droplets clung to his thick beard. He smoothed back his hair as his eyes glimmered and he smiled at you. You snapped your mouth shut and placed the last loaf of discount bread on the shelf.

“Hello,” You greeted him as you went to the till. “Can I get you something today?”

He neared the other side and his fingers tapped on the counter.

“It’s ugly out there,” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Heh, yeah,” You said awkwardly and ran your thumbs along the aged till. “Our cinnamon buns are on special. Just a few left.”

He tilted his head and leaned on the counter.

“You didn’t forget me already,” He raised his brows.

“No, no, I… remember,” You looked down at the faded numbers.

“How’s your pa?” He asked.

“He’s… fine, I’m sure.” You said quietly. 

“You make it yourself?” He tapped the glass lid of the platter. You nodded.

“It’s Babs’ recipe,” You muttered. “I just put it in the oven.”

“I’ll take it,” He reached for his wallet. “And coffee?”

“I’ll have to put a pot on if you don’t mind the wait,” You said.

“I’m in no rush to go back out,” He assured you as the windows shook at the rising winds outside. “Thunderstorms tonight.”

“Mmhmm,” You punched in his order. “Anything else?”

“Cinnamon raisin bread?” He read the board above the loaves. “Is it any good?”

“If you like sweet stuff,” You looked over at the shelf.

“I love sweet stuff,” He said. “I’ll take a loaf.”

“Sliced?” You asked.

“Please,” He answered and you grabbed him a bag.

You returned to the counter and read out his total. He handed you a bill and your fingers brushed against his palm as he took his change. He dropped it in the tip cup and winked. You bit your cheek and grabbed a plate for his bun. You took it out with the tongs and slid it across to him with a knife and fork. 

He thanked you and you told him to sit and you’d bring him coffee when it was ready. He reluctantly backed away and sat at the table closest to the counter. You turned to load a fresh filter into the machine and scooped the grinds in carefully. You grabbed the little tray of creamers and sugar packets and rounded the counter to bring it to him.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted decaf,” You set it down. “I’m sorry.”

“Regular’s fine,” He leaned back in his chair. “You like working here?”

“Um, sure,” You shrugged and made to turn away. 

“Hey, wait,” He said and glanced around the empty bakery. “What’s the rush? Not very busy in here.”

“Your coffee,” You uttered as the grind of the machine sounded behind you.

“I’m patient,” He assured you. “I just wanna talk.”

“Well, I’m working and I shouldn’t--”

“I’ll take the blame, doll,” He said. “Your ma seems like a nice lady.”

You looked away as you rubbed your arm. You shrugged again.

“What? You don’t think she’s nice?”

“She is…” You picked at your sleeve. “But… she doesn’t like bikers.”

He chuckled and cut into his bun. You tried to walk away again.

“She’s a smart lady then,” He said. “I don’t like them much myself.”

You hovered awkwardly at the other side of his table. He chewed and wiped the corner of his mouth.

“And you? You hate bikers, too?”

“Well, I…” You licked your dry lips and his eyes followed the movement. “I never thought much about it, I guess.”

“What time you done, doll?”

You blinked and frowned. You glanced over at the swinging door to the back room. The clink and clank of pans continued as Babs went about her work.

“Why?” You asked.

“I’ll drive you home,” He said as he looked through the window. “It’s a bit wild out there.”

“No, you really-- I can get home.” You slowly inched away. “But thank you.”

“I got the truck.” He insisted. “ Don’t like taking the bike out much in this weather.”

“Really, I’m okay,” You backed up. “I should get your coffee.”

“What time?” He asked again. 

You stopped at the corner of the counter. You stared at him as he dropped his fork and took a bite out of the bun. He watched you closely.

“Two o’clock,” You peeked at the clock; it was already after one. “But you don’t need to--”

“I’ll take my time then,” He said. “And you take yours, doll.”

💀

You were fifteen minutes over time when Babs finally assured you she could close on her own. You were hoping she’d ask you to stay so you had an excuse to send Steve away. You’d stay even if she didn’t pay. 

The thought of being alone with the man was terrifying. You’d only ever been alone with your father and he barely acknowledged you outside of asking for another beer, berating you, or worse.

You untied your apron and hung it on the hook and took your coat. You pulled it on and grabbed your bag before you pushed through into the cafe. Babs followed but drew you back into the kitchen as she saw Steve standing by the window.

“How long has he been here?” She asked as the door swung back into place.

“Almost an hour,” You said evasively. “He’s leaving now.”

She was silent as she stared at you. Her rosy cheeks paled.

“With you?”

You looked down. She tutted and touched your elbow.

“I tried to say no but… it’s just a ride. He’s being nice.” You squeaked.

“Nice? Those men aren’t nice.” She hissed. “You be careful.”

“He has no reason to hurt me,” You argued.

“No reason? He doesn’t need one.”

“Babs, look at me,” You frowned. “Come on.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” She warned. “He definitely will.”

“I don’t… know what to do,” You said quietly. “To make him go.”

“You call me when you get home,” She drew you into a hug. “Twenty minutes our I’m closing early and coming to find you.”

“You don’t really think--”

“I don’t know what to think, sweets,” She said. “But I know his type are up to no good.”

You hugged your bag and nodded. “I’ll call.”

“Your ma wouldn’t want you hanging ‘round that man,” She tisked.

“I know,” You put your hand on the door. “I’m not too keen on it either.”

You pushed through once more and hesitantly rounded the counter. Steve turned away from his vigil at the window; the rain had slowed but the sky was getting darker. He had his loaf of bread in hand. You kept your bag in your arms as you squeezed it tighter and tighter.

“Sorry, I forgot… to tidy the racks,” You lied. “And my ma will be waiting for me.”

“I’m sure she will,” He went to the door. “Good thing you’re not walking.”

“Thank you, again.” You neared as he opened the door with a dull chime. “You don’t--”

“You act like I’m the first person to do you a favour,” He quipped as you pulled up your hood, your other arm still wrapped around your bag.

“My pa will be in a state too,” You stepped out ahead of him as he zipped up his leather jacket. 

You turned towards your house but he caught your arm. He pulled you back and guided you down to the large truck double-parked in front of Lloyd’s bookshop. It was a lot newer than your father’s and it actually ran. He opened the door as he turned his chin down as the rain slaked over his head and you climbed up quickly.

He closed the door and rushed around the front of the truck. He got in and shoved his keys in the slot as he tossed the bread behind his seat. He turned the engine and let the car idle as he reached into his jacket. He pulled out his phone and wiped the stray droplet off the screen with the thigh of his jeans. He dropped it in the cupholder and shifted gears before he pulled out.

“You work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You answered as you watched the rivulets streaming down the window. The steady beat of the windshield wipers interspersed the patter of rain. 

“You ever get a day off?”

“Wednesdays and Thursdays,” You regretted answering. You should have lied but you were never very good at that.

He slowed at the sign and you felt him looking at you. You were too scared to look back. He slowly hit the gas and you leaned against the door as you clung to your page.

“Wednesday night,” He said. “How about you come down to the bar for a drink?”

You glanced over at him but quickly turned your eyes ahead of you. Your lips parted. You were silent.

“Hey?” He prodded.

“I don’t drink,” You said.

“Jeez, I’m not asking you to pick up a habit, just one drink.” He urged.

“My ma--”

“How old are you?” He asked as he came in sight of your house. “What are we? Couple years apart? You’re an adult. Let your ma enjoy an empty nest for the night.”

You inhaled and sucked your lip in nervously. As he came closer to your house, your stomach flipped.

“I don’t know.” You muttered.

“I’ll be by at nine to get you. Plenty of time to get yourself sorted.” He said.

“I didn’t say yes,” You replied as he stopped behind your father’s busted Ford.

His eyes flashed as he turned to you and you looked back shyly.

“Wednesday. Nine.” He stated as his arm stretched between your seats, his hand on your headrest. “Tell your ma I’ll have you home by midnight. She doesn’t need to worry so much.”

Your lashes fluttered and you bent your head. You stared at the wet spots on your canvas bag. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. His hand fell to your shoulder to stop you.

“Wait,” He grabbed his phone. “You’re number?”

“I don’t--” You stared at his cell and pursed your lips. “I don’t have a cell phone. I can give you my house number.”

“No phone?” He repeated. “No, it’s okay.” He fixed the string of your raincoat. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

You pulled the handle and tumbled out onto your feet. The mud squelched around your shoes. You should’ve worn your boots but you had only the sense to bring your coat. You didn’t look back as you closed the door and rushed up to your porch. The curtains along the front room moved as you opened the screen door. The tires squelched behind you and you rushed inside. Your mother greeted you from the living room doorway.

“I told you not to talk to that man,” She said.

“Ma,” You hung your bag and undid your coat. “I tried. Okay? I’m tired. I worked--”

“And I’ve been cleaning this mess all day,” She huffed. “Your pa made a hell of a mess when he finally woke up.”

“Ma, please,” You kicked your shoes off. “Just-- I just got home.”

“I don’t want him around here,” She crossed her arms.

You dragged your feet down the hall and stopped in front of her. 

“Neither do I,” You said. “Maybe next time, you can try telling him.”

You turned and went to your room. You closed yourself in and felt your heart racing. Wednesday wasn’t very far at all. Three days. Barely a wink in a small town like this.

[an-introverts-clubhouse]

Wanna write a mysteries where each book has its own aesthetic. Like:

*dark academia*

- imagine you're attending an old boarding school, where success is hard to earn

- murder, by poison, an "accident", or by an old fashioned stabbing

- theft, a disappearance, or a ghost

- elegant, carefully manicured gardens with a entrance to the school hidden in the bushes

- a library with hidden notes in the books, underlined clues in the pages, and secret passages behind the shelves.

- old greenhouse with marble benches and something hidden in the water

- archways and open to the weather hallways or massive windows that let in gray, muted sunlight. Long, dramatic staircases and smaller, worn spiral staircases.

- wardrobes that consist of uniforms, but also plaid, sweaters, skirts, high waisted pants, belts, blouses, flats, loafers, big coats, etc.

- students with neat hair and crisp uniforms or very unruly hair and loose ties, some overlapping into both.

- the professors could help you, but if you tell the wrong one, they could hinder you just as easily.

- an empty ballroom finally being put to use after many years. Shenanigans ensue.

- a long lost diary and old photographs that unlock a piece of the puzzle

- studying late at night, alone or with someone else

- jumping at eerie noises, then the next time they're heard, going to investigate

- rainy days during fall or light snow during winter

- misc: pianos, violins, cellos, marble busts, old artwork

- fellow student love interest ideas:

+ a student in your classes. Helps you put the pieces together and knows things he shouldn't. Would break any rule to help you.

+ the librarian assistant. Concerned for you, but wants this mystery solved just as much as you do. Willing to help to a certain degree, but when you begin putting yourself in harm's way, he'll go to great measures to keep you safe (not in a creepy way).

+ a student a year older. Has knowledge gained over the past year that you need and will give it to you, if you let him help. You are partners, but can you get along?

+ a rival student. He's trying to solve the mystery just like you, but he's not willing to help you in any way- in fact, he actively sabotages you and himself in the process. You keep stumbling across each other, though, and his walls are breaking down.

- an ominous promise between two students, overheard from the hallway.

- being average, good students until there's something important happening and then breaking every rule in their way.

- walking down the hallway filled with other students, their chatter bouncing off the archways on the way to class.

- walking down the same hallway after hours, the moonlight illuminating your steps. There's a shadow moving fast ahead of you.

- a group of students banding together to solve the mystery.

- finding a threatening anonymous note.

- balancing schoolwork with solving the mystery

- whispered rumors

*modern art museum*

- a famous art work has been stolen or is threatening to be destroyed or something of that sort

- surrounding the exhibit is a series of nice, tidy gardens.

- it takes place solely at night.

- there are lots of colored lights and things

- walking down the garden path late at night, when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You aren't alone.

- watching the security footage, when it flickers once and then there's someone there

- hiding behind sculptures as someone walks through. Don't get caught.

- finding out there's a safe behind the painting next to the stolen one.

- posing as a guest during the evening openings to try to find suspects

- love interest ideas:

+ the gallery owner's assistant. This is his first real start at this stuff and he really doesn't want it to be ruined, by a theft or by him being accused! He's willing to help you as best he can.

+ the head of security. Been doing this for two years, but this is the first real threat he's dealt with. He needs your help, and now you two are a team.

+ a witness that saw a key clue. He's roped into this mystery just like you are, and now he's your partner in figuring it out.

+ the artist of the stolen artwork. Outraged at the loss of his masterpiece, he helps you from the shadows, not wanting to draw attention to your sleuthing.

- it's the night of the premiere- you have to catch the thief now!

I might add on later bc I think a cyberpunk mystery would be cool too...

ANYWAY-