#//i need this on my blog its too perfect sniff

[rootedincuteness]

Going out of your way to take pictures of your silly art doll with a distressed animal is kinda fucked! You seriously saw an animal in a trap, probably scared shitless, hungry, and dehydrated, and thought to yourself, "Oh! This is a perfect opportunity to take a photo with my toy that I roleplay with on tumblr!"

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Thanks for your concern about the groundhog, but I can assure you, they're fine. Let me explain a little more in-depth about my trapping process to hopefully put your mind at ease. We are up very late at night and don't set the trap until well after dark so that no animals will be left sitting in the hot sun. We place the trap in a shaded, cool area in case the sun rises before we get to it, but we check it first thing in the morning so that the animal is not sitting there for very long. We put a very large helping of food in our traps, specifically so that the animal will get a good meal and not be hungry for a while. Once we see that we've caught something, we offer the animal an additional snack and water just in case it is a little hungry or thirsty, and then we take it immediately to be released elsewhere.

With this particular groundhog, all the food in the trap was gone, so it had a nice meal of apples and peanut butter within the past few hours. It was not interested in the water and only nibbled a little bit on the additional food we offered it. If it was starving or dehydrated, it definitely would have eagerly taken advantage of the offerings. As far as it being scared, the pictures show it huddled in the corner of the trap because that's when I could get a good view of its face because it had stopped moving, but it was actually coming over to sniff at the plushie rather curiously. It wouldn't do that if it was terrified of it. Also, groundhogs will growl and bear their teeth when they are very scared, and this one did none of that.

I am an animal lover too, and take great care to make sure the animals I trap are not stressed out any more than they need to be. Trapping them actually helps move them to a safer area. Right now, groundhogs and other local wildlife are breeding out of control in my area and are overrunning residential areas locally because of a woodland and a creek that were recently destroyed to make room for more houses. As a result, many animals are displaced and making homes where they should not be. Because of this, they are being hit by cars and left for dead by numerous outdoor pet cats we have in the area on an almost daily basis. It's very sad, but moving these animals to another wooded area where they can live a more undisturbed life will actually likely result in them living longer, happier lives in the long run.

With regard to this blog being about "silly art dolls," yes, that's exactly what it is. This blog is meant to be a lighthearted way to bring a little joy to people that's unattached from the currently political, religious, social, and medical crises that are facing us around the world. It's meant to be exactly that, just a little silly, senseless cuteness for people to enjoy, and not meant to be taken seriously at all. Taking pictures with the groundhog took less than thirty seconds, and the groundhog was fine. Like I said, it was actually curious about the plush, probably wondering what sort of strange creature it was, haha.

You are good to be concerned about the animal, but I assure you it will be fine and is probably already exploring its new home with interest. I am sorry, however, that the post upset you, as it is never my intention to upset anyone with my content, and I encourage you to block and move on for your own well-being if you do not care for the content of this blog. Thanks for stopping by, and have a nice day!

[agriffin95]

You will never be a real man.

You will never be a real man. You have no phalus, you have no testis, you have no semen. You are a homosexual woman twisted by drugs and surgery into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your asinine appearance behind closed doors.

Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who “pass” look bizarre and freakish to a woman. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk girl home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a look of your waxxy, greasy phalic shape in your crotch.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a woman is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably female.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back

wow. your pathetic, clearly your insecure about yourself to hide behind Anon and troll..... I have a family that loves me and a fiancé that loves me more then the universe its self. She loves me for who I am flaws and all. You must not have that if you have nothing better to do but sit in front of your screen and be an ignorant asshole. You don't like me or who I am than kindly FUCK OFF. Don't be on MY BLOG where I can be who I TRULY AM. If I walked by you on the street you wouldn't even know I was Trans. I've been on hormones for 10 yrs and I have a beard that I can grow prolly better than most Cis Men and I'm 9 yrs post top surgery. I don't need your validation or opinion to be who I am. I WAS BORN THIS WAY BITCH, BYE🖕

[beyondspaceandstars]

Pastries & Memories

Relationship: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Innocent!Reader Warnings: manipulation, mentions of stalking, gaslighting, mentions of kidnap and harm Summary: The smell of pastries brings back triggers the unsettling memory of how you actually met Bucky. But when you confront him, there's no telling what's right anymore. A/N: i’ve been really into dark fics lately and naturally wanted to give it a shot! this certainly isn’t the wildest, darkest piece out there but this is me just dipping my toes in the water. i hope it’s still enjoyable!

Masterlist

He had taken you in. Comforted you. Welcomed you. Loved you. Saved you. Protected you.

At least — that was how your brain fuzzily pieced it together. How you actually ended up living in this apartment was a bit beyond your reach mentally. You could remember the outdoors, walking somewhere… then… then you were off. Bucky, you thought, told a different story.

But none of it actually mattered, really. In reality, you felt like you had always been with him. You two had finally connected one day and the rest had become history. He was all you needed. A lover, a protector, a rock.

You reeled in your wandering mind as you stood at the kitchen counter cutting up some strawberries. There was a little farmers market that had set up in the city last week and after a little persuasion, Bucky allowed you to check it out. He gave you some cash and you had chosen the most lovely looking strawberries. You felt a bit proud of yourself for venturing out of the apartment completely unaware that he was tailing you closely as you went, always on the lookout for his best girl.

When you had gotten back to the apartment that afternoon, he had pestered you about what you were going to make with the berries. You had giggled and pushed him away, commenting on how he hovered around like an anxious puppy. You hadn’t seen the stiff stance he took as darkness flashed in his eyes.

Truthfully, you hadn’t really decided what you were going to make with them at the time. Indecisive, you asked Bucky to look for some strawberry recipes online. Your internet access was greatly limited by your protective boyfriend but you didn’t really mind. Whatever was out there nowadays couldn’t have been more important than your love — well, except for strawberry treats, you realized.

Bucky obliged and hunted around for some baking blogs for you to browse. Eventually, you had settled on a fresh strawberry pie. The filling didn’t call for a jam like the others did, instead choosing to highlight the lusciousness of the fresh fruit. That sounded perfect for these lovely berries.

So, there you stood, dicing them carefully as you waited for the pie crust to get done with its par-bake. Bucky had collected the items for you from the store earlier that week but you wouldn’t give him a clue as to what you were baking. He had seemed pretty upset with that, almost threatening to not pick up the items, but then you explained you wanted to surprise him. He worked hard, you said, and he deserved to come home to some fresh baked goods.

Although, you maybe should’ve told him when you were going to make it.

As you were just finishing up with the strawberries, Bucky walked through the apartment door, giving a resounding "hello" to you. You greeted him back.

Bucky placed a large kiss on your cheek and proceeded to place a paper bag on the counter next to you. The outside of it had a logo for the bakery you thought you had read about just a few streets over. You frowned at the sight. Why…

"Oh, gosh," Bucky sighed as he looked around at the hectic kitchen. "I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t realize you were making your strawberry thing today. I wouldn’t have stopped at the bakery."

Your eyes shot from the bag to your boyfriend. "T-That’s fine, honey. I should’ve told you."

"Well, I guess you can never have too many sweets, right?" He asked with a light chuckle. You smiled in return, your mind still taking in that bakery bag. Bucky walked over to it now and opened it, letting the fresh smell of pastries hit your nose. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

You knew that smell — how did you know that smell? You gave an odd sniff, taking in the scent of baked dough and custardy filling. You knew that. A cheese danish. How did you know that?

Tears began forming in your eyes but you weren't exactly sure why — hell, you weren’t sure of anything right now. Where had this overwhelming sensation appeared from? The danish? Were you just hungry? Your hands were shaking. You saw the bakery flash in your mind. You had walked past it before — why would you have done that? Bucky never let you go that way citing the city safety. But you had once.

You were walking past the bakery, suddenly craving a pastry. But you didn’t stop for one. No — it was early morning and you were late. Late for what? You didn’t work. Except that maybe you had.

Bucky came into frame now. His smile was wide but his eyes were dead. He said some words — you couldn’t make them out — and you tried stepping around him. He didn’t like that. Of course not. Bucky was a stickler when it came to listening to him, to say the least. But you knew that was always for the best so why did you disobey him that time? He grabbed your arm in the memory. And then there was a pain in your neck. You were under now. Into the darkness.

You gasped as the memories suddenly dissolved. A hand was gripping your arm once more. But this time was very real and it was from a very, very concerned Bucky.

"Doll?" He asked, his eyes growing with worry and…anger? "What’s wrong?"

You couldn’t blink the tears away fast enough. What was that? Your mind was swimming as you tried finding some words to answer Bucky.

"N-Nothing."

"Nothing?" He frowned. "You’re crying."

A ding came from the oven. You mumbled a silent thank you and quickly went to tend to your pie crust. You pulled it out and placed it on the cooling rack before turning back to your strawberry filling. According to this recipe it needed a few more items…

"Sweetheart," Bucky’s voice boomed through the apartment. You jumped, nearly forgetting he was standing right over you. Your obliviousness far from an accident. "What’s going on?"

You eyed the bakery bag. Bucky had now taken the pastries out and placed them on a platter. Cheese danishes confirmed. You gulped.

"Could you… Could you tell me about the day we met, again?" You asked the question slowly, carefully, as that bakery logo flooded your mind. It was abruptly disrupted by Bucky plunging something into your neck. You shook your head and turned back to the filling, adding what was instructed.

Your question wasn’t really a weird one. You enjoyed hearing the story of how you two met as your memory was not really the best these days. You never did find out why…

"We met at a coffee shop," Bucky explained. You could tell he was suspicious but he amused you nonetheless. "I had seen you a few times in there before and, thankfully, one day I got the courage to speak to you. I asked you what book you were reading and you told me about it. We talked until closing time. I couldn’t get you out of my mind from that point on."

You nodded, letting the familiar story wash over you. This time, though, it felt so foreign. Like it was a fairytale. Too perfect. Too natural. You looked at the pastries, halting all progress on the pie.

"Well, then," you said, "I guess I just had the weirdest thoughts."

Bucky took a step closer to you. His front was nearly fully pressed into your back. "What kind of thoughts?"

You shook your head. "It’s silly-,"

His hand gripped your arm tightly. "Tell me."

You wanted to turn away. Wanted somehow to get out of this position. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. You were supposed to surprise him with a nice pie once he got home. He’d shower you with love and thank you’s before you turned your attention to dinner. While you made dinner, he’d watch some sports game on the television. You two would then eat like a nice couple and Bucky would compliment you profusely. That was how it all should’ve gone. That was how the good days went.

You wanted today to be a good day. But it was turning into a bad one real fast despite how much you really didn’t want to go down that path. Bad days were few and far between now but you remembered them in bits and pieces from the beginning of your relationship. They were just glimpses but, boy were they strong. You had forgotten things a lot or took long to understand something and Bucky had little patience for it back then. There was the pushing, the yelling, the degrading… No, no. You couldn’t turn down there but you couldn’t lie—

"I saw myself walking," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "It was a nice morning it seemed and I had walked past that bakery." You pointed to the bag. Bucky stiffened. "I thought I wanted a pastry but I was…late? I don’t remember the details and then you were suddenly there. You said something and eventually took me by the arm. Then there was a pain in my neck. It all went black."

There. The words were out. You explained it and now all you could do was pray and pray and pray that nothing bad came from this. You couldn’t stop your thoughts, really. Something happened there. That damn bakery, you guessed.

"Doll," Bucky tsked. He didn’t sound too angry just…dismissive. "Maybe you should go lay down. You’re not thinking right."

Your jaw went slack as you turned around. Bucky’s hand left your arm but you were now pressed against the counter, his body practically toppling over yours. Still, you looked up at him, in a bit of shock. He looked pretty calm — not at all mad, thankfully — as he stared down at you in worry.

"I— I think I know what I saw, Bucky," you insisted. He shook his head.

"You know your memory isn’t very good, honey," he said. "I think maybe you’ve been reading too many of those thriller novels. Might be mixing up fiction and reality." He motioned towards the bookshelf in the apartment holding your favorite books. Your brows furrowed at it. You owned maybe two thrillers and neither dealt with…anything like that.

"But it was me in the memory. I swore I was walking and there — there was that bakery!" You exclaimed, pointing at the bag. "You were there in front of me. Why were you there, Bucky? Did… Did something happen?"

Bucky’s jaw clenched as he looked over you. His eyes were a bit darker now, taking in your stubborn form. You tried holding your ground under his gaze but you were too intimidated by him. Besides, a bad day could be upon you. But you also felt your curiosity was justified and he hadn’t snapped right away. Was there really something to this?

But Bucky just shook his head again. "I really don’t know what you’re talking about," he sighed. "Why would you have even been over by that bakery? I tell you to stay away from there, don’t I? Unless you’ve been sneaking out."

Your jaw dropped fully this time. That was near to impossible it felt like not to mention it was absolutely something you’d never do. You’d never break Bucky’s trust like that. You knew the consequences that could come from it. They could even follow if he had just thought you did something. That was another part of the path you had to steer from.

"N-No!" You placed your hands on his chest, trying to reason. "I didn’t, Bucky, I swear. Y-You’re right. I’d never be over there, that’s such a silly thought to have. I must’ve read about it or something. The newspaper can be so graphic sometimes." You now prayed you were handling this right.

Bucky’s eyes searched you fiercely as you waited for his judgment to reign down upon you. He took your hands in his in an almost crushing hold. You tried to steady your breathing. Every word was pretty true. It must’ve just been something insane you had read. This could never happen to you. Not with someone like Bucky around. Your protector in many ways.

Eventually, Bucky nodded and said, "I’m canceling the paper subscription until you get better. I don’t want you getting scared like this, sweetheart." A beat. You let out a sigh of relief. "That means no more thriller novels either, okay? I need my sweet girl back. You’ve become so jittery." With that explanation, Bucky pulled you into a hug, his arms tight around you. You reciprocated, throwing your arms around his neck. You were glad he couldn’t see your confused expression. You hadn’t become jittery…had you? Maybe this outburst was a sign of something to come. Bucky was pretty smart when it came to stuff like that.

"I’m sorry to worry you," you mumbled.

Bucky pulled away. He forced you two eye-to-eye once more. His hand came to your cheek, caressing softly. "I just want to protect my girl, okay? That’s a lot of bad things out there."

You agreed and Bucky gave a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips. He eventually broke the hug and you watched as he took the bakery bag and its treats. Both were immediately dropped into the trash.

"What did you do that for?" You asked. You actually wouldn’t mind a cheese danish now.

Bucky shrugged, his smirk doing little to hide the concern for you. "Who needs that when my girl is making me a homemade pie?" Bucky took a strawberry from the bowl and popped it in his mouth. You gasped at his action, swatting his hands away while he laughed like a child.

The situation was now suddenly long forgotten. So fast, so swift. As he had wanted.

You turned back to the pie filling, completely oblivious to Bucky’s sudden change in expression. His dark eyes roamed over you like a hawk to prey.

[yan-purgatory]

Mementos

Pairing: Yandere!San x f!reader

Warning: Mature content

Word count: 1.5k

Admin ❦ &  ღ

note: this was written in collaboration before admin ❦ left the blog. i picked it up again recently and finished it - I hope you enjoy!

“Look at your little grin!” (Y/N) squealed, holding up the photo to his face whilst refusing to sit up. San chuckled before finding his own contribution.

Pulling out his wallet, he plucked out a small square from one of the compartments. A miniature photo, which he subsequently showed to (Y/N).

“How old were we?” She gasped, taking in the sight of the two children with their arms wrapped around each other with cheeky grins.

“Seven. Our parents gave us a copy of this photo for us each to keep remember?” San smiled, but (Y/N) only gasped, placing a hand on his thigh to lift herself off her back into a sitting position.

“I must have lost mine within weeks! How is yours still in perfect condition?” She asked, admiring how despite the film having yellowed slightly there was no damage, no tears or folds at all.

“It’s one of my prized possessions,” San replied, easing it out of her grip before placing it safely back into its home.

The sound of some cheesy slasher had been long been tuned out by (Y/N). All she could sense was the feeling of San’s hand on her thigh, drawing small circles on the supple skin. She tried to ignore it, reminding herself that they were just friends. They’d know each other since the age of one, there was no room for any sexual feelings in their relationship. Still, she couldn’t deny how amazing his touch was.

Disregarding her thoughts she turned her attention back to the screen for a second, only to have it snatched away yet again as San’s fingers started to trail up her inner thighs. (Y/N) gave him a confused look, only to be met with his eyes meeting hers. His lips quirked into a smirk before he turned his attention away again, watching as the teen couple of the movie connect their lips passionately before starting to remove their clothes with haste.

(Y/N) stood up, letting his hand fall away as she mumbled something about needing to use the toilet, avoiding look at him. The arrogant smile was still stuck on his face as he nodded, watching her leave the room until the door was shut behind her.

Having been left with blue-balls, San found himself thanking every divinity for his ability to persuade (Y/N) to watch the movie in her room. Now, he had an endless supply of ‘goodies’.

The first thing that caught his attention was a pile of undergarments dumped by the bed, evidently still fresh from the previous night. With delight he fished out the bralette and underwear, letting his fantasy of seeing (Y/N) dressed amorously in these for him taking over for a second. Yet he couldn’t resist the deep desire he had for getting something more out of his newfound treasure.

Disregarding all risks and forgetting where he was for a moment, he buried his nose into the baby pink lace, taking a deep breath in and breathing out shakily. The smell of (Y/N) that hung on the set was something of an aphrodisiac, as he felt himself become instantly aroused, luckily hidden under one of the blankets they had been snuggled in.

San simply couldn’t stop himself from taking another sniff, letting out a moan as he breathed out. He let himself lean back against the headboard, eyes closed in a euphoria like no other.

However, his moment of bliss was interrupted as the door creaked open again with the woman of the hour returning from her bathroom trip with calmer breathing and a settled smile. That was, until she saw her best friend grasping her underwear in his hand with some sort of sick smile on his face.

The only natural reaction was for her to let out a small gasp and grab the nearest thing which happened to be another picture of the both of them no older than ten. (Y/N) threw the framed treasure with all her strength towards his relaxed body.

If only San didn’t dodge it, his head turned ever so slowly towards her. The sick grin stayed put on his lips as his eyes twitched staring deeply into hers with an emotion that could only be read as obsessive lust.

“It’ll take more than that to kill me, princess.” (Y/N) was trapped like a deer in headlights as he stalked towards her. However, rather than attacking her as she feared, he reached past her to find the coil of tape on her desk, lying innocently next to her scrapbook.

San had less innocent ideas than sticking down photographs, as he unwound it and marvelled at how she flinched at the sound. (Y/N) didn’t even budge as he took hold of her wrist and swaddled them in the tape. His hot breath fanned her neck, almost lulling her into an opiated state. She forgot that he was her childhood best friend, she forgot that moments ago he was sniffing her panties. All she could think about was him fucking her.

“You’re such a good girl right now, princess.” He whispered, pushing her gently back onto the bed.

Her thighs naturally clenched together as the indecent thoughts crept into her head of her own best friend above her; the feeling of herself becoming wet for him was bad enough as she watched him bit his own lip looking down on her.

(Y/N) didn’t even last a second in her once matching sleepwear set, feeling San’s hand make its way back onto her exposed leg. His palm rested on her knee as his thumb stroked back and forth, his eyes never once leaving her’s.

His cold finger danced along her leg, higher and higher. (Y/N) squirmed, still not used to getting this sexual with her best friend.

His veiny hands grabbed her thighs, hands tapping her inner thighs and forcing them open. She let out the quicked moan to only be stopped by her own force.

San’s eyes finally left her’s to only divert to her clothed core. The shorts blocked his vision and he practically growled in frustration, his hands having no mercy as they grabbed the fabric from the top and pulled them down in an instant. 

(Y/N) could feel herself becoming hot in the face as San basically shredded the fabric of her shorts. They hadn’t been expensive, in fact she was sure he’d insisted on paying for them, but that was irrelevant right now. All that mattered was San.

“I can basically see how wet you are, all for me,” The bold sentence left his lips without a single care but his next action was even more bold.

His hand cupped her core, middle finger rubbing her slit ever so slightly through the thin excuse of panties she wore.

“San..nie?” She moaned at the feeling of the fabric pressing against her core. His middle finger pushed the fabric even tighter, only encouraged.

The sound of her voice echoing throughout his head was too much for him to contain himself as he practically became lost in the sound of her voice, like a man at sea he was lost.

“Who said you could talk princess? I need you to be silent for me,” San’s calm voice whispered back into her ear, giving a slight peck to the skin under her ear.

All she could do was merely nod, her breathing uneven and her stomach filled with both excitement and fear.

San’s warm hand slowly made its way higher and higher, his middle finger stopped its assault on her core, to be replaced with the settlement on her stomach.

She let out a sigh at the friction, wanting to beg for more but suppressing it when she made eye contact with him. She had to do what San asked of her, and simply closed her eyes as she felt his bulge right next to her thigh.

He finally slipped the lace away and tucked it in his pocket, clearly intended for later use.

“That’s it, princess. You’re so pretty.” San whispered as she unconsciously ground into the space where his hand had been lingering, wanting more.

She felt his hands gripping her thighs, and the softness of his hair tickling the insides of her legs.

Suddenly his tongue was inside her, and she was trembling as the pleasure built up inside her. 

“Oh fuck, oh yes.” (Y/N) breathed out. Her fingers twitched to bury themselves in his hair, longing to hold him and never let go. The knot inside her was almost too much, and with a loud moan she let go.

San was in ecstasy as he lapped at the juices, proud of himself. He was the only one for her: he just knew it.

“Sannie...” (Y/N) groaned, moving her body slightly in the effort to make more contact with him. He just gave her a grin, his eyes swirling with that dark obsession.

“Don’t worry, my princess. By the end of tonight, you’ll know just how much I love you.”

[isthisthingeven0n]

not so secret santa : j.w

with natalie’s help, jeff is your secret santa this year and proves to be the perfect opportunity to tell you how he feels (1.7k) 

all of my links 

requested: yes, by anon - thanks for the idea angel! warnings: none 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

“Come on, I’m not asking for much.” Jeff pleads as Natalie remains silent, scrolling through her phone. “Please, Nat.”

Glancing up from her phone, Natalie can’t ignore the puppy dog look Jeff is presenting. A heavy sigh leaves her lips as she lowers her phone. “You better have a good gift in mind, I’m not sacrificing my secret Santa just for you to fuck up.” Natalie states.

Smiling brightly, Jeff launches onto Natalie as he hugs her tightly. “Thanks, Natalie. I’ve got the perfect thing in mind.”

“I’ve got conditions to it though.” Natalie muffles through Jeff’s arms as he leans back, allowing Natalie to breathe. “You have to get her this,” Holding her phone up, Natalie watches as Jeff’s brows furrow together. “and, tell her how you feel. As I know I’m not the only one who can’t stand you tiptoeing around her anymore.”

“She’s got a point.” David chimes in as he wanders into the living room as Ilya files behind him, nodding in agreement.

“Oh come on, guys. It’s not that bad.” Jeff shrugs his shoulder, but the looks exchanged between his friends says otherwise.

“Dude, Scott was filming the other day and recorded you looking at Y/n in awe as she worked out.” Ilya comments and Jeff knows there isn’t any point denying it, he just can’t help himself when you’re around.

“She’s got a good body and strength.” Jeff comments confidently. “Besides, Y/n doesn’t see me that way, she has said plenty of times how much I mean to her as a friend.” Jeff reminds the others as his heart sinks back in his chest, remembering just last week when he went over to yours.

“What was so urgent?” Jeff asks with wide eyes as he pants lightly whilst you stand in your doorway, wearing your pyjamas as you rub your tired eyes.

“Oh, sorry,” You laugh innocently. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Jeff. I just, I needed help making Christmas cookies.”

Resting his hand against your door frame, Jeff exhales deeply. “You texted me, stating you had an emergency at 10pm, just to make Christmas cookies?”

Nodding in response, you hold your door open further. “So is that a yes you’ll help?” Your smile starts to grow as Jeff steps into your apartment, rolling the sleeves of his hoodie up.

“Where do you wanna start?” He asks, admitting defeat as you happily clap behind him, a spring in your step as you follow him into your kitchen.

“Thank you, thank you, Jeff! You’re the best, my Mom will adore these knowing they’re from her favourite of my friends.” You comment, missing the way Jeff’s smile drops for a second before standing beside him in the kitchen as you gather the ingredients, prepping your kitchen knowing the mess that is about to follow.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Taylor sings as all eyes turn to her. “I’m just saying.” Taylor holds her hands up as Ella nods in agreement.

“It’s not too late to back down from being her secret Santa, Jeff.” Natalie nudges him, but Jeff shakes his head.

“I’m not backing down and like I said, I’ve got the perfect gift.”

*

“So we’re actually organised this time?” You ask, looking around at everyone sat in David’s living room whilst David sits beside one of the many Christmas trees in his house.

Across the room, Jeff tries to remain composed as Natalie sends him a reassuring smile, knowing two of those gifts under the tree have your name on it and a confession to follow.

“For the first time, it seems so.” David chuckles as he rubs his hands together, scanning over the various presents underneath the tree. “So, how do you guys wanna do this?”

Scott rises to his feet, adorning his Santa hat as he remains dressed as Mrs Claus from recording his music video earlier today. “I’ll hand them out.” He suggests and everyone agrees.

Jeff watches as Scott hands out presents to everyone, the joy radiating in the room as Christmas songs play faintly in the background.

“And this one is for Y/n.” Scott walks over to you, handing you the soft present wrapped neatly with a ribbon and perfectly tied bow on top.

“Wow, who paid for gift wrap?” You chuckle, looking around at everyone as they remain silent, no one admitting who their secret Santa was just yet.

Watching in earnest, Jeff is distracted as he’s handed his present, quickly catching your smile as you look away from him.

“Okay, go ahead and unwrap your gifts.” David states as the sound of paper tearing fills the room and excited responses follow suit.

Yet, Jeff puts his gift to one side as he focuses on you unwrapping yours.

Ripping the paper off, you pause as you look at the gift on your lap. “What’d you get, Y/n?” Natalie asks you, a bright smile on her lips as you remain quiet.

Feeling his heart rest in his throat, Jeff takes a deep breath as you lift the hoodie out from the paper. “I, this is just,” Struggling to form words, you look around at everyone before your eyes land on Jeff. You silently mouth a thank you as tears fill your eyes.

No words are exchanged between you both as everyone continues to film for their channels and social media, slowly filing out of the room until it’s just you and Jeff sat in silence.

“I thought you might like it.” Jeff speaks up as he rests his arms on his thighs, trying to suppress his leg from shaking as you hold the hoodie in your hands, your fingers running across the fabric.

Lifting your head up, Jeff’s heart melts as tears fall from your eyes. “You did this, for me?” Your voice remains soft as Jeff nods. “But why?” Curiosity encroaches in your tone as you wipe your eyes, Jeff taking the chance to sit down beside you.

“Well, I remember that time your Mom came to visit you.” Jeff starts, remembering the day clearly despite it being months ago.

“Oh honey, I brought you something!” Your Mom exclaims as she reaches into her bag whilst Jeff busies himself in your kitchen, having come over to help you film as he knew your Mom was visiting.

“Mom, I told you I don’t need anything.” You roll your eyes playfully, just as Jeff walks into the room with three mugs.

“Thank you, dear, you’re a true gentleman.” Your Mom gushes to Jeff as he chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down in your armchair. “It’s in here somewhere,” Your Mom mutters under her breath before grabbing something and lifting it out.

“Mom, why did you bring that?” You ask, trying to conceal the fact you were beginning to get hot from embarrassment whilst Jeff watched curiously.

Holding your old teddy up, your Mom raises an eyebrow to you. “Honey, you loved this teddy, you brought it everywhere! Honestly, Jeff, she could never sleep without it!” A laugh is shared between Jeff and your Mom whilst you internally groan.

“I’m an adult Mom, I don’t need my teddy bear.” You sigh, but the sight of the ratty teddy bear does warm your heart. “But, since you brought it all this way, I guess I’ll keep it.” You reach out, taking the teddy in your hands as you keep it on your lap, the sight something Jeff hopes he’ll never forget.

“But, how?” A laugh escapes your lips as you run your index finger across the embroidery sitting on the left breast of the hoodie, an exact replica of your teddy bear down to the bowtie around its neck.

Jeff shrugs a shoulder in response. “I have connections.” He states. “And since you always steal my hoodies, I thought I’d give you one to keep and make it personal to you.” He adds, watching as you slip it on.

The sleeves hang over your hands, it clearly doesn’t fit but your smile grows. You loved Jeff’s hoodies as they felt like a warm hug from him, enveloped in his aftershave even if he wasn’t there with you.

“I just, this is the most thoughtful present anyone has ever gotten me, Jeff.” You admit as Jeff rests his hand on your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that fall as you sniff quietly.

“There’s erm, something else I got for you too.” Jeff mutters as you focus on his eyes as your hand rests on his thigh, the distance between you both minimising.

“Okay?” You chuckle under your breath.

“You have to close your eyes first if that’s alright with you.” Jeff asks as you nod, complying as you close your eyes.

Taking a steady breath, Jeff closes his eyes and leans in until his lips are on yours. It takes a moment for you to respond, and once you do, the kiss deepens as you lift your arms up, wrapping them around his neck as you lean back on the sofa, Jeff leaning over you.

Pulling away, you rest your forehead against Jeffs. “Was that the present or something you just felt like doing?” You question, rubbing your lips together as Jeff smirks.

“A bit of both.” He admits. “But I like you, Y/n, a lot. And if you’ll let me, I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“I thought you’d never ask, Jeff.” You breathe out, kissing Jeff softly as the sound of applause interrupts your moment.

Breaking apart, you look up to see all your friends stood with their phones and cameras.

"It's a Christmas miracle!” Natalie yells as Todd stands behind her, his arms around her waist. “There’s still one more present, and now I think you might actually have a use for it.” She motions to the small gift on the sofa, and Jeff reaches over for it.

Passing it to you, you unwrap it and bury your face in the sleeves of Jeff’s hoodie.

“Stay safe you guys.” David laughs whilst Natalie winks to you.

“I’m sure we’ll put them to good use.” Jeff mutters into your ear as you look up to him, quirking a brow before kissing him once more.

“Just you wait, Wittek.” You giggle. “Just you wait.”

[hawkbucks]

Love Is So Nice

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Universe: College/University!AU (as if there isn't enough of that on this blog already) Rating: PG-13 I guess? There's some innuendo, but nothing super explicit. Summary: Steve's happy whenever he's with Tony. Word Count: 736 A/N: Based off of Jonghyun's song of the same name. Also, this is super short, sorry. It's 3 AM as I do this and I'm my own beta, so I apologize for any errors, whether in spelling, grammar, me straight up omitting An Entire Word from a sentence, etc. etc.

It's dark in Steve's room. That's how he prefers it these days. Well, it's how his boyfriend (god, that feels weird to say; he's had a crush on Tony for so long that actually having him as his boyfriend feels like some dream) prefers it, and anything that Tony likes, Steve likes. The only lights come from the tablets Tony has scattered over the bed and Steve's own phone as he scrolls through his social media feed, a Marvin Gaye song that Sam recommended to him a few days back softly playing. He lies on his stomach.

"You sure you don't want to be out with your friends or something?" Tony says from his spot sitting next to Steve's head, back up against the wall with his legs stretched out. "S'gonna be a while until I'm done." As if to drive home his point, he puts down the tablet in his hands and picks up another one, tapping away on the screen.

Steve's 82% sure that there isn't anything important on that tablet. In fact, he's pretty sure Tony is just keeping it around for the extra light it gives, "Do you want me out that badly?" he asks, rolling over onto his back. He exaggerates his frowning.

Tony rolls his eyes but his mouth smiles. "I'd just feel bad if I was the reason you missed out on something exciting."

"I'm with you--" Steve breaks out into a grin-- "which is already pretty exciting."

"Sap."

"Yes." Steve's grin grows bigger when Tony leans down to give him a kiss.

Nothing. That's what they're doing, really. Steve's room is dark again. They're lying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, another one of Sam's song recommendations drifting throughout the room.

Steve's body is buzzing with how close Tony's body is. They've been together for months, but it feels like just yesterday he asked Tony out. His body buzzes with the close proximity, and he finds himself laughing.

"What's so funny?" Tony asks, turning his head to look at Steve. "This isn't about what happened last week, is it?"

"N--no," Steve responds. "Although now that you mention it--"

"Don't."

"I won't." Steve steals a glance at Tony from the corner of his eye. "I'm just... happy."

Tony adjusts himself, bed springs creaking, so that he's lying on his side, his head propped up by a hand. His free hand goes to run its fingers through Steve's hair. "Me too."

Steve gently grabs that hand by the wrist and presses a kiss to the palm.

"Unclench your jaw. Relax your shoulders. You're so tense." Tony punctuates this by placing his hands on Steve's shoulders and starting to massage. "Walker up your ass again?"

Steve groans.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." Tony sniffs. "You spell like turpentine."

"I'll shower later," Steve grunts, eyes fluttering closed. Tony's always been good with his hands. They're strong, firm, and exactly what Steve needs after hours of dealing with his hard-ass painting professor. Doesn't that fool understand that art is subjective? He's not going to mince words when it comes to evaluations.

"Is that an open invitation?"

Steve snorts, shaking his head. "You always hog the stream."

"It's not my fault you manage to get the water at the perfect temperature. I have to take advantage of it, you know."

Steve looks over his shoulder at Tony. "Is that all you're dating me for? My perfect water temperature?"

Tony meets his eyes. He doesn't mean to sound cliché, but he instantly feels like all of his worries are washed away. Tony is here. He's fine. They'll be fine. Professor Walker is a footnote in the book that is his life and all that. "I date you for other things too, you know," Tony says, snapping Steve out of his own thoughts.

"Like?"

"You make very good spaghetti."

"...I guess."

Growing up, Steve didn't believe in love lasting forever. His own parents divorced. He watched Bucky go through a rough break up with the person he said was "the one" back in high school. He's read the articles of celebrities breaking up and people proclaiming that love isn't real and has never existed. There are movies upon books upon poems upon art centered around love and the loss of it.

Love isn't forever. That's impossible.

As he lies with Tony in his arms, however, he thinks he could make it possible.

[bosspigeon]

I don't know a thing about Wayhaven outside of what I'm gleaning through osmosis via your blog but have it with your OC of choice: hiding face in neck

lmao it’s fine i’m the one who disrupted my video game/d&d-based blog with my insane hyperfixation on an Interactive Vampire Romance Novel. welcome 2 my cyber wasteland-- no rules, just right. so, this is stupid and self indulgent but  ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ my house now

3. hiding face in neck

“You don’t have to sit here, you know,” Juni giggles, squirming away from the stubble tickling at the tender curve of his neck.

“I don’t have to do anything, sweetheart” Mason grunts, and the affectation of carelessness Juni’s learned to see right through anyway is lost where it’s muffled between his ear and shoulder. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

Juni feels his face heat up a bit, and knows the flush is creeping down his neck because he’s all too familiar with the shape of Mason’s smirk against his skin at this point, and he knows they’re both thinking of him saying pretty much the same thing the night before, when he’d had his face buried in the detective’s soft chest.

“Well,” he blurts, desperate to change the subject. They’re alone in the sitting room for now, but that’s never a guarantee for long. “ I just... know how you feel about the way nail polish smells? And I can always go paint them outside, or wait until I’m back at my place, or--” He makes an ungodly squawking sound when he feels Mason’s teeth bite into his neck, nowhere near hard enough to pierce the skin, but definitely enough to leave a mark.

“Just paint your fucking nails, squeak toy,” he chuckles, and the detective doesn’t need to see his face to feel the aura of smugness radiating off him.

He grumbles a bit at the rude nickname, but does as bid, twisting open the brand new bottle and trying not to be too obvious about crossing his fingers. Almost instantly, Mason tenses against him, preparing to bury the sensory overload in the human’s scent. Juni waits a few seconds before he opens the bottle fully, and Mason lifts his head from the sanctuary of his shoulder to sniff cautiously at the air.

“Huh,” he says, eyeing the bottle. His nose wrinkles slightly. Juni figured this plan wouldn’t be perfect, but Mason’s reaction is definitely a far cry from the cringing, full-body revulsion Juni got the first time he made the mistake of painting his nails at the warehouse.

“I, uh, I found a new brand online?” Juni explains, brushing a messy black stripe over his thumbnail. “It took a bit, and I was worried it wouldn’t hold up, but it’s supposedly non-toxic and vegan? And the reviews were all pretty good. It actually peels off instead of chipping, too, which is gonna take some getting used to, and it’s pricier than I usually go for, so I’m hoping it lasts, but--”

As he’s wont to do when Juni gets to babbling, Mason quiets him with a kiss, and this one is the kind that leaves him feeling like his brain’s turning to soup in his skull. When Mason starts nibbling on his bottom lip, he thinks he feels it leaking from his ears. The one little part of his brain that hasn’t been liquefied by a stupid, sexy vampire regrets telling said stupid, sexy vampire he may have had a very, very, very small thing (some might call it a kink) for biting.

He miraculously hasn’t dropped the wet brush by the time Mason lets him breathe and try and remember how to think again, but the gentle thumb pressing to his wet, red lower lip certainly isn’t help on that front. “I just...” He swallows hard, blinking a bit and straightening his smudged glasses. “I just figured, well, since you’ve stopped smoking to spare my poor, fragile-even-for-a-human lungs, the least I could do is return the favor and not assault your senses because I want to try and fail to look cool, and wind up looking about as tough as a teacup yorkie in a spiked collar.”

Mason cocks an eyebrow at him. “Accurate, I’ll give you that.”

Juni smiles, still red in the face. “You think I’m cute,” he teases. Mason rolls his eyes heartily, crossing his arms while Juni keeps poking at him. “You like me.”

“You’re dripping nail polish on the table,” he says, and watches with more than a little amusement as the human yelps and hurries to clean his mess before it dries.

They settle in again, and this time Mason hooks his chin over the detective’s shoulder to watch him paint his nails. It’s messy, Juni knows he’s not the best at it. He gets almost as much on his skin as his nails themselves, and just hopes hopes it’ll come off on its own. Mason, if he has any, keeps his critique to himself, and though the polish doesn’t smell nearly as bad as the usual brand, it’s still not amazing even to Juni’s mortal senses, so Mason occasionally has to take refuge in the side of his neck again.

He’s pretty sure Mason’s going to tell him to fuck off (or the politest equivalent he’s capable of) and it’s pretty much just a shot in the dark to curb his boredom with holding still for any amount of time, and he almost falls off the sofa when Mason shrugs his shoulders and says, “Sure, why not?”

By the time he manages to finish (somewhat shaky and even messier than usual because Mason’s decided to nibble him again, and he’s distracting enough when he’s not mouthing at Juni’s ear) and deal with the battle of wills that is trying not to touch anything and ruin the polish before it can dry, Mason’s almost dozing against his back. “Can I paint yours too?” Juni asks without thinking. “Just.. waiting for them to dry is the worst part, and if I’m careful I can probably do yours without smudging mine?”

He probably should have seen Mason bracing both hands on his thigh and squeezing with a wolfish smile coming, but he hopes his sharp warning of, “Hold still, I like these jeans,” will deter any... shenanigans. It does, for the moment, and he finds it’s a lot easier to paint someone else’s nails than his own. Mason only has to bury his face in Juni’s dense curls once or twice before he’s done, and Mason’s left admiring his black nails. They’re still messy, but they look really good with the cords around his wrists. Figures he’d look effortlessly good even with Juni’s substandard nail painting skills.

“Not bad,” he hums, but his smirk says what he’s really thinking, which is “You suck at this, but it’s cute that you tried.” Juni definitely calls that a win regardless.

They are then left to kill time while Mason’s nails dry, and since Juni’s reached the safe stage he rewards the vampire for behaving by straddling his lap and holding his wrists down to keep him from forgetting himself and getting handsy while he kisses him. It’s definitely just as much for Juni as Mason, but with his mouth well occupied, Mason can’t say anything snarky on that front.

Juni growls almost as loudly as Mason does when Felix inevitably bursts through the door.

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (Epilogue)

Epilogue

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21, ch 22, ch 23, epilogue 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,587

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

                 Catalina took one last glance around her room before heading downstairs. She heard Jimin’s voice, which put a wide smile on her face. Him and Taehyung were back on time, which meant they’d be able to come with everyone that afternoon.

               She ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, before landing in the foyer. Taehyung and Jimin were taking their shoes off and setting their bags down, chatting with Hoseok and Namjoon. Catalina threw her arms around Jimin and asked him, “How was your trip?”

               He pulled away and smiled wide, his eyes disappearing. “It was incredible. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

               “I can’t wait,” Catalina said, smiling just as wide.

               “We were gonna go to the beach later,” said Hoseok. “Do you want to go with us?”

               “Sure! I think we’ll mostly just relax, though,” said Taehyung.

               “Here, I’ll help you unpack so you can get yourselves settled before we go,” Hoseok said, following them back out the car. Catalina left the foyer and went into the kitchen. The kitchen was beautiful, so different from when she first came into this house. They had it remodeled, actually, they had a lot of the house remodeled. Everything was a bit more modern, but their antiques were mostly still around. Even Yoongi redid his bedroom, saying he didn’t want to sleep in a rat’s nest anymore. He made an incredible amount of money on the antiques in that room, the museums practically begging him to part with them.

               The light was on in the kitchen when Catalina entered, which meant Jungkook was in there. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the fridge, staring into its contents with bleary eyes. His hair was a floof on top of his head and his pajamas were rumpled. Catalina came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. She laid her head on his back and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, something she’s become so very familiar with.

               “What will you have for breakfast?” she asked. He grunted in response, shifting some containers around on the shelf. He finally chose a container of leftovers and cracked the lid to sniff it. He sniffed it three times before deciding it was edible and dumping it on a plate. While it was heating up, he turned and opened his arms, letting Catalina settle into him.

               “Are you gonna surf today?” he asked.

               “You asked me that yesterday,” Catalina said with a giggle.

               “And you said no yesterday!” he said. She could feel his laughter in his chest where her head was resting.

               “Maybe,” she said. “I heard the teaching process is very hands on.”

               He chuckled and said, “Where did you hear that?”

               “Hm, I don’t remember,” she said. The microwave beeped and Jungkook let Catalina go so he could grab his food. She pulled a blood bag out of the fridge and sat down with him at the dining table, sipping at her drink while he ate.

               “What are you guys doing up so early?”

               Yoongi wandered into the kitchen with messy hair and tired eyes.

               “It’s beach day!” Jungkook said, much more awake now that he was eating. “You’re coming, right?”

               “No.”

               “Yoongi, you don’t have to swim or surf or anything,” said Catalina. “You can just sleep on the beach. Or drink wine on the beach. You need the fresh air, you’ve been at your piano for days. Plus, I think everyone would really like to spend some time with you.”

               “When are you going?” he asked.

               “We’re heading out around eleven,” said Catalina.

               “Oh. I’ll think about it,” Yoongi said. “Are Taehyung and Jimin back yet?”

               “Yes, they just walked in a little while ago,” said Catalina.

               “Good,” he said. “I’m glad their flight wasn’t delayed.”

               With that, he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               During the drive to the beach, Catalina made sure to sit in the back of the Jeep with Jimin.

               “So, tell me about the trip,” she said, a giddy smile on her face.

               “Ah, it was perfect!” said Jimin. “I’ve never been to Arizona before so I didn’t really know what to expect about the weather or anything. It really is very dry there. The heat is like heat from an oven. And the places we saw were so beautiful. We camped in the Grand Canyon and… it was insane. The Grand Canyon is insane. Everything was so incredible. And at night, you could see the stars perfectly. When we camped in Death Valley, there was absolutely no light pollution for miles so the sky was amazing. We saw the Milky Way.”

               “Oh wow,” Catalina sighed.

               “You and Jungkook should go next summer,” said Jimin. “You’d love it.”

               “Yeah, I would do that,” said Catalina. “That sounds like a lot of fun. We need to make up for our last trip.”

               They sat in silence for a while before Jimin said, “I can’t believe we’re going to France in two weeks.”

               “I know!” said Catalina. “I can’t believe it! This is something I’ve been waiting for my entire life and I’ll finally be able to do it!”

               “Is your solo ready?” Jimin asked.

               “I mean, as ready as it’ll ever be,” said Catalina. “You know how it is.”

Her and Jimin had both taken the winter semester off to recover from their transformations and to get used to their new bodies. Catalina used that time to choreograph a solo worthy of an audition in France. By now, the beginning of summer, she had perfected it as much as she could.

“I’m going to the studio to practice it tomorrow,” said Catalina. “You should come with me. You can help, or just watch. You haven’t seen it finished yet.”

“What time? I’m babysitting tomorrow,” said Jimin.

“Oh right! You’re doing that every Tuesday now, aren’t you?” said Catalina.

Jimin nodded and said, “Yep, Caleb’s sister has dance on Tuesdays, so I’ll just be there for a few hours.”

“Are you still gonna do that when classes start? You’re signing up for classes in the fall, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I don’t want to fall behind any more than I am,” said Jimin.

“Me too,” said Catalina. Then she smiled and grabbed Hoseok’s shoulder over the driver’s seat. “And you’re starting classes with us too, aren’t you?”

He laughed and said, “I sure am!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weather was perfect, and according to Jungkook, the water was ideal for beginner’s surfing. They got set up on a relatively empty patch of the beach. The family closest to them had a few kids, who were building a sandcastle near the water. It was Monday, so thankfully there weren’t too many other people there. Yoongi laid out a beach blanket and immediately laid down, covering his face with his sun hat. He was almost completely covered, with long sleeves and long pants. Catalina figured he was trying to protect his pasty white skin.

               Jimmy K settled down beside Yoongi with a thick book. Catalina had assumed he would be surfing with them that day; he seemed like the type to surf. Jimin and Taehyung lathered themselves in sunscreen and took their spots near the cooler, relaxing and watching the fun just like they promised. After shedding her shorts and tank top to reveal her new white bikini, Catalina lathered herself in sunscreen, since she could already feel herself burning. Then she grabbed her board and met the others down by the water.

At some point, the family next to them left and they were left to themselves on their private stretch of beach.

Catalina, Namjoon, and Hoseok kept their eyes on Jungkook and Jin, who were teaching them the basics of how to surf. They all had boards, rented ones for the newbies, and Catalina was excited to get out on the water. With every glance at the ocean behind her, she felt nervousness twist in her stomach. She had to keep reminding herself that she wouldn’t drown and she wouldn’t get hurt. Her body was stronger than it used to be, which was something she still hadn’t completely gotten used to.

                They were standing on their boards, Jin showing them how to position their feet. Jungkook went to each of them, giving them pointers or fixing their positions. He stepped onto Catalina’s board behind her and nudged her right foot forward a bit, hands on her bare waist.

               “Just keep your knees bent and your legs spread a bit more,” he said. His bare chest was pressed up against her back.

               “…And if you guys fall off, just let the current roll you until it’s settled, then come up,” Jin was saying. “But you guys won’t drown anyway, so no harm.”

               “Right, no harm,” Jungkook said, his hand sliding down to her butt.

She giggled and turned around to face him.

“Did Hoseok get this treatment when you helped him?” she asked with a wide smile on her face.

“He would probably like that,” Jungkook said with a laugh. “But this is only reserved for my favorite students.”

“Ooh, so Namjoon got this too,” Catalina said, winding her arms over his bare shoulders. He threw his head back and laughed. This was her favorite song. The sounds of his laughter, the waves hitting the beach, The seagulls calling overhead, his heart beating in his chest.

Catalina leaned up to press her lips against his, the board wobbling in the sand beneath their feet.

She never wanted this song to end.

[albino-whumpee]

I´ll stay where I belong

Had an idea while writing another WIP and it derailed. Sorry I don´t control what my brain does anymore, so here. For the @badthingshappenbingo​ my prompt was “Nervous breakdown” Also, for @whumptober2020​ day 2 and 3 “collars and manhandled” 

 Taglist:   @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker @boxboysandotherwhump @unicornscott

CW// Slavery, dehumanization, pet whump, conditioning, fucky headspace regarding self views, nightmares, implied hanging, manhandling, creepy comfort, a very blurry line between caretaking and whumping, implied ablism and negative views about stimming. Ask to tag and stay safe!

Albus was walking in the darkness of a place he hadn’t seen in his life, but knew like the back of his hand. He was dressed in white shorts and white shirt, just like his trainee uniform. Despite the usual lightness in his feet he could hear every step loud and clear, until he was suddenly sat in the middle of what looked like a library. Old books piled up on the ground all around the place. Stacked in shelves that reached the ceiling and beyond. He stared at the ground, where a compass was engraved on it, overlapping a constellation map.

Albus looked up when he heard the tingling bells of a jester hat. He blinked at the sight of a white jester with an annoying smile on its mask standing next to a wheel. He frowned. Turned his eyes at the engraved faces on each of the eight sides the red arrow could fall on.

They looked familiar.

“Sann..? And Ma’am?…what-“ he saw Tony and Sasha and Cloude, even Robert, but didn’t know who the other people were. Next to Sann and Jeremy, there was a little girl and an albino woman. On the other side next to Cloude, there was another unrecognized face.

To his surprise the jester spinned the wheel.

It fell on the albino woman. Then on the little girl. Then on all the others he knew. All the time giving him a pity glance and shaking his head. Irritatation was starting to set in, when at last, it fell on Sann.

Albus jumped at the pity head shake. Or tried to, but another jester shoved him back to his seat with a heavy hand on his shoulders. The other jester swinged a finger in front of his face and clicked his tongue like reprimanding a noisy kid.

“So unlucky. The wheel of fortune won’t spin on your favor” they said in a voice that sent shivers down his spine and felt wondering fingers crawling up. As if it could summon hands to touch the skin on his back “Albus” the boy took a shuddering breath “You may be lucky with how and not The Who”

In a puff, the wheel changed the faces for…punishments. Real punishments like at the facility. No, even worse. His breathing quickened when in another puff a version with a slightly blurry face of the girl appeared out of nowhere, followed by a white clown with red eyes.

“No…No, wait!” he whispered seeing the clown reaching towards the wheel. “No!” He yelled jumping up.

“That’s, right, No” the jester put his hands over his shoulders and slammed him down on the chair “Don’t move” he told him, voice suddenly way too deep. Albus whined in frustation. But a long finger passed over his mouth “hush, don’t speak. Do either and everyone will hit the jackpot!”

Albus eyes widened and his chest heaved in hurried breaths. His shoulders twisted to let a rope wrap his wrists together behind him. He wanted to cry out, having a bad feeling about the wheel and how the girl stared at it almost excitedly, but it was zipped tight. He could only let out muffled whimpers as he saw the wheel finally stop on the knot symbol.

He thrashed, but the jester manhandled him to keep him on the chair effortlessly. Almost enjoying seeing him struggle until he settled on letting him slam himself against the hard wood. He screamed when a foot held him thete. Twisting in the ground, he saw the clown getting out the rope, seeing it make funny shapes with it to the girl’s amused laughter.

Then blurry versions of every face came from the halls made of shelves. All eight of them had a white jester with one hand on their shoulder pushing them forward and the other on a rope. As if they were performing a dance, the clowns moved in perfect sync, pulled the tied up ropes on their necks, their faces smiling wide despite how tight they were on their necks.

Albus futile attempts to move or scream did nothing.

It was the sound of one final raspy stretch of the rope, one last tweak of a knot and a dry, cut short sound that woke him wide eyed.

He was sweating and holding his pillow tight. Too afraid to see the library, he didn’t uncurl his fingers off it until he saw Sann peacefully sleeping next to him. His broad back was there, but his own heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to run away from his chest to check itself. Even in the safety of his bed, feeling his loosened up collar around his neck and feeling Sann’s radiator body next to him, he felt unsafe. Watched from the shadows.

He let go of the pillow and straightened up to cup Sann’s face, searching for some awareness on the half open eyes, but he was in the fifth dream and very far from waking up. He was tired from having nightmares too and Albus would take the only chance he had had this last weeks from resting? No, no.

Albus let him go immediately then. Swung his feet over the bed and pressed his hands to his face. Trying to calm the thundering beating of his heart as his knee bounced shockingly fast. He heard Sann groan at the bed’s movement.

“Al?” The boy half signed in his sleep. The easy gesture of white was barely understandable in the dark.

“Shh, shh. It’s ok,” Albus said pulling the sheets to cover Sann up to his neck, tucking in his left arm below too “It’s fine, go back to sleep” he whispered to Sann’s little purr when he squeezed his shoulder slightly and stood up to walk to the door.

He was trembling on the hall for a while.

Hadn’t bothered taking his glasses, so he stood there in the middle of the house with shifty shadows that twisted into something more macabre. Sometimes he could swear he could see handler Harry in the corner, hear his voice threatening to cane his hands if he dared keep going with his annoying nervous rubbing and rounding thumbs.

Running from him and the shadows, he suddenly found himself curling next to Zarai’s bed. In the corner where night stand and mattress touched.

His cheeks flared up in shame. What was he? A kid who had a nightmare and had ran to his parents bed? He flinched hearing the slam of a cane against a gloved hand.

That’s not what a pet should do. You know better than that ‘900, c’mon. She’s your owner. You shouldn’t be a nuisance to your kind Master that lets you sleep on your own bed in your own room without making sure you stay there, now do you?

He shook his head to the voice’s pleased hum.

It’s almost like you want to be punished. So cute. Now-

“Albus?” The woman whispered right when he stood up, his cheeks burnt so much tears threatened to roll down. She stretched to light on the lamp on her nightstand, seeing at the click, a sweaty terrified boy kneeling next to her. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Albus opened and closed his mouth many times, but nothing came out. How could he even explain? He almost jumped away blurting out all sort of apologies when he heard her sigh and set her hand over his head. It was almost instinctively that he leaned on it with closed eyes. When it slipped down his cheek, Albus Held her hand with both his own with a sniff.

“Come here” she said moving to Cloude’s side. The man was gone for the weekend for a business trip, so there was plenty of space for him to crawl up and pull his knees to his chest. Feeling Zarai’s hand brush his back up and down, slowly smothering down the violent trembling.

“I-I-I´m sorry, ma’am” he whispered with his face hidden between his arms. The hand stuttered, but continued brushing his back and settled on his head.

“Its ok” The motion was so constant and warm, he could believe she meant it. “What is it? Can you tell me?”

He weighted the possibility of being honest for a second, but decided against it at the last second. Switched to other matters.

“What happens when I stop being good enough for you ma’am?” he said despite himself, lifting his head to watch her reaction. Calm and collected was what Zarai always appeared to be. Even in the middle of the night with an anxious pet on her bed pleading for comfort, she would give this air of composure Albus could actually feel comforted with. She dragged a long breath in.

“We will see why and work it out so you can do better” she slowly set a hand on the back of his head, right where the scar was, then pulled him closer to her chest forcing his body to follow the motion into a hug.

“No…no punishments?” He stuttered looking up to read her.

“No punishments” she sighed out long.

He shifted on her arms, finding her unexpectedly warm and comfortable. He closed his eyes and tried to relax a second. The rhythm of her heart was so absorbing as well, he stayed quiet just to hear it a bit longer, but questions lingered in his mind, searching to be answered. It was odd timing and he was being so bold, yet he needed to hear it. He desperately needed that reassurance.

“You won’t send me back when I stop being useful to you?”

A long silence stood, that the longer it lasted, the more he was aware his owner could have him wrapped around her arms one night and the next he could be back under handler Harry’s baton.

Yet when he was about to let the tears welling on his eyes roll down, she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.

“We said no punishments, Albus” She said carefully “Not ever”

The albino boy couldn´t help but lean into her embrace. Worries fled his body so fast his body was left exhausted at the release of tension. She gently laid his head on her lap and he was almost sure he could sleep right there and then and the nightmare wouldn´t continue. He tried to do that.

Not ever sounded like such a long time. It had been voiced like an immutable law too, yet, laws had clauses.

When his mind was slipping back to a dream laid out on her lap like that, she spoke. Wrongly assuming he was already asleep.

“Until I decide when, you will walk behind me, right next to me, wasn´t it?” She said with intentions he couldn´t name, yet understood when her fingers brushed against his collar.

What was the feeling he felt while laid out on her lap while she gently brushed his hair? What was it indeed, what he felt when he stayed wrapped in her arms for a while, before he went back to sleep next to Sann? What would he reply to Sann’s worried face in the morning, when he asked him what was wrong, why was he crying? Why did he felt a warmth on his chest that couldn’t suit either anger nor adoration?

The taciturn look he would have on his eyes when the fog WRU Installed on his brain took over when he spoke again would reply for him.

That’s right. Who I belong to is safe. The handler’s voice…no. His own voice said inside his head.

“And I’ll stay where I belong”

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - London bits

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 14 | Part 15 London bits | Part 16 >

Disclaimer: some strong language

Author’s note: It was so much fun to do some actual research on Jersey’s history - even though it is only mentioned very briefly in this chapter. 

Word count: 1.265

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

One can find and do many things on our Jersey island, its rich soil housing some 107.000 inhabitants. But as it appears, the world has more to offer than multi-horned sheep, lovely beaches and close knitted communities. Today I’m once more writing from the metropolitan city of London, my journey taking me to meet some ex-inhabitants of our beloved Jersey.  

In this “Old Faces goes London”, I’ll be visiting a baker who decided to bring his infamous Jersey-rolls to the great City of London, a linguist who strives to keep Jèrriais (our territories unique Norman dialect) alive and I’ll be having a cup of tea with an exporter of Jersey’s very own apple cider. Yum!

And, as time is ticking I will now bid you all adieu. Or, to keep it in the Jèrriais realms;

À bétôt!

Ali

‘Morning.’ Henry pressed a kiss on my cheek while he brushed past me, his hands busy with making toast while I prepped some lunch boxes. It was 6 AM on a Tuesday and, though I was far from awake, I did admit that I felt quite happy being here, in Henry’s Mews kitchen. 

In the far corner I could hear Kal hogging down some food after an even more ungodly early doggy walk - from which I thankfully had been spared - and before long the kitchen was filled with lovely scents and we were all enjoying our breakfast.

‘Sleep well?’ I said, keeping my voice down as the walls were rather thin. Henry nodded, cup of coffee hovering beneath his nose, cheeks dimpling with a tender smile. ‘Sure did. Though looks like you are STILL sleeping.’ He laughed. ‘Mmm... I’m very much enjoying this dream, thank you very much. So please, allow me.’

‘Then so I will. So what are you up to today?’ He took a hesitant sip of the far too hot drink, scrunching his nose as he nearly burned his tongue, then decided to put it down, his hands instead moving to cut into the toast, his egg all gooey perfection as it oozed out onto the plate. I could see Kal push his head on Henry’s lap, hoping that his puppy eyes were enough of a persuader to earn himself some bacon. But apparently it was just another part of their morning routine, Henry’s hand near automatically running through the Akita’s fur before returning to his breakfast, no bacon bits shared in the process.

Sweet bears. 

‘Going to have an interview with that baker in a little over an hour, then visiting that publisher followed by some work calls. You?’

‘No baker interviews unfortunately,’ He smiled. ‘Just meetings. Meetings, meetings, meetings.’ Henry shrugged, obviously not looking forward to it. ‘Oh..What do you want to do for dinner by the way?’ He inquired.

‘Eh…eat food?’ I grinned, earning an exasperated look from him. ‘Hahah..sorry..but eh..let’s just cook something at home. Shall I cook or..?’

‘Cooking as home is good, sure. And, Ali, honestly..I’m not THAT traditional. Maybe let’s just say that the first person who gets home, cooks? That seems to be more fair.’ He said simply, hogging down onto another huge bite. 

‘Very well then, my fair feminist knight.’ I winked, also cutting into my toast, my nose sniffing happily as the savoury scents drifted into my nostrils. Gosh, how nice it was to be with a man that could cook! 

—

Still somewhat catching my breath from hurrying from meeting to meeting, I sat before one man called Charles Dunham, his golden nameplate shining proudly on his paper-filled mahogany desk. From the moment I had gotten into his office, it became clear that the old, fat cheeked man was most eager to get me on board; a good cup of coffee and some cookies were moved onto the last remaining bit of his space on his overcrowded desk and before I could even take my first sip of the welcome drink, the offer was already on the table.

‘Simply said; we adore your stories. And from a business point of view we see great potential. You have a solid fan base, and we recently released a similar storybook for adults that sold like hot buns on the Sunday market,’ He grinned happily, throwing three cubes of sugar in his coffee and mixing it with a freakishly small spoon. ‘So we are more than glad to develop this project with you.’

I blinked over the rim of the cup of coffee, hot steam raising up from the porcelain. HOLY DAMN! I let out a soft giggle and smiled. ‘My…alright then. I had expected to have to give you my sales pitch and perhaps a kidney or two. I mean, I even made a whole presentation, but this is far better. Thank you so much for your trust and enthusiasm Mr. Dunham, it truly means the world!’ 

Mr. Dunham chuckled. ‘And the world better be ready. How about we start editing a first version in the next few months, fine-tune a few things? Oh, and I did have one small question; are these based on actual people?’

‘Some are inspired by a mix of people I know, though all characters are definitely fictional in nature.’

‘Well, perhaps you COULD add a slight reference to Superman, since he’s from the Islands as well. Our readers would surely love that.’

I felt my stomach somersault again. Oh Mr. Dunham..if only you knew.

‘Haha..well. We might have to look into copyrights there, but it sure is true that we, I, adore our homeland hero.’ I winked.

—

Oh the homeland hero. I did adore him, indeed. In fact I craved him really.

The moment I had gotten back to Jersey I felt like I had left a piece of myself back with Henry. Suddenly the air was bleak and my parents house was not my home anymore, the large but comfortable house feeling like but a shell of what it had been just days earlier. And it got even weirder when I was laying in bed. 

Here I was, alone, my hand outstretched to the spot where he would lay if we would sleep together. I even tried to sniff the pillow he had slept on, to see if any of his scent perhaps lingered there.

It didn’t.

It had been a strangely eventful day today. First the very early flight, a sleepy Henry - quite unique to find in the mornings - driving me to the airport. And then the near desperate hugs and kisses we shared, followed by a restless flight. And then I had to quickly drop off my stuff before heading to another doctors appointment. This time for one of a more invasive nature; a number of physical tests had to be performed so I could enlist for a sperm donor. My plan B. Just in case everything failed with Henry. 

But, in all honesty, it felt more and more like a doom scenario I was increasingly less comfortable with. Did I want to become a single parent, if all of this failed? Was that really my dream? Or was a child just a result of something greater I truly wanted, something I had pushed away and hidden from my still beating heart. Did I actually want something quite different?

Did I want..eh..love, actually?

As I lay there looking at the ceiling, small glow-in-the-dark stars speckling the otherwise dark surface, I came to the bitter tasting realisation that I had not really taken into account that there was suddenly this extra person who had come into the equation. This person I had wild make-out sessions with on my parents couch, as well finding in him the person who offers a listening ear and who would consolidate me and be there during a doctors appointment. 

He cared and was obviously not really wanting to leave. And I, to be even more honest with myself, well, I didn’t want him to leave either. I needed to keep him close and listen to him if I wanted this to last. 

Rolling on my side I picked up my phone. 11.30 PM. He’d probably be sleeping now. I bit my lip and decided to text him, even if he’d only read it in the morning.

“I just tried to sniff the pillow but your scent is gone. I miss you😢”

Quite immediately a message returned. A selfie, taken with a flash in the starkness of a dark bedroom. Henry’s face sulkily grabbing onto a pillow. “That makes two. I miss you three!”

I giggled, silly bear, then imitated his picture, taking one myself, his pillow squeezed tightly in my arm, head resting on top. “Sweet dreams bear. I’ll keep your pillow safe.”

And then a little voice chat message came in, his silky deep voice filling my heart with joy; ‘Sweet dreams Ali.’

Oh sweet were my dreams indeed. 

If only..if only he were here to share them with me. 

--

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69​

Fluff lovers squad: @star017​ @perhaps2remember​ @pterodactylterrace​ @witchersqueen​ @desperate-and-broken​​ @toomanyfandomsshreya​​ @deliciouslysassyarcade​​ @pamacs-macs​​ @cavilladdict​​ @scorpionchild81​​ @lebguardians​​ @sofiebstar​​ @amberbabem​​ @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb​​ @misslalaland-blog-blog​ @ilieherecharmed-fics2readnrec​ @michelehansel​ @henryfanfics101​

Want to be added to or removed from the tag list? Shoot me a message!

[imma-lil-teapot]

TMNT 2003/2k3 Headcanon: Crying - (Leonardo)

Feel free to scroll past this first part if you’re not interested in my silly rambling and nonsense. I won’t mind. Promise. ;)

Okey-dokey then, with the global epidemic that is the Coronavirus well in action and most of the world stuck in lockdown (starting this Friday for us too), felt like getting the ‘ol creative juices flowing with a little headcanon-y thingy in preparation for -possibly- more fandom writings to keep myself busy during the house arrest (well... it kinda is!) and hopefully my mind off all the bad news. :( 

Also, this is totally my first one on the blog! WOOT! Please bear in mind that I’m SUPER rusty! Haven’t written in ages so there are bound to be typos and all matter of general errors scattered throughout the post. Don’t pet them! They bite!  

Anyhoo~ Despite attempting to create and share with the goal in mind to uplift spirits, I decided to start on a rather upsetting subject (PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! They end on happy notes ;) ) because, Imma just come and say it, I enjoy seeing my favourite characters shed tears (not for just any old reason -their personality plays a huge role in this- and CERTAINLY not for sadistic reasons, land sakes no! But... well, you’ll see~ ;) ) It makes me all gooey and fuzzy inside to see them display such raw emotion and I just wanna leap into the TV screen to hug and console them. I dunno why. Maybe I’m nuts like that. (Remembers Raph crying at the farm when Leo was badly injured and wishes she could just hug them all and take away the pain) Oh well, if you enjoy visualizing the same, then *High Fives*. :)

So yeah, if you read the title, you’ll know this is based on the 2003/2k3 series (my favs). Hope you all enjoy~ :D Grab tissues cause sad turts ahead! :’(

Jibber jabber stops here~

TURTLES~

LEONARDO - You are here

RAPHAEL

DONATELLO - Coming soon

MICHELANGELO - Coming soon

WARNING(S): Because of the subject, Angst and Hurt/Comfort will be present.

RATING: G (General)

WORD COUNT: Don’t have the foggiest.

ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD:

And apparently gifs too, so without further ado: (Completely unintentional but in actuality, totally intentional rhyming)...

TO THE HEADCANONS~~~~

~LEONARDO~

-- It’s no easy feat to make the leader in blue turn on the waterworks. Leo won’t cry for any old reason. It’s not because he has no emotions, far from it, but being the leader of a small ninja clan -who happen to be family as well- is no easy task in itself: he has a lot on his young shoulders and deals with many issues on a daily basis few his age ever have to.

-- It’s because of these reasons that Leo doesn’t cry often. One of the lesser likely to out of the four brothers. But when he does, it’s an emotionally distressing sight to behold. 

-- Leo tends to cry whenever those closest to him -namely his brothers, his father/master and truest friends- are severely injured or are in a dire situation. Remember his angry/moody arc? The thought of losing any of them causes him great pain and distress, especially if he were the cause of any of it, and when that happens, he can’t stop the dampness that forms around his eyes and soaks into his mask. 

-- He’s not fond of crying, especially in front of others, even though he fully comprehends its normalcy. He feels he needs to be everyone’s rock, their fortress of physical and emotional stability to turn to for strength when things get rough... So when the tears start to fall, he feels he can’t show them, can’t allow them to watch him crumble under the gripling weight of helplessness and anguish.

-- He frantically wipes at his eyes and desperately attempts not to sniffle, but it’s a hopeless battle, for his tears are already a steady stream. 

-- He’ll try to hide when possible, usually retreating to his room to allow the worst of the emotions to spill over before returning to the others... Though he may be in there a while: when Leo lets his emotions go, it can be just as powerful as his red-banded brother’s rage. 

-- He spares no time in making sure the coast is clear for the tears are already streaming by the time he reaches his futon, and there’s no stopping them now as he lets himself drop to his knees, only halfway onto the mattress. He purposefully leaves the room unlit, cloaking his form in the darkness. 

-- He sniffs a few times as he shuffles up against the wall, sitting upright against it, bringing his legs up and hugging them loosely and droops his head against a single knee pad. 

-- His voice desperately wishes to escape. To express its misery. But he won’t allow it to, often placing one hand over his face in a bid to quell the sadness and remain silent in the battle against his own inner turmoil. He refuses to let anyone see him in that state of utter sorrow and vulnerability.

-- He whimpers ever so slightly and coughs a few times as breathing becomes difficult. He knows this episode won’t be over any time soon. Fortunately, he keeps some tissues next to his bed for such rare occasions and tries not to blow too loudly. He thinks back to the last time he cried so hard... It’s been a while. It felt like a build up. 

-- Time has been forgotten as he’s lost in deep thought. By the time he slips a hand across his eyes, only the material of his mask is still slightly damp. He clears his nostrils a couple of times before considering whether he was ready to return to his family. He’d of course straighten up his bedding beforehand, and would also require a trip to the bathroom to wash his face. A true ninja leaves no evidence. 

-- Leo tries to put the horrifying images out of head before leaving his quarters. He doesn’t wish to be weighed down again and thus maybe cause his emotions to come out a second time. He knew someone would catch on that time. Instead, he holds his head up high, focusing on the there and now to carry him forward.  

BONUS EXTRA~

-- Failure is also one of his greatest foes. Leo despises it, but not in the irrational sense; he fully comprehends that in order to grow, one has to lose in order to learn and thus, succeed in turn, and while it can frustrate him when he’s unsuccessful at mastering a martial arts technique for example, he understanders it’s part of the process and that no one’s perfect. 

-- It’s when his slipups could spell casualties or death to his family and/or friends is when it weighs down on him like a boulder strapped to his shell. 

-- A really big one. 

-- And it hurts. So much so that it causes him to become despondent and often teary-eyed when no one’s looking.

-- Boi Bloo might also cry from especially sad movie scenes. He gets seriously into the story, and when the scene is just right -perfect music, perfect timing etc.- you may just catch Fearless with watery eyes. 

-- He can’t help it. After all, he’s a leader, and very caring and kind-hearted individual, so movies showing children or anyone/anything defenceless getting hurt has him not only visibly upset, but also angry at the cause. He’s a softie like that. 

-- He won’t have a meltdown, of course, but the tears are definitely there. Just don’t tease him too much; he’s easily embarrassed by it. ;) 

BONUS EXTRA EXTRA FEMALE READER OR S/O EDITION~ (Can also use an OC/FC insert if you wish, up to you)

You had figured something was up by the time you’d finished greeting everyone in the Splinterson household except for the Turtle you’d long to see most and he hadn’t made his presence yet known. 

The idea that he must’ve been practicing or meditating swiftly vanished when Mikey told you he’d been in his room in the dark for the past few hours. “The guy hardly ever naps, and even so, never this long.” He’d told you. “I dunno, (Y/N), we were about to check on ‘im when you arrived, but maybe you should be the one to. Think he’d really appreciate it.” And there was absolutely no argument from your side as you were already making your way up to the room.

You didn’t know what to expect as you neared the doorway. Could he possibly still just be sleeping? Meditating in the dark instead of his usual spot by the training area? Or... was he sick? The latter now had you concerned and you picked up your pace... Only to pause mid step when an unmistakable sound reached your ears: a sniffle.

Had it come from within his room? It was the only logical explanation as everyone else was downstairs. You were truly perturbed now as you stood outside the doorway and called out the ‘eldest’ Turtle’s name.

There was some shuffling to be heard but you were unable to tell for sure what he was doing -probably trying to neaten up his bed- “(Y/N)? Just a second, okay?” he responded in a rather awkward verging on frantic tone, and you were certain you heard another sniffle escape him. 

That, along with the way he’d replied really didn’t help to put your mind at ease. “Leo, are you alright?” Nor was the pitch blackness in which he remained concealed in.

“Yeah, just... l-looking for something.” There was some more shuffling as if to prove his point, but you were having none of it.

“Then maybe this,” you began, turning around to flick the light switch, “will help?”

“No! Wait!” But it was a split second too late for as soon the brightness illuminated the entire room, you had caught the telltale signs of an emotional meltdown in progress plastered on his face before he quickly turned away and briskly wiped an arm across his face, attempting to hide the shame... or perhaps embarrassment? 

“Leo...?” your heart and voice softened, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You automatically walked to him, closing the gap he was now trying to form. 

“Nothing,” he lied, and acknowledged it was a fruitless attempt but still couldn’t stop himself. Autopilot panic mode was enabled now. “It’s nothing.” 

Unfortunately for him, autopilot mother hen mode was activated for you as you reached with both hands to his carapace and shoulder, gently turning him to face you. “I can see that it’s something.” Your words were gentle, and you wanted nothing more than to take away his pain. “Look at me, Honey.” His body was turned but his head remained to the side. It was clear he didn’t want his obvious distress on display, even to you. “Please, Leo?” You tried again, and slowly but surely, his eyes met yours, and you felt your heart sink further.

The fabric of his mask was wet and eyes were still red with fresh tears that threatened to fall. He appeared so broken and helpless as he stared at you, and even though he uttered no words, you could practically hear him despairingly ask “Is this what you wanted? To see me at my lowest?” from his expression alone. 

Never had you witnessed the leader of this band of mutant brothers cry. At times you had wondered if he ever did, and yet here he was; the incredible pillar of strength and dignity you had come to know and adore, in tears and so dejected that you couldn’t stop your own eyes from becoming damp the more you gazed at him. “Oh, Sweety...” You whispered as you felt your soul shatter. It was too much to bear. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, one around the midsection and the other over his shoulder, and buried your face into his leathery neck, offering every ounce of comfort you could muster.

It didn’t take him long at all to sink into the embrace and return the action. Beyond the point of concerning himself with showing the pain he felt -or the wetness now soaking into your shoulder when he placed his forehead against it- he sniffed and finally allowed the tears to fall once again as fresh waves of emotion surged throughout his body.

And this time, he couldn’t keep the whimpering to himself.

“Shh~ It’s okay, it’s okay,” you soothed, lightly patting and rubbing along the scutes of his shell as he weakly sobbed, finally letting go of all the sadness that gripped him. 

You weren’t even aware of what was wrong, and you most likely wouldn’t find out til later once he calmed down, but right now, he just needed you to hold him. Hold him until the hurt was gone... And so you would. 

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

ALL THE FEELS!! I EMBARRASS!!

OMGosh, this turned into a monster! The mother of all HCs!! :O No seriously, this wasn’t meant to be this long! I was suppose to squish all four into one itty bitty little post, but then it just grew... and grew... and GREW! Personally, I blame the Reader Bonus but I’d be damned if I didn’t enjoy writing it! ;P You guys here on Tumblr got me slightly addicted to them and have wanted to attempt some myself so... Anyhoo~ I can’t really say if I’m entirely content with the whole thing, I dunno. I feel some parts are better than others (writing style-wise) but yeah, I really need to get back into the swing of things...

Speaking of which, I DO plan on adding my two cents on the other bois as well, but judging by how this one turned out, they’ll most likely all be this length, more or less, so each Turt will get his own post so I can really jot down those details with all the freedom in the world! That being said, I can’t say when they’ll be added but hopefully soon-ish. :) Raph's next on the list!

Thank you all so much for the read and hope you enjoyed~ :D

~Drag0n Mistr3ss’ Random Fandoms*

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

34. Part 5

Pressing kisses to the side of Robyn face, she is really just wanting to stand here while I hug her, like she hasn’t even said a word “I feel like because you love me Chris you’re kinder with your words, you mind what you say because you care for how I feel so you won’t tell me the truth, you know” she spoke some shit “I mean, you didn’t lie there because you’re my whole heart, I wouldn’t disrespect you like that so yeah I would mind what I say but if you looked awful I would be like ok Robyn, you really let yourself go. But honestly, with what you went through. A natural birth, how you snapped back just doing things with our daughter, it was perfect, your body will be fine. I can’t wait to have sex with you, I am feeling it. I be jealous of Fenty having some breast, man. It’s hard. You are right, I am careful of my words but that is because I love you. You love me so you’re comfortable, so fucking what you dressed down. Baby you looked great, a new mother. But you’re glowing still, you know how the world is. They have this fake outlook on how people should be, don’t worry about it. Trust me” Robyn nodded her head against my chest, she is so sensitive “nobody knows the real Robyn, I think people would be shook” resting my head atop of hers “that I’m insecure?” She is so cute, nobody understands how adorable she is “that you’re not superhuman, you’re my gummy drop, that is it. Has to happen, my gummy drop” hearing Robyn giggle makes me happy “I think I just want to be sexy for you, like I know you. I know how much you love sex, if you ever go soft on me I’m gonna lose my mind” I snorted laughing “if it happens I can’t stop myself, stop being stupid. You want the terrible two to look after Fenty while I spoil you? Like spend time with you?” Robyn moved her head back “time with me huh? If Fenty is ok then I would love that” nodding my head “oh good” rolling my eyes playfully “just don’t be pulling down your robe unless it’s sexually” fixing the robe as I stepped back “you want me to get your phone? I’ll be back up” Robyn nodded her head, I guess I will just gather the two idiots and see if they will.

Not going to lie, I get why Robyn loves her team and her circle is small like this. I told them that they can take care of Fenty while we spend time together and they are both helping me with some food to take upstairs, I didn’t ask for that. I just literally wanted them to take care of Fenty “pretend you did this and oh, it’s a shame you can’t have sex yet. You could snuggle her I guess but I hope Fenty likes us, and these strawberries are delicious” Jah popped one in his mouth “delicious” I chuckled “thank you both for doing this; you don’t have too you know” sitting on the bar stool watching them both “you better rub her feet” that is a good idea “I just want to spend time with her, just us. I want her to know she is so loved that she has an amazing body. I get like it’s hard to keep up that persona, the world is wanting you to look like that person constantly. It’s hard, I know how that feels because they all want me to be this normal nigga when I ain’t even close to that. I think with Robyn and I we good, we are happy I just think people are going to want to meddle in our lives. They will want to see us fall; it sucks for us because they dislike us that much. I mean not us, but me” shaking my head “I get why they do though Chris, you seem so cocky. You come off as a confident cocky guy that I would not approach, like meeting you at the party I did side eye your ass because I’m like oh no sweetie Robyn is gonna be on that dick and she don’t need that. I was one of those people because outside looking in you seem like a real asshole, but honestly you’re not” look at Jah telling me the truth “I appreciate your honesty, like I get it but that’s my defence mechanism, because I’ve always had to be defensive you know” looking to the side of me “oh hey” placing my arm around Robyn’ waist “you was taking too long” I didn’t expect Robyn to come down “girl, this was supposed to be a surprise but Mel and I are putting together a little something for you both, don’t mind us” smiling at Robyn, she makes me so happy and she doesn’t even see it.

Chris was taking too long so I came down and was not expecting my friends to be putting out a feast for me, that is so cute. Feeling Chris’ thumb lightly rub against my hip as I stood next to him while he sat on the stool “are you ok boo?” Jah asked “I’m ok” my voice broke again “ugh! No! Just I am ok, I just need time, you know. No, not the camera” hiding my face with my hands, I asked Dennis to film but now I regret it “I just, I am hurt. Nobody will understand how that feels if you haven’t been through what I have, like I know Chris has but he blocks it out but I’ve always wanted that, when I say that I mean my dad’ love and it’s hard because I get that barrier because he wants me for money, he sees me as money signs. And when I saw what he did, I was so angry. My daughter, like me ok, but my daughter. Oh it hurt me so much to see it, and now I’m mourning my dad. Like I am trying my best to handle my life already, all I wanted was peace. I wanted my family to be happy, like I am with them. Fenty is the first child, well grandchild and now her grandpa is not around because he sold her like he did me, I am just hurting so much. I will be ok” Chris wrapped his arms around my neck kissing the top of my head “he’s trash Robyn, there is nothing I can say about him. Who the hell talks about their daughter and how they look, that is disgusting” Mel said, nodding my head in agreement. Chris is being so loving towards me, I love it “that is it” I said to Dennis with my lower lip quivering, I am a wreck.

Being in Chris’ arms is making me feel so much better, he is just holding me and not letting go “I hate that you’re crying my baby but, whah we have done for you is cut up fruit. We got the chocolate melted, you two can just snuggle up and be freaky, joking but just relax. We got all the snacks here, candy, got the fries frying, chicken will be out. You both just enjoy your time” I cooed out, that is so sweet of them “I don’t appreciate you both at all, would be nice to just spend some time. With him, with myself without thinking oh no Fenty is going to cry and then we have to just forget the little time together” when I smell Chris I just sniff weed, I miss that so much “Chris, why don’t you show Jah the things Fenty may need or want” stepping back from him “you sure? I can wait here” walking off to go around the counter “yeah, then just come back. So they know what to do, explain her fake cry too. When she needs the attention” I said “what!? You tell me my niece be fake crying!? No way” I chuckled “girl, Fenty be putting on a show. When she wants some attention she will do the fake cry, it’s much more like a kitten crying but when she is hungry you will hear the change in her cry, she is so dramatic” Mel’ eyes widened “I don’t expect anything less from her, oh my god. She is so you, fake ass” Mel put the plate down “I am glad to see you are smiling a little, can I just hug you?” nodding my head with my arms open, this is why I wanted to come here “I love you so much, I am honestly hurting for you. I think this little time will make you feel better” I sighed out heavily, I just feel ok “what is it?” Mel asked.

Mel knows me “I just, maybe that article is right. I look depressed, dragged down. I have gained weight; my vagina still feels weird. I looked better pregnant then I do now. I can’t please Chris, he is literally asking me to do something but because I can’t bring myself to be sexy I can’t, he will end up just looking to others. I am not special Mel, I am worried. You think I am going crazy, but I am not. He loves me yes but how long will it last for? How long will he wait for me, a man that has sex near enough every day, he stopped because I was pregnant but come on, you know what men are like. Men are men, look how long it took me to even get a man that wanted me, I just feel like I need to do better” Mel cringed, she is cringing because I am right “men are men but I believe Chris won’t, I feel like Chris cares about you too much, he is more into wanting to kill someone for you. If he was in cali alone, then I suppose I would think it but he is here, you will feel it Robyn. I can’t make you feel it, he can’t make you feel it but only you can, and you are. This is what the outside don’t see, they don’t see you like this” I sighed out “shit, nobody wanted to wife me. Funny right, sexy doesn’t get you far. It gets you dick and then left; I just want to please Chris. I want him to be happy, he jokes around but those jokes mean something. I dropped my robe naked and watched his reaction” Mel’ eyes bulged out “what, oh girl. You are getting yourself so caught up in this. How are you feeling depressed, actually its common in women that have had babies for this to happen. What did he do?” I keep looking to see if Chris doesn’t overhear “he was shocked, he didn’t like it but not in that way, he felt I was not me and he put the robe on me, I cried. A lot is happening isn’t it?” Mel looked at me in sadness “there is, but I am here” Mel wiped the stray tear “just spend some time, block out the outside world, block out me and Jah entertaining Fenty or making her cry” smiling at her lightly “the blogs are horrible” I mumbled.

I just feel like maybe I am doing too much, with everything. I wasn’t ready for this moment, I wasn’t ready for my own dad to belittle me so it’s hit me badly but I will get over it “Jah, you had my back for Rorrey, we can do it” looking up at Chris, he looks annoyed “but Canada?” Jah said all wide eyed, he looks in a panic “what about Canada?” I asked, “oh did the Jew respond?” Mel said, what on earth is happening with these “did I miss something? I am confused” looking between everyone “you not seen Chris’ video?” shaking my head “clearly not, you have my phone, what did you do Chris?” I really didn’t question when he said video “head of Fenty corp doesn’t know, well it was Chris’ fault” Jah spat “give me my phone” I held my hand out “so the plan is Chris is going to beat Canada dry’ ass  in Canada” taking my phone from Mel “why is Drake even involved in this!?” I am confused on that, unlocking my phone “Chris called out people, just watch the video” tapping on Instagram “I will but Chris you are not doing that, just relax. He is a bitch” shaking my head “I think maybe Chris should, Drake mocks you” never did I think I would hear Jah condoning violence “but we are beyond that aren’t we, Drake will be hiding behind his security anyways” let me see this video he has done, I never questioned it.

I sighed out smiling, like I am not even angry “I like it, you looked so angry there. He’s a puppy really, so what did he say? Clearly he’s crying in the corner” locking my phone looking up at Chris “he said come and beat his ass then and said he will send the jet” I sniggered “sure, just send him a picture of us on our wedding day and be done with it Chris, it’s over. I am over it; I am telling you now what will hurt him is that so do it. But I will never hold you back if you hit my dad. And what you said about loving me more then you love yourself, it’s a weird feeling to have that” smiling at him “and this bitch is stood here saying she is worried that Chris would want another piece of pussy, she was doubting you” Mel snitched “what pussy?” Chris said confused “I just feel like I can’t fulfil your needs, I am just thinking stupid Chris. Clearly” waving him off “oh right, that doesn’t bother me like that. I seen it with my own eyes what you went through. I don’t expect sex for months and I accept that, because you went through so much Robyn, I was there” I doubt my husband a lot, I need to stop doing that “I can’t even text anyone back, my phone is going wild since this announcement. People are going crazy, like I can’t even message, just I saw Drake and had to answer back” that video has really made my night “let’s just leave our phones and go upstairs. Let’s pretend this doesn’t exist” I think I am done here, I just want to spend time with Chris alone.

Chris has honestly made me happier, like I was feeling the worst, but that video really made me happy “come on, let’s go” I want to go now, I sighed out smiling “aye, what are you looking at, on your phone?” Chris seems so engrossed in his phone, like he is not even hearing me “Amikka has called me four times in one go, she knows I am on my phone. She is calling again” of course she is “answer it, put it on speaker. Let us all hear what she got to say” Jah is right “yeah, let’s hear it” walking slowly to the counter “ok” Chris answered the call and then placed it on speakerphone “yo” he placed on the counter, Jah gasped rushing to Chris’ side. Oh she is crying, like sobbing crying “chile” Mel said lowly “what is it?” Chris said “is it Aeko, if not then I need to go” I know Chris wants to just put the phone down, that bitch is crying her whole heart out on this call “how could you, this is what you were doing over there? Marrying that bitch, I screwed up that lawyer shit. Fuck you, fuck her and fuck that child you had with her. You really married her? Because she is Rihanna, you married her to gain. I know you, you married her because you know you’re a fucking deadbeat loser, she is also a fucking loser to be with you. She will need to come personally to shut me up because I will be singing to the gods about her precious fucking husband, you fucking married her! I would let you do anything; I was willing to do that for you” I am not going to say anything “I think for your own good you need to sign it; I get you’re angry. I did play you on but I was never into you like that, you know this” hearing Chris’ son in the background “your dad is a psycho, he doesn’t want to speak to you” the oldest thing in the book is to use the child “you chose her over your son, you gave her marriage because you’re stuck Chris. You have no choice, because then you wouldn’t see that girl that looks nothing like you. There is a reason to this, you treated everyone like shit, you get what you deserve. The girl could be Drake child, she has been around” Jah gasped, Chris looked at me as I stared back at him “you can talk down on me but don’t speak on my wife like that, that goes for you and my mother” he said “I hope she has a job, Chris you don’t send her money anymore. That is our money, you will send your son care packages. You will directly pay for his school, medical bills. Until we go to court you ain’t getting a dime bitch and that is on god. You will be begging to sign those papers; you better hope those boutiques hire you. I think you’re getting above your pay grade, next time you mention my name, or even my husbands name every endorsement you are clutching at will be gone! I suggest you apologise to your son, hug him, kiss him goodnight before he ends up here and he’s playing happy families with me because his mother can’t afford to keep a child. Now if you don’t mind Chris needs to rub my feet, disconnect the call” Chris disconnected the call “oh my god! You hear how quiet she got; she is shook!” Mel spat, she got on my fucking nerves talking down on me, she won’t be again.

Jah is gasping for air “I am fighting! Oh my god, baby you about to adopt her child. Oh my god” I shrugged trying to not laugh “she will never call me out of my name again, I promise you. Nobody calls me a bitch unless Chris is dicking me down but even then he doesn’t so yeah, she got another thing coming. And I am being dead ass, you’re rubbing my feet” Chris looked up from his phone “what are you looking at?” he seems too engrossed in that “she is sending me pictures of Aeko crying” shaking my head “turn off your phone, stop entertaining her and Chris. You don’t send her money” he better not, I don’t give a fuck “I won’t, she disrespected my wife. But when you said care packaged what do you mean?” Chris is right, what did I mean “so…” I dragged out “things like clothes, food so you will ask her what she needs. Baby, online shopping exists yeah, you know where she lives but you will not send her money. You pay directly, fuck that bitch! And I am not saying your son will go cold, that is not it but she will not sit on our money until she can bow down and stop this shit. I hope that ain’t the case, I am not ready to be looking after anymore kids. I feel a little weird about meeting that one, I don’t know” walking off to get some water.

[whump-it]

Callum; Rule No. 3

@haro-whumps @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @iaminamoodymoodtoday @kawaiiloverofanimu @burtlederp @untilthepainstarts @my-whumpy-little-heart @moose-teeth @pepperonyscience @faewhump @saphemme @slaintetowhump

TW for burning, forced kneeling on something sharp, blood, branding, dehumanisation, creepy whumper.  You know the deal!

“Rule number three,” Hayden said.

“Friday’s are quiet days,” Callum replied instantly, his eyes on his Master, determinedly not looking around the living room from where he knelt next to the couch.  

“Good little wretched pet,” Hayden murmured, bending down to look Callum in the eyes, level with him.  “I’m going to teach you how to be quiet because today is a Friday.”

Callum started to shake.  He didn’t want to but his muscles weren’t listening to what he wanted.  He shuddered under Master Hayden’s gaze.

“When is that bruise ever going to go away hmm?”  Master Hayden said, knocking on Callum’s right temple with his knuckles, rapping it like it was a door.  Callum winced.  It hurt.  It always hurt.

“I’m sorry…” he said.  “I’m sorry it won‘t go …g…go away.  I…I w…would make it go i…if I could.”

“Stupid creature,” Master Hayden said, standing up.  “What are you going to do hmm?  Use your slow little brain to think it away?”

Callum blinked and knew that he looked slow and stupid.  Knew that he was slow and stupid.  His brain wasn’t working like it used to. How do you make a bruise go away?  Idiot wretch.  Creature.  Wretch.  Wretch.

Wretch.

Pet.

“Hey,” Hayden shouted, the noise bursting in through Callum’s thoughts and in through his mind and in through his brain until it rang like a bell.  He flinched.  “Get up.  You’ve got a lesson to learn.”

Callum stood as quickly and as quietly as he could.  He didn’t want to get it wrong.  Today was Friday.  Today was for quiet.  He didn’t want to let Master Hayden down, not after he had allowed him up out of the basement again.  And he wanted to spend another evening in his spot next to the couch, his head on his Master’s lap.  The warmth of another person’s body heat to wrap around him.  Even if it meant being muzzled and the panic of not drooling on to Master Hayden’s immaculate trousers.  He would take it over and over to have that moment of belonging somewhere other than in pain in his basement.  He followed along, barefoot and as softly as he could, trying to make as little noise as possible on each foot fall.  Master Hayden turned as he walked, carrying on backwards towards the kitchen, whistling a short and highpitched note at Callum,  slapping his hands down on his own thighs.

“Who’s a good little pet today hmm?  Here boy!”

“Tha...thank you for saying I’m good,” Callum said as they entered the kitchen.

“Stand there,”  Master Hayden said, pointing at the floor.  “I need to explain the difference between dried pasta and fresh pasta to you. Do you know any differences between dried and fresh pasta?”

Callum shuffled to the place that Master Hayden had pointed out to him and tried to think of something that might not be too idiotic to say.

"Umm...uh...is...is it that one takes longer t... to cook?"

Master Hayden bobbed his head to one side and then the other, a raise of his eyebrows and a pressing of his lips as he considered what Callum had just said.

"Alright then, my silly little creature, I'll give you that one. Well done for not being entirely stupid today."

"Thank you Master Hayden," Callum spoke quietly, watching while his Master opened a a couple of cupboards and brought ingredients out.

"This," Master Hayden said, placing a bag of dried pasta on the counter top. "Is what you need for dried pasta. See?"

"Yes Master Hayden," Callum couldn't even begin to guess where this was going. He hadn't cooked for months. He was frightened that if he was made to cook then he'd get it wrong. He'd be punished. He shivered in his cuffs and shorts.

"This is what you need for fresh pasta," Callum watched Master Hayden pour out flour and sprinkle it with a little salt. "Pay attention now." Eggs came next, cracked into a well that Master Hayden made in the center of the flour. Opening a drawer, he took out two forks. One was placed by the hob. The other, Master Hayden used to whisk three eggs and bring the flour in. It came together bit by bit, slowly becoming what it was supposed to be from its constituent parts.

"Lydia loved home made pasta," Master Hayden said as he brought the dough into a ball, then picked it up and patted it, before covering it with film and leaving it on the side. Callum said nothing to that. He was constantly terrified of Lydia's invisible presence and what might happen if he mentioned her name.

"So here's what's going to happen," Master Hayden said, turning to face Callum and picking up the bag of dried pasta. "I need to work and Friday's are my busiest days," he opened the bag. "By the evening I expect a good home cooked meal, a decanter of red wine, my music and silence from you." Callum's gaze darted from his Master's face to the floor as the bag was upended and the contents tipped on to the tiles. "You will be quiet through everything and so you need to learn how to do that."

Master Hayden slowly stood on the dried pasta, pressing his shoe from heel to toe. Rolling it, crunching it across the floor. The noise made Callum twitchy and jumpy. He didn't like it. It was like thousands of tiny little gun shots going off through his head. Master Hayden stepped off the pasta and reached out to cup Callum's face, a hand on each cheek.

"Kneel down little pet," he murmured, pulling Callum down to the floor, inexorably towards the crunched up and plastic-hard pasta shards.  Callum went, unable to resist the pull, unwilling to defy, hands behind his back incapable of even trying to stop himself.  He whimpered as he went and cried out as his knees took his full weight.  Master Hayden tsked at him and went to the side to pick up the clean fork, flicking the ignition to the gas burners as he turned and waved the cutlery at Callum.

“I’m pretty sure that I said something about being quiet didn’t I?”  Master Hayden said, one eyebrow cocked and derision written plainly across his face.

“Y...yes...yes...oh...ah it...h...hurts,” 

Master Hayden turned his attention back to the hob, holding the tines in the small blue flame of the front burner. 

“Do you want to be my pet today, or do you want to go back to your basement and be a wretch all day hmm?  Your choice.  But up here you have a chance to atone and do better. You want to be better don’t you?  Isn’t that what you want?  For me to make you better?”

“Yes!”  Callum shrieked the word out.  He didn’t want to go back to the basement.  He didn’t want to be a wretch. He wanted to be good and be made better and be perfect.  Master Hayden could do that.  He could force the improvements in to and on to him and make the lessons stick.

“Good choice my slow little pet,”  Master Hayden muttered, removing the fork from the flame and stepping around Callum to hold the tines to his back.  Callum arched forward reflexively at the almost icy coldness of the sensation which quickly turned to a blistering heat.  He screwed his eyes shut and forced all of his screams down into the straining muscles of his neck, the twisting of his body.  He  held them there and shook with the effort until the fork was taken away, until he could flag and breathe too fast and try not to hyperventilate while his knees rocked back and for on the shards of pasta and he sweated across his forhead and down his back.  He ground his teeth down together and held his mouth doggedly shut while he tried to slow his breathing rate, to hold back the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision. 

“You can’t learn how to be quiet,” Master Hayden was saying through the wracking that Callum’s body was giving him.  “Until you get shown what happens when you make too much noise.  Noise on a Friday will be kept to an acceptable level and this is how you will learn it.”  Callum was flagging over his knees.  He knew that he was dribbling and that he had snot running down his face from the deep and heavy nose breathing of trying not to scream.  But he didn’t dare sniff.  Didn’t dare get burnt again.  His back was stinging and prickling and his knees were feeling warm and wet.  He knew that they were bleeding after only a minute or two of kneeling.

“Now,” Master Hayden said, placing the fork quietly back down and turning the hob off.  “You will quietly tell me how to make fresh pasta and I will do what you say.  If it doesn’t turn out perfect?  You get the fork and we try again.  If you make too much noise?  You get the fork and we start again.  I hate waste, stupid slow boy, so if you use too much of my ingredients up?  You get the fork.”  Callum nodded furiously at each sentence, his every breath just a little too short as he tried to deal with the ache and pain from his knees and the sting of his back.  Every breath was held just slightly before he let it out, trying to school it into silence.

“I w...w...won’t waste your food Master Hayden,”

“Good!  Now then, off we go,”

Callum had seventeen more branded sets of stripes from the fork before Master Hayden deemed that he had got the past right.  That he had successfully made little enough noise.  He seemed to have gotten away with the small barely-breathed out whimpers but anything more than that had earned him the hot press of the fork to his back.  Which in turn had rocked him on his knees and given cause for him to receive more burning.  More bleeding.  The feedback loop became increasingly more brutal.  Increasingly hard to fight against as he rocked and burned and dribbled and blasted snot from his nose. 

He was a bleeding, sweating mess but he had done it.  Eventually Master Hayden had decreed that he had instructed his way to a near perfect ball of pasta dough.  He had learnt what was too much. What was too noisy. He could be better from now on. Master Hayden was making him better. Making him perfect. 

Tears ran constantly down his face but he was managing to keep them quiet.  His knees were just two stabbing points of blood and torn flesh.  The last time that he had cried out and been burnt again, Master Hayden has hissed at him that Lydia’s knees were ruined too.  Callum had wnated to scream how sorry he was.  How he wished that nothing had ever happened to Lydia.  He wanted to curse and fling himself at his Master’s feet and ask for forgiveness for everything and anything that had happened and that might happen in the future.  Instead he kept his tears silent.  He kept his his breathing even and laboured in and out to avoid noise. 

He kept being a pet.

He avoided being a wretch.

“Are you hungry yet?”  Master Hayden asked.

“Uh...umm...y...” don’t lie.  Never lie.  “Y...yes Master Hayden.  I am quite...Iam.”  Master Hayden tilted his head to one side and smiled, a turning up of the mouth that never reached his eyes.

“Would my pet like a little treat then?” 

“P...please Master Hayden,” Callum said, quietly, shaky.  A tremor in his voice, vocal cords as strained as every other muscle into silence.  He watched his Master pick up the first ball of dough that Callum had instructed him through.  It was mishappen, the egg unevenly whisked and the flour not forked through properly.  He had been in too much pain to get through his instructions clearly and at the appropriate sound level.  He hadn’t learnt to control his volume.  He hadn’t learnt what it meant to be taught how to be quiet, that he had to be in pain in order to master the silence that needed to go with it on a Friday. 

“Good boy,” Master Hayden said, picking a small lump of dough off the main ball and rolling it between his fingers.  “Look at you there, up on your knees like a little dog waiting for its reward.  Catch.”  He threw the piece of dough at Callum’s head and he shut his eyes, flinched away from the incoming little missile and ducked.  The movement crushed his knees further into the pasta again and he gasped out long and low until the air in his lungs gave out, not wanting to make any more noise than that.  Not wanting another branding.

“Oh...not a good boy,”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Callum whispered.  He wanted to scream it.  He was so so sorry.  He wanted Master Hayden to know that.  To know how much shame he was feeling for flinching away from his treat.  For not catching it.  “P...please Master H...Hayden.  Please.”

“Oh you beg so sweetly don’t you?”  Master Hayden said.  “With your tears on your face and your blood on the floor.  So very very sweetly.  Go on then, open up.  Let’s give you your treat.  And don’t get it wrong this time.” 

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Midnight Music

A/N: Just a cute little oneshot with you and Steve because I feel like he doesn’t get enough love on my blog. As always; likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy. 

Pairing: Steve rogers x reader

You didn’t know why but music always seemed so much better at night. It was like a secret taboo. Putting your headphones in and cranking your music up really loud while everyone else was asleep. On numerous occasions you had stayed up until 3am, by accident, because you were just swaying to the music in the pure blackness of your room. 

Tonight happened to be no different. Around 11:30 you excused yourself from the rest of the avengers and decided to head to bed. You showered, dressed into your comfy bamboo pajamas, and then proceeded to put on your expensive headphones, turn off the lights, and turn up the music. 

Your favorite genre to listen to at this time of night was alternative or folk. Your playlist consisted of a lot of Hozier, Florence and the Machine, Lord Huron, and maybe some dark Billie Eilish songs. You liked hearing the music this way. The headphone perfectly covered your ears and did wonders at blocking out background noise in the surrounding environment. The bass sounded heavier, the singer fuller, and the sound in general, purer. 

If you had to guess what time it was you would assume it was around 1:30. The light under your door, from the hallway, had gone off some time ago and you saw the occasional feet moving beneath your door. Letting out a contented sigh you placed your phone on your bedside table and turned the music up just a touch more. You closed your eyes in the already dark room and just let the music move you, lulling your head from side to side and lazily swinging your hips in time to the song. It was pure bliss. 

It was also at this precise moment that Steve Rogers decided to go to your room to ask if he could borrow one of those things you put in the bathtub that fizzes and turns all sorts of colors. His insomnia was especially bad tonight and he needed a way to calm down and he knew you had a borderline obsession with them. He almost turned around when he couldn’t find that telltale sliver of light under the crack of your bedroom door but then he heard a low noise. Almost like a rhythmic thumping. 

Curious, he opened the door slightly to see you facing the wall, your back to him. His eyes doubled in size as he watched the sensual way you swayed your hips and glided your arms smoothly over your body. Your feet moved a little in an invisible dance that he only assumed accompanied the music you were listening to on your headphones. 

You spun around in time with the music to find yourself face to face with Captain America. It wasn’t a surprise that he was in your room but the timing was curious. He usually never came into your room this late. As soon as your eyes met his startled blue ones, you realized he had seen what you were doing. Dropping a swear word or two you turned your headphones off and dropped them so they rested around your neck. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?” You questioned, slightly out of breath from dancing and from shock. 

“I, um, what were you doing?” He answered with a question of his own. 

“I was dancing,” you began, glancing down to your headphones, “I do this almost every night.” 

“Why?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, “Do I need a reason? I just like it, helps to clear my mind. Some people meditate, I dance.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Steve brought himself to ask you about the bath bombs. Hearing about his request your mouth launched into a face splitting grin as you ushered him into your bathroom. 

“Okay, so you want something calming and probably something to soothe the muscles as well.” You assessed as you opened a few drawers and leafed through your superfluous collection. 

Steve got down on your level and his eyes almost dropped out of his skull at the sight of your collection. He was expecting a few, no more than 10. But you easily had upwards of 50 of the special spherical shaped creations. A whole legion of smells assaulted his nostrils, vanilla, citrus, lavender, honey, chamomile, rose. It was a lot. Within minutes you gave a little whoop of triumph as you pulled out the bomb in question and rose back to your feet.  

“Okay, this will cure all your problems and see you falling asleep in no time.” You guaranteed as you placed a small pink sphere in his hands. 

He took a wary sniff, “Smells like lavender.” 

You chuckled, “Good. That’s because it is. This is called Twilight and it’s the perfect bath bomb for you.” 

Steve was just about to leave when you reached out and grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding the bath bomb. 

“Do you wanna use it here? I mean I’ve seen your bathtub and no offense but it kind of sucks. Mine has jets and different water settings. It’s a fun time.” You sold, a slight flush creeping to your cheeks as you did so. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna overstep.” Steve replied, cocking his head to one side, sky blue eyes searching your expression for doubt. 

“You’re not overstepping, after all, I’m the one that made the offer and I insist.” You gestured for the tub on the other side of your spacious bathroom. You told him you would throw a towel on the heated rack for him (What? You liked to fully pamper yourself, Avenging was a physically demanding job). 

You put your headphones back in and tried to listen to music again. Tried, being the operative word. What you were really doing was thinking about a hot and naked super soldier sitting in your bathtub right now. The bathtub where you sometimes did….things. The tension was driving you crazy, you were gonna be sick. You turned your music up loud and laid down on your bed, your back to the bathroom door, so you wouldn’t have to think about him. 

Some time later you felt a wet finger tap your shoulder and you removed your headphones and turned around to see a shirtless and dripping wet Steve Rogers looming over you in the semi-darkness of your room. Your breath hitched as your eyes subconsciously followed a water droplet in its descent from his neck all the way down his pecs and then lower, over his v lines and down below the towel. Your mouth watered. 

“How was the bath?” You questioned, voice suddenly hoarse. 

“It was great, thank you.” He replied in an equally tense voice. He leaned down and pressed a tentative kiss on your cheek before he left your room to go down the hallway to his room. You turned off your headphones and sighed to yourself at a missed opportunity before you made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. 

The warmth enveloped you like a nice summer night and you sighed as you smelled the lavender from the bath. You began to brush your teeth as you inspected the wet footprints trailing away from the tub to your bedroom. You stared longingly into the still wet tub and wondered if a day would ever come when the two of you would be in that tub, together. You sighed as you put your toothbrush back on its charging port and went back to your bedroom only to find Steve sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Did you forget something?” You joked, hoping he didn’t notice the look of longing on your face. 

“I, um, I wanted to thank you again for the bath.” he replied, voice slightly hushed. 

“Yeah...and what else?” You wondered, as you ventured closer to him. Close enough to plant yourself in his lap if you desired. 

He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he carefully but quickly snaked an arm around your back and positioned your knees on either side of his broad thighs. With his one hand still across your back he brought the other one up to cup your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“Is this okay?” His murmured, lips mere centimeters from yours. 

“Mhm.” Was all you could bring yourself to say back, your mouth suddenly dry. 

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned, closing the distance between your lips at an agonizing pace. 

“Yes.” You husked back as he planted his gentle lips against your own. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like Steve Rogers. His lips felt like rose petals and he smelled like lavender, it made your head dizzy. His arm around your back tightened, bringing you closer to him. Your center brushed up against his growing member which caused a moan to break out of your mouth. Steve took the opportunity and coaxed his tongue past your lips to meet your own. Stroking it lazily, not demanding anything, just searching. 

Your hands came up to card through his ever growing dirty blond hair. You could do this forever, you didn’t even want to break for air. If you died kissing Steve Rogers then you would die a happy woman. Unfortunately, Steve broke off the kiss and rested his forehead against your own, breathing harshly. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He confessed, his breath coming in pants. 

“Me too.” You replied, smiling like an absolute idiot. 

“Can I sleep here?” He questioned, his eyes looking a little lost. It’s an expression you rarely saw. He saw the confusion written on your face and provided an explanation before you had a chance to ask. “Bucky and I usually sleep together but he’s away on a mission right now. That’s another reason why my insomnia is worse tonight.” 

You nodded your head in agreement as you untangled yourself from Steve and went over to your desk where your alexa was. You brought the device over and planted it on your bedside table. Steve got comfortable amongst your many blankets and pillows and you made yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm as he planted a kiss in your hair. 

Sleepily you said, “Alexa, turn on my sleepy time playlist.” 

She obliged and soon you and Steve were drifting off to sleep, in each other's arms, as Hozier lulled you into a blissful sleep.

[illbefinealonereads]

Blog tour day! Today I’m sharing some information about Lobizona by Romina Garber, as well as an excerpt. Scroll down to learn more.

Some people ARE illegal.

Lobizonas do NOT exist.

Both of these statements are false.

Manuela Azul has been crammed into an existence that feels too small for her. As an undocumented immigrant who's on the run from her father's Argentine crime-family, Manu is confined to a small apartment and a small life in Miami, Florida.

Until Manu's protective bubble is shattered.

Her surrogate grandmother is attacked, lifelong lies are exposed, and her mother is arrested by ICE. Without a home, without answers, and finally without shackles, Manu investigates the only clue she has about her past—a mysterious "Z" emblem—which leads her to a secret world buried within our own. A world connected to her dead father and his criminal past. A world straight out of Argentine folklore, where the seventh consecutive daughter is born a bruja and the seventh consecutive son is a lobizón, a werewolf. A world where her unusual eyes allow her to belong.

As Manu uncovers her own story and traces her real heritage all the way back to a cursed city in Argentina, she learns it's not just her U.S. residency that's illegal. . . .it’s her entire existence.

Early Praise: “With vivid characters that take on a life of their own, beautiful details that peel back the curtain on Romina's Argentinian heritage, and cutting prose that shines a light on the difficulties of being the ‘other’ in America today, Romina Garber crafts a timely tale of identity and adventure that every teenager should read.”–Tomi Adeyemi New York Times bestselling author of Children of Blood and Bone

“Romina Garber has created an enthralling young adult fantasy led by an unforgettable Latinx character Manu. In Manu we find a young girl who not only must contend with the injustice of being undocumented she also discovers a hidden world that may explain her very existence. I fell in love with this world where wolves, witches and magic thrives, all in a rich Latinx setting!” –Lilliam Rivera, author of Dealing in Dreams and The Education of Margot Sanchez

Buy Link:https://read.macmillan.com/lp/lobizona/

Author bio:

ROMINA GARBER (pen name Romina Russell) is a New York Times and international bestselling author. Originally from Argentina, she landed her first writing gig as a teen—a weekly column for the Miami Herald that was later nationally syndicated—and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Her books include Lobizona. When she’s not working on a novel, Romina can be found producing movie trailers, taking photographs, or daydreaming about buying a new drum set. She is a graduate of Harvard College and a Virgo to the core.

Social Links:  Twitter: @RominaRussell // Instagram: @rominagarber

Excerpt:

2

I awaken with a jolt.

It takes me a moment to register that I’ve been out for three days. I can tell by the well-rested feeling in my bones—I don’t sleep this well any other time of the month.

The first thing I’m aware of as I sit up  is an urgent need  to use the bathroom. My muscles are heavy from lack of use, and it takes some concentration to keep my steps light so I won’t wake Ma or Perla. I leave the lights off to avoid meeting my gaze in the mirror, and after tossing out my heavy-duty period pad and replacing it with a tampon, I tiptoe back to Ma’s and my room.

I’m always disoriented after lunaritis, so I feel separate from my waking life as I survey my teetering stacks of journals and used books, Ma’s yoga mat and collection of weights, and the posters on the wall of the planets and constellations I hope to visit one day.

After a moment, my shoulders slump in disappointment.

This month has officially peaked.

I yank the bleach-stained blue sheets off the mattress and slide out the pillows from their cases, balling up the bedding to wash later. My body feels like a crumpled piece of paper that needs to be stretched, so I plant my feet together in the tiny area between the bed and the door, and I raise my hands and arch my back, lengthening my spine disc by disc. The pull on my tendons releases stored tension, and I exhale in relief.

Something tugs at my consciousness, an unresolved riddle that must have timed out when I surfaced . . . but the harder I focus, the quicker I forget. Swinging my head forward, I reach down to touch my toes and stretch my spine the other way—

My ears pop so hard, I gasp.

I stumble back to the mattress, and I cradle my head in my hands as a rush of noise invades my mind. The buzzing of a fly in the window blinds, the gunning of a car engine on the street below, the groaning of our building’s prehistoric eleva- tor. Each sound is so crisp, it’s like a filter was just peeled back from my hearing.

My pulse picks up as I slide my hands away from my temples to trace the outlines of my ears. I think the top parts feel a little . . . pointier.

I ignore the tingling in my eardrums as I cut through the living room to the kitchen, and I fill a stained green bowl with cold water. Ma’s asleep on the turquoise couch because we don’t share our bed this time of the month. She says I thrash around too much in my drugged dreams.

I carefully shut the apartment door behind me as I step out into the building’s hallway, and I crack open our neighbor’s window to slide the bowl through. A black cat leaps over to lap up the drink.

“Hola, Mimitos,” I say, stroking his velvety head. Since we’re both confined to this building, I hear him meowing any time his owner, Fanny, forgets to feed him. I think she’s going senile.

“I’ll take you up with me later, after lunch. And I’ll bring you some turkey,” I add, shutting the window again quickly. I usually let him come with me, but I prefer to spend the morn- ings after lunaritis alone. Even if I’m no longer dreaming, I’m not awake either.

My heart is still beating unusually fast as I clamber up six flights of stairs. But I savor the burn of my sedentary muscles, and when at last I reach the highest point, I swing open the door to the rooftop.

It’s not quite morning yet, and the sky looks like blue- tinged steel. Surrounding me are balconies festooned with colorful clotheslines, broken-down properties with boarded- up windows, fuzzy-leaved palm trees reaching up from the pitted streets . . . and in the distance, the ground and sky blur where the Atlantic swallows the horizon.

El Retiro is a rundown apartment complex with all elderly residents—mostly Cuban, Colombian, Venezuelan, Nicara- guan, and Argentine immigrants. There’s just one slow, loud elevator in the building, and since I’m the youngest person here, I never use it in case someone else needs it.

I came up here hoping for a breath of fresh air, but since it’s summertime, there’s no caress of a breeze to greet me. Just the suffocating embrace of Miami’s humidity.

Smothering me.

I close my eyes and take in deep gulps of musty oxygen, trying to push the dread down to where it can’t touch me. The way Perla taught me to do whenever I get anxious.

My metamorphosis started this year. I first felt something

was different four full moons ago, when I no longer needed to squint to study the ground from up here. I simply opened my eyes to perfect vision.

The following month, my hair thickened so much that I had to buy bigger clips to pin it back. Next menstrual cycle came the growth spurt that left my jeans three inches too short, and last lunaritis I awoke with such a heightened sense of smell that I could sniff out what Ma and Perla had for dinner all three nights I was out.

It’s bad enough to feel the outside world pressing in on me, but now even my insides are spinning out of my control.

As Perla’s breathing exercises relax my thoughts, I begin  to feel the stirrings of my dreamworld calling me back. I slide onto the rooftop’s ledge and lie back along the warm cement, my body as stagnant as the stale air. A dragon-shaped cloud comes apart like cotton, and I let my gaze drift with Miami’s hypnotic sky, trying to call up the dream’s details before they fade . . .

What Ma and Perla don’t know about the Septis is they don’t simply sedate me for sixty hours—they transport me.

Every lunaritis, I visit the same nameless land of magic and mist and monsters. There’s the golden grass that ticks off time by turning silver as the day ages; the black-leafed trees that can cry up storms, their dewdrop tears rolling down their bark to form rivers; the colorful waterfalls that warn onlookers of oncoming danger; the hope-sucking Sombras that dwell in darkness and attach like parasitic shadows . . .

And the Citadel.

It’s a place I instinctively know I’m not allowed to go, yet I’m always trying to get to. Whenever I think I’m going to make it inside, I wake up with a start.

Picturing the black stone wall, I see the thorny ivy that

twines across its surface like a nest of guardian snakes, slith- ering and bunching up wherever it senses a threat.

The sharper the image, the sleepier I feel, like I’m slowly sliding back into my dream, until I reach my hand out tenta- tively. If I could just move faster than the ivy, I could finally grip the opal doorknob before the thorns—

Howling breaks my reverie.

I blink, and the dream disappears as I spring to sitting and scour the battered buildings. For a moment, I’m sure I heard a wolf.

My spine locks at the sight of a far more dangerous threat: A cop car is careening in the distance, its lights flashing and siren wailing. Even though the black-and-white is still too far away to see me, I leap down from the ledge and take cover behind it, the old mantra running through my mind.

Don’t come here, don’t come here, don’t come here.

A familiar claustrophobia claws at my skin, an affliction forged of rage and shame and powerlessness that’s been my companion as long as I’ve been in this country. Ma tells me I should let her worry about this stuff and only concern myself with studying, so when our papers come through, I can take my GED and one day make it to NASA—but it’s impossible not to worry when I’m constantly having to hide.

My muscles don’t uncoil until the siren’s howling fades and the police are gone, but the morning’s spell of stillness has broken. A door slams, and I instinctively turn toward the pink building across the street that’s tattooed with territorial graf- fiti. Where the alternate version of me lives.

I call her Other Manu.

The first thing I ever noticed about her was her Argentine fútbol jersey: #10 Lionel Messi. Then I saw her face and real- ized we look a lot alike. I was reading Borges at the time, and

it ocurred to me that she and I could be the same person in overlapping parallel universes.

But it’s an older man and not Other Manu who lopes down the street. She wouldn’t be up this early on a Sunday anyway. I arch my back again, and thankfully this time, the only pop I hear is in my joints.

The sun’s golden glare is strong enough that I almost wish I had my sunglasses. But this rooftop is sacred to me because it’s the only place where Ma doesn’t make me wear them, since no one else comes up here.

I’m reaching for the stairwell door when I hear it.

Faint footsteps are growing louder, like someone’s racing up. My heart shoots into my throat, and I leap around the corner right as the door swings open.

The person who steps out is too light on their feet to be someone who lives here. No El Retiro resident could make it up the stairs that fast. I flatten myself against the wall.

“Creo que encontré algo, pero por ahora no quiero decir nada.”

Whenever Ma is upset with me, I have a habit of translat- ing her words into English without processing them. I asked Perla about it to see if it’s a common bilingual thing, and she said it’s probably my way of keeping Ma’s anger at a distance; if I can deconstruct her words into language—something de- tached that can be studied and dissected—I can strip them of their charge.

As my anxiety kicks in, my mind goes into automatic trans- lation mode: I think I found something, but I don’t want to say anything yet.

The woman or girl (it’s hard to tell her age) has a deep, throaty voice that’s sultry and soulful, yet her singsongy accent is unquestionably Argentine. Or Uruguayan. They sound similar.

My cheek is pressed to the wall as I make myself as flat as possible, in case she crosses my line of vision.

“Si tengo razón, me harán la capitana más joven en la his- toria de los Cazadores.”

If I’m right, they’ll make me the youngest captain in the history of the . . . Cazadores? That means hunters.

In my eight years living here, I’ve never seen another per- son on this rooftop. Curious, I edge closer, but I don’t dare peek around the corner. I want to see this stranger’s face, but not badly enough to let her see mine.

“¿El encuentro es ahora? Che, Nacho, ¿vos no me podrías cubrir?”

Is the meeting right now? Couldn’t you cover for me, Nacho?

The che and vos sound like Argentinespeak. What if it’s Other Manu?

The exciting possibility brings me a half step closer, and now my nose is inches from rounding the corner. Maybe I can sneak a peek without her noticing.

“Okay,” I hear her say, and her voice sounds like she’s just a few paces away.

I suck in a quick inhale, and before I can overthink it, I pop my head out—

And see the door swinging shut.

I scramble over and tug it open, desperate to spot even a hint of her hair, any clue at all to confirm it was Other Manu— but she’s already gone.

All that remains is a wisp of red smoke that vanishes with the swiftness of a morning cloud.

Excerpted from Lobizona by Romina Garber. Published by Wednesday Books.

[sdvvillagers]

First official post from this blog, you KNOW it has to be about my muse Robin.  Threw together a ficlet of Robin and Demetrius meeting for the first time.  Enjoy!

~*~*~*~

It had been an incredibly long day for Robin.  It was one of those days where every inch of her body ached with exhaustion and all she could think to do was either collapse into bed or drink her troubles away at the saloon.  The prospect of returning home and having to resume the responsibilities of motherhood sounded too daunting to face, so she chose the latter.

When she entered the saloon, she was not at all surprised to find it mostly deserted.  The only people inside were Gus, the bartender; Willy, the local fisherman; and Lewis, the town handyman who was deep in conversation with Mayor Maynard (Robin absolutely could not address that man without bursting into a fit of giggles at his ridiculous name).  She took a seat at a secluded barstool and heaved a weary sigh.

"Long day?" Gus asked with a concerned expression as he approached the counter.

"Incredibly," Robin answered with another sigh.  "I just need a beer."

"You got it," Gus replied with a nod, instantly grabbing an empty beer stein to fill for Robin.

As Robin rested her head on the countertop of the bar, she could hear the door to the saloon open once more.  She didn't bother to look up to see who had entered, it hardly mattered to her at the moment as long as they left her alone.  Robin cringed as she heard the barstool next to her slide across the floor, whoever this was had chosen to take a seat next to her and she was in no mood for socialization.  When she lifted her head to tell them off, she was surprised to see someone whom she had never met before.  Robin was still relatively new to Pelican Town herself, but was sure that she had met everybody in town but this man did not look familiar to her in the least.

"You look like you could use some company," the man said pleasantly as he took a seat next to her.

"I was going for 'I just want to be left alone', but if you insist on sitting next to me anyway, I won't stop you," Robin said rather rudely.  She hadn't meant to snap at the poor man, but she couldn't help the foul mood that she was in.  However, her sour disposition didn't seem to affect this man who still had a big smile on his face.

"Demetrius Bennett," he said pleasantly, holding out his hand.

"Robin Finley," Robin said, taking Demetrius' hand in a handshake.  She had expected a firm handshake from such a tall man with large hands like these, but his handshake was surprisingly tender and delicate.

"Robin Finley," he repeated to himself.  "They say that if you repeat a name immediately after learning it, you're more inclined to remember it.  I've got a lot of names to learn, so I'm trying my best to remember them."

"You new here?" Robin asked conversationally.  If the man was going to insist on keeping her company, she may as well attempt to be cordial.  This attempt was made even easier as Gus set her full beer stein directly in front of her.

"Sort of," Demetrius answered with an uncertain shrug.  “I’ll be visiting Pelican Town every weekend for the foreseeable future.”  Before Robin could question what he meant, Gus turned his attention to Demetrius.

"What'll it be, stranger?" Gus asked jovially.

"I'll just take a water, please," Demetrius said kindly.  Robin let out an unintentional snort of laughter.

"You came into the saloon tonight for a water?" Robin asked, stifling another laugh.

"I didn't intend on staying, I just wanted to poke my head in to meet a few of the locals, but you looked so downtrodden that I wanted to at least see if there was something I could do to lift your spirits," Demetrius explained.

"It'll take a lot more than polite conversation to accomplish that," Robin said darkly.  "But I admire your optimism nonetheless."

For a moment, Robin sipped quietly at her beer as Gus brought Demetrius his glass of water.  As the beer began to relax her, she felt bad that this kind man had made an effort to make conversation with her, she may as well at least attempt to play nice.

"So, what brings you to Pelican Town?" Robin asked awkwardly, taking another sip from her beer.

"I’m here as part of my internship with ZC Labs," Demetrius commented.

“ZC Labs?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re a research facility based out of Zuzu City,” Demetrius explained.

"What kind of work do you do for them?" Robin asked curiously.  Here in the valley she was used to jobs such as 'farming', 'mining', 'fishing', and the like.  Certainly nothing that involved research of any kind.

"I'm an aspiring scientist," Demetrius answered proudly.  “ZC Labs pays for my college tuition and in return, they’ve stationed me out here in the valley to collect specimens.  It’s an exhausting schedule, I spend Monday thru Friday in Zuzu City for a full course load of classes at ZCU, then I head up to the valley on weekends for my internship work.”

"Why did they station you HERE of all places?!" Robin asked, completely baffled.  She couldn't think of anything at all scientific about Pelican Town and felt bad that this poor man seemed to have drawn the short straw for his internship.

"This area holds an abundance of plant life and wildlife that is relatively unstudied," Demetrius began excitedly.  "The indigenous flowers, plants, and fungi that grow here are full of potential and it's my job to collect samples and send them back to the main research lab in the city.  Once I complete my internship, if they find that there's enough here for further study, I may even get funding for my own laboratory!  I mean, that’s a long ways off, but that’s certainly the dream!"

"So what are you, some kind of nerd?" Robin asked with a chuckle.  Immediately she felt her stomach clench, she hadn't meant to be so rude with him but she couldn't help herself.  Robin was never the best with first impressions.

"If being fascinated by the vibrant and diverse ecosystem in Stardew Valley is nerdy, then I suppose I am," Demetrius responded with an amused smile.

Robin simply chuckled as she took another swig from her beer.  This man was proving to be quite a fascinating individual.

"What do YOU do?" Demetrius asked, tilting his head curiously.

"Well, I'm sort of a mixed bag at the moment," Robin answered awkwardly.  "My main job title is 'Mom', but I'm also a carpenter whenever I can get the work, which isn’t often at the moment.  I'm in the middle of building my dream home up in the mountains but it's been slow going.  I can't turn down the occasional odd job around town plus having an infant at my hip makes it hard."

"Oh!  You have a little one!" Demetrius said in surprise.  Robin sighed, already she regretted bringing up Sebastian.  This was usually the part of the conversation where men got up and walked away as quickly as their two feet could carry them.  She winced as Demetrius shifted in his chair, but was surprised when he didn't get up to leave.

"What's your little one's name, if you don't mind my asking?" Demetrius asked politely.  Robin could have sworn that he seemed legitimately interested in talking to her.

"Sebby," Robin answered, though she quickly flinched at her usage of the nickname she had given him.  "I mean Sebastian."

"Not a very common name," Demetrius commented thoughtfully.

"And 'Demetrius' is?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I like uncommon names," Demetrius went on.  "I think they give character.  Sebastian is a very noble sounding name."

"Well he's a little tyrant at the moment," Robin said with a sigh.  "I feel bad dumping him on Caroline at the moment, but I just needed a break from... everything."

"Who's Caroline?" Demetrius asked curiously.  Robin had to remind herself that Demetrius was still brand new and didn't really know anyone.

"She's married to Pierre, the owner of the general store," Robin answered.  "I'm crashing in their spare bedroom until my house is built.  During the day while I'm working, Caroline has been kind enough to watch my son for me.  I don't know how I could have done all of this without her."

"All of what?" Demetrius asked.

"Being a single mom, AND managing a brand new business, AND trying to build myself and my son a home," Robin said wearily, taking another swig from her beer stein.  She felt bad for unloading onto this complete and utter stranger, but it was odd how easy he was to talk to.  She didn't get the usual judgmental stares or pitying looks that typically accompanied her revelation that she was a single working mother.

"That certainly is an impressive feat," Demetrius said with a low, impressed whistle.

"It's exhausting," Robin said shakily, resting her head in her hands.

The exhaustion from even talking about the current state of her life letalone actually living it was taking its toll on Robin and, without meaning to, she could feel tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes.  The exhaustion and stress was starting to make her break but she was damn well not going to fall apart in front of this perfect stranger.  Robin took a deep breath and tried her best to sniff back the tears that had formed in her eyes as she tried to keep the impending mental breakdown at bay.  However, Demetrius immediately noticed her shaky breathing and the trail of tears that trickled down her cheek.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Demetrius said soothingly, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.  "Just let it out, it's okay."

"This can't be happening right now," Robin said to herself, still trying desperately hard to control the wave of sobs that was fighting to escape her.

"It's okay, I'm here," Demetrius said calmly.

"I don't even KNOW you," Robin said wearily, her shoulders shaking even more as she fought to control herself. 

"Does that matter?" Demetrius asked with a friendly smile.  "We don't have to know someone to empathize with them.  If you need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to talk at, or even just an unsuspecting fool to unload on, I'm your man."

At these words, Robin immediately burst into tears, unable to hold it off any longer.  Every eye in the saloon turned to her and Demetrius, but she hardly cared at the moment.  The combination of her stress and exhaustion combined with the sudden, overwhelming kindness that Demetrius had shown her was enough to unleash a wave of sobs the likes of which Robin had never experienced before.  She was thankful that all Demetrius did was sit there silently, his arm still draped around her shoulders as he awkwardly sat at his barstool to allow her to cry.  It was a fair few minutes before Robin was able to settle down and by the time she did, she could tell that she must look like a complete and utter mess.

“I’m so sorry, you must think I’m an absolute crazy person,” Robin uttered through her sniffles.

“I’d be crazy too if I was going through what you’re going through,” Demetrius said compassionately.  He still hadn’t removed his arm from around her shoulders, but it was oddly comforting to feel his presence.

"Where are you staying while you’re in town?” Robin asked, still sniffing back a few rogue tears as she wiped her face on her sleeve.  She was desperate to change the subject to something, anything, that would draw attention away from her breakdown.

“Out at the ranch in Cindersnap Forest,” Demetrius answered.  “Marnie has been kind enough to offer up her spare bedroom when I’m in town so that I can stay close to the forest.  A decent amount of my work will take place there, so it works out well.”

“That’s really nice of her,” Robin commented, the last of her tears finally starting to subdue.

“Yeah, everyone here has been so nice,” Demetrius commented with a smile.

“Until you met me, that is,” Robin replied, chuckling darkly.

An awkward silence passed between them as Robin looked away uncomfortably.  She was mortified by her outburst and felt terrible that poor Demetrius had to watch her go through that.  If he was smart, and he seemed to be, he would no doubt be keeping his distance from her in the future.  When Robin could no longer stand the silence that was passing between them, she picked up her beer stein and chugged the remaining contents of it.  Once empty, she slammed the beer stein onto the counter and grabbed a handful of money from her pocket as she rose from her seat.

“Hey, I’ll grab it,” Demetrius said kindly, holding out a hand to stop her.

“No way, I ruined your night enough, I’m not making you pay for my drink,” Robin said, shaking her head vehemently.

“I’d like to,” Demetrius said kindly.  “If it’ll make your night even the tiniest bit better, I’m happy to do it.”

“What’s your deal?” Robin asked suddenly.  She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but she couldn’t help it.  This man was a complete mystery to her.  However, Demetrius truly didn’t seem to mind her straightforward, often brash personality.

“I dunno, I guess I just see somebody who could really use some help and I’m gonna do the best I can to provide it,” Demetrius said with a shrug.  “There’s not much I CAN do, but every little bit helps.  If all it takes from me is a handful of money to make your difficult day a little easier, that’s a small price to pay.”

“You’re… you’re something, you know that?” Robin asked, staring at Demetrius with a bewildered expression.  She had never met anyone quite like him before.

Demetrius simply shrugged awkwardly, looking the tiniest bit embarrassed.

“I’ll see you around, Demetrius Bennett,” Robin said with a friendly smile.

“See you around, Robin Finley,” Demetrius said with a small wave toward Robin as she exited the saloon.

As Robin crossed the town square toward Pierre and Caroline’s, she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the man she had just met.  It was almost certain that after today, she would probably never see him again, but a small part of her hoped in the back of her mind that she could see him at least one more time in the hopes that she could make a better impression the second time around.