#if that were me i’d never stop thinking about it

[mediumgayitalian]

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———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[hyuckswoman]

« yoo, how are you? » mark asks waiting by your desk as you collect your stuff 

« when did you even get there??? also we’ve been texting the whole time you know how i am » 

« my class ended a bit early so i waited by the door and when people were leaving i thought i’d just come in, also it’s called courtesy the whole asking how you’re doing, so stop complaining this is me being nice » mark says as you both head out of the class 

« righhtttt my bad sir , where are we going by the way? I don’t have classes for the rest of the day so I’m free if you want to hang out » you say 

« I told you to stop flirting with me, you’re getting desperate and it shows » mark jokes as you slightly punch his arm 

« we could grab lunch if you want to? also i don’t know where your friend is, i don’t think i saw him in your classroom but we can wait for him if you’d like » mark says looking around for hanbin you presume 

« Bin went to a party last night, he sent me a text this morning he’s wasted and hungover and basically skipped class so we don’t have to wait for him this time, also i wouldn’t act like I’m the one that likes you too much given how you practically begged me not to leave the music group » you said trying to get back at him. It was kinda annoying how he shrugged and told you that you were right without fighting back tho. 

« where the fuck are you taking me? this looks too expensive i don’t have that kind of money » you say as you guys near mark’s recommendation. you make a mental note to never trust the guy ever again when he tells you he knows a place

«  don’t worry, i got the bill » he says

« man, you’re as broke as I am don’t even pretend with this gentleman shit » you say laughing 

« dude you could’ve at least pretended for my ego, you suck. also it might look super fancy but it’s affordable don’t worry, not that i’d let you pay for your meal tho, i might be broke but I still know how to treat a lady thank you » he says holding the door of the establishment open for you 

«  I will wrestle you to the cash register don’t even play with me marcus lee » you say trailing behind him as he chuckles. you wonder if he’s making fun of your threat or if he’s laughing because of the nickname (the answer is both)

you were halfway through your meal when mark started to speak again 

« man.. isn’t it kinda crazy? » he says looking at you 

« what is? » you answer genuinely confused.. did this man think you’re sherlock holmes or something?? how would you know what he’s even talking about 

«  it’s kinda crazy how you, my diehard fan managed to be in the same music group as me. you hide your game pretty well though, sometimes i forget that you’re the president of my fan club » he says, you could see him holding back his laugh so hard. crazy how this man was openly making fun of you like that 

«  what happened to ‘let’s not talk about this ever again’? also, considering how you’ve been hyping me up these past few weeks i’d say that the roles have reversed and you’re my die hard fan now, you even said so yesterday » you reply 

« i never said any of that you are mistaking me for another man on your roster » mark answers

« let’s not lie like that we both remember the messages… and stop slut shaming me we are in public. and considering the amount of girls that want you i’d say you’re more likely to be the slut » you says hoping that’ll shut him up 

« ooo are you jealous that everybody wants me?? » he says. the answer is yes but you’ll never tell him that of course. 

« stop being so cocky before i slap that smirk off your face » you reply lowkey glaring at him

«  you didn’t deny it though » he says cockily. this man was aggravating you 

« god you’re becoming worse than hyuck. actually nevermind you are worse than hyuck constantly asking me for validation and compliments » you say smiling

« ouchhh okay i get it my bad, i’ll stop asking for validation and compliments the minute I’m 100% sure that I’m your favorite. also i don’t think it’s fair how donghyuck and jisung get to have cute nicknames while you call me marcus » he says kinda sulking 

« oh sorry my bad dork lee » you say laughing while he just gives you the middle finger « also i call you markie so you do have a cute nickname stop complaining and eat your food » you say as he just goes like « oooooh, that’s right » remembering the nickname you gave him. 

as you guys were finishing the meal you excused yourself to go to the toilet (little did he know you were actually paying the bill like the gentleman you are)

as you come back to the table you see mark trying to grab the waiter attention 

« what are you doing? stop doing that you’re giving me the ick » you say sitting back down 

« man fuck you, it’s not my fault nobody sees me i just want to pay the bill. and don’t fight me on this please » he says continuing his gesture to grab the staff’s attention 

« mark i paid the bill already that’s why no one is coming please stop » you say grabbing his hand to put it down 

« WHAT???!!!! » he replies 

« man… i can’t believe you paid the bill. next time’s one me tho » he says holding the door open for you to get out 

« is this an attempt to ask me out on a date? » you ask. yea that’s right. uno reverse bitch 

« sorry i don’t date fans » he replies. ooooooooh this man is 100% aggravating 

« by the way I texted you earlier to give you something but I’m really fucking nervous so I’ve been delaying it this whole time, but no more delaying shit I’ve got this I think. Also if you think it’s weird thennn pretend i never gave you shit ok? » he says sorta hyping himself up in the middle before opening his palm revealing a black guitar keychain 

you burst out laughing 

« I think this is worse than if you would’ve told me that you hated it. I’m literally contemplating suicide right now don’t even play with me » he says as you laugh even harder because his antics were really making it worse 

A few seconds later and in between giggles you decide to speak « no.. wait, i swear I’m not making fun of you, I swear I find this unbelievably sweet, you’ll understand why I’m laughing just give me a second » you say reaching into your bag pulling out a spiderman lego keychain you grabbed from the same store earlier to give to him as a present 

« this is for you, i bought it earlier because it reminded me of you, since you said you liked spiderman and since your twitter header is a lego character » you say finding it amusing how you both got each other a keychain

« dudeeee you need to stop doing this to me I’ll cry i love it so much, also look i got myself a guitar keychain to match yours » he says showing you the other keychain 

« i also got a keychain to match the one i got you hold on » you say showing yours 

« it’s crazy how we thought of the same thing tho, we’re like… spiritually connected » he says as the both of you start walking to head back to your apartment because even though you’ve been making fun of him for his gentleman antics, deep down (you didn’t even have to look hard to see it) mark was a good guy and no matter the time of day, he’s going to walk you back home.

you wonder if it’s because you like him but you know that if he keeps on acting the way he’s acting, this whole crush was going to be even worse than it is…

39. double matching

previous chapter masterlist

notes: ended this on sort of a cliffhanger lolll, also this is not proofread at all sooooo idk probably a bunch of mistakes i just cba

taglist : @imsiriuslyreal @iscocohere @simpforarmihn @replayenthusiast @lovm4rk @youreintheclubb @polarisjisung @sour-chaos @jising-jisang-jisung @aerivrs @multifandomania @tiddygang2020 @roseangelxfuma @skepvids @morkiee @yangasm @artstaeh @pussyslayerhd @bacons-thighs @bugcattie @leefullsun @jkslvsnella @alethea-moon @marvelahsobx @haechansbbg @katsukis1wife @winuvs @n0hyuck @whats-my-question @dojaejunging @hibernatinghamster @user7520 @m1dn1ghtv1olet @starwonb1n @lostinneocity @miniature-tragedy @llearlert @haezyhyuck @inosfavgf @bluesinfinities @calumsfringe @cigarettesafterjae @defzcl @delfdiary @minkyuncutie @bunnyjaycheoluwu @sofix-hc7

[chilschuck]

beach day headcanons please (any characters you’d like)!!! we were deprived of the typical anime fanservice imo

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhh my gosh anon i was literally SO SO HAPPY to get this ask!!! decided to stick with the usual charas you guys enjoy, plus some falin!!! hope this turned out okay and thank you so much for having me write it for you!!! <333

— DUNMESHI BEACH DAY HCS.

꒰ charas: ꒱ laios, chilchuck, falin, & mickbell.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + fluff with gn!reader.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.4k

✦ hope this turned out okay!! it was such a cute idea and so much fun that if anyone has requests for more charas, i’d be more than happy to do it!! <33

— LAIOS:

✦ We know that he doesn’t do well in hot weather, so you can imagine he’d be sporting only swimsuit trunks and flip flops for sure.

✦ Definitely enjoys being in the ocean, especially to try and cool off. You can imagine he’d be really interested in knowing more about what’s in the water around him, and probably points things out to you that he finds interesting.

✦ Be prepared for him to burn really fast, so make sure he gets plenty of sunscreen!! It’s always cute to see him walk up to you and ask for help, in which you gladly oblige. You help get those spots he can’t reach, and he does appreciate just how thorough you are.

✦ You’ll probably end up splashing him, which he’ll return in kind. Be careful what you start, because you’ll end up drenched by the end of it!

✦ A picnic on the beach with him is definitely something that happens while you’re there. Laios is so excited to share a meal with you in such a beautiful setting, and finds himself giving you that goofy grin at just how happy he is. He makes sure to pull all the stops to make this enjoyable for you, even preparing your favorite snacks.

✦ Definitely goes home with a few shells or shark teeth, if he found any. Laios thinks they’re too cool not to pick up and examine, running over to you and showing you what he found in the sand.

“You won’t believe what I found!” Laios calls out to you, jogging over to where you sat on your towel. His hands cradled something, and as he stretched his arms out to show you, a smile grew on your lips.

In his hands was an almost perfect conch shell, something he held with pride and excitement. His smile matching yours, he said your name softly. “Do you think if you put it up to your ear, you’d hear the ocean like those stories?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not able to hold back the giggle at his glee. “Only one way to find out, right? Just make sure there’s nothing still living in it.”

Laios still keeps that shell in a safe place, wanting to remember the day you spent together.

— CHILCHUCK:

✦ This man is definitely showing up in a Hawaiian dad shirt and cargo shorts. The first few buttons are undone, and he has a pair of sandals on that he insists he only saves for days like this.

✦ Chilchuck plans on staying at the spot you claimed with towels and an umbrella, a drink in hand. He’s definitely enjoying the sight of you in a swimsuit and the breeze ruffling your hair, but he’d never admit that.

✦ You try to pull him towards the water, but you only manage to get his feet wet. Chil tells you this is as far as he’ll go, but that disappointed pout on your face makes his heart race a bit. Ok, fine… Maybe he’ll go up to his knees for you…

✦ Probably spends most of his time drinking and relaxing, a hand behind his head and alcohol in the other. Very dad-like of him, you muse, which causes his face to heat up and grumbles to leave him.

✦ Ends up falling asleep, the sound of the waves and the secluded shade from the sun causing his eyes to flutter shut. You can’t help but laugh a little, returning from your time in the water to study his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful like this, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up…

✦ If you do somehow manage to get him fully in the water, be prepared for him to get targeted by the tide. Maybe you even suggest getting him a float, which he gives you that blank stare in reply.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” You say as he finds himself in the middle of a tube float, eyes narrowed towards you.

“This makes me feel like a kid.” Chilchuck complains, yet you see him grip onto it tighter as an incoming wave makes an appearance.

You pull it over to you, the inflatable bumping into your stomach as you give him that teasing grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me while we’re out here, huh?”

The half-foot groans, debating on whether or not he’d make it if he tried to swim back to shore right now.

— FALIN:

✦ Wears a light t-shirt and shorts, opting to be comfy! She also has a hat she wears to help keep the sun out of her eyes. If she did plan on swimming, I like to imagine she’d have a swim shirt and a one piece swimsuit!

✦ Like her brother, she was excited to see all the shells and creatures at the beach, bringing you things she found fascinating. You might even find her entranced with a sand dollar and stating how pretty it is.

✦ Walks into the water hand in hand with you, but also really enjoys walking along the sand near the shore. As the sun sets, she intertwines her fingers with yours, leading you along and watching the pinks and blues in the sky reflect on the waves.

✦ Also definitely goes on a picnic with you, the beach making her cheeks even more rosy than usual. You can’t help but tell her how cute she looks in her outfit, her hair loosely blowing in the breeze. Falin would give you a sweet smile, the same one you fell in love with.

✦ Don’t be surprised if she leads you back to the water after you make sure she’s not getting burnt, insisting that she wants to enjoy how cool the waves feel. You’re more than happy to walk out a little deeper with her, noticing how she still keeps your hand in her own.

“It’s so nice out here…” You heard her mutter, a content smile dimpling her cheeks. The sunset left a sweet gradient in her hair, something that made you unable to look away.

“It really is. Too bad it’s getting dark,” you reply, a little disappointed that the day is already over. Falin squeezed your hand, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Maybe we should stay and watch the stars come out.” Her voice was so gentle, causing you to give her a grin of your own.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

— MICKBELL:

✦ Like the official art we have of him swimming with Kuro, he’s definitely sporting a pair of swim trunks and flip flops, with his hair in his signature ponytail.

✦ He and Kuro are so excited to swim, and drag you along to the water as soon as you get there. Of course, Mick is either clinging to you or to Kuro when in the waves, not seeking to really swim on his own.

✦ You definitely enjoy watching them swim and play around more than you’d like to admit, especially with Mick hiding his face and complaining when Kuro decides to shake all the water out of his coat.

✦ Mick really likes finding shells he thinks look neat, and showing them off to you and Kuro proudly. Maybe you even find yourself building a sand castle, with him and his buddy watching closely and moving to help you. He’s in charge of decorating it, while you’re in charge of building it! Kuro helps dig up some of the sand to use.

✦ The three of you end up getting a sweet treat, cooling off in the shade and enjoying the time spent together. Knowing Mickbell, he’s going to lay his head in your lap as he rests after so much activity, looking up at you with that cheeky grin he usually has.

“I could get used to this!” Mickbell sighs, nuzzling into your lap as he makes himself comfortable. Kuro is watching the waves, sitting beside you as the sun begins to fade from the horizon.

“I would’ve thought you’d be ready to go home a lot sooner.” You teased him, brushing his messy bangs out of his face. Scoffing, he made sure you saw as he rolled his eyes.

“If I didn’t have you and Kuro, maybe… But this is something we’ll have to do again. Right, Kuro?” The Kobold nodded, causing a warm grin to spread on your face. He was certainly right about that.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

 For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.”  You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

 You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

 It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he’s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.  

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Top Shelf Love: Prologue

A/N: So, if you know me, you know that I love hockey. But if there's one thing I don't love, it's hockey romances because they are always so inaccurate that it's take you out of the story SO QUICK! Like what do you mean the captain of this NCAA D1 team is undrafted? What do you mean she magically has access to an NHL locker-room in the middle of a game? So this is my response to that! A super self-indulgent Nessian Hockey AU. For additional hockey context: Cassian is a defenseman for the NY Rangers; Rhys is a center for the Montreal Canadiens; Az is a winger for the Nashville Predators; and Lucien is a winger for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Anyways! Hope everyone enjoys this prologue and this absolute meet-ugly! Happy final day of @nestaarcheronweek

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, tilting her head back against the leather of the seat. Almost instantly, she scrunches her nose, the stale scent of cigarettes, of sweat and previous occupants, flooding her senses. Eager for a distraction, she peers out the window instead. The skyscrapers loom like shadowed giants on either side of the road, a cascade of colorful lights spilling from their windows and reflecting off the wet roads, the puddles from the earlier rain. Throngs of bodies move along the sidewalks, neither the late hour or the dark clouds still clinging above deterring them clearly.

The city that never sleeps indeed.

The cab jerks to a stop along the curb, the driver not even bothering to turn around and say anything to her, merely tapping the fare display. With a roll of her eyes, Nesta fishes her wallet out of her purse to pay before finally slipping out of the cab. At least the driver pulls her suitcase from the trunk, setting it on the sidewalk beside her.

“Nesta! You finally made it!”

It takes everything within Nesta to swallow back down another sigh, takes all her willpower to force at least a hint of a smile to tug across her face. She can feel her earlier annoyance still simmering just beneath her skin, can still feel the exhaustion weighing down her bones. She’d give anything to be back in her own bed right now, anything to slip beneath her pile of blankets and curl up with a good book, but she’s here for Feyre, here to celebrate her baby sister.

So Nesta rolls her shoulders and plasters on an even wider smile before she turns around. But she should have known better, should have known that despite the physical distance between them, there’s no fooling her sisters. From the way Feyre raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching up in the barest hint of an unimpressed smirk, it’s clear she sees straight through Nesta.

“Sorry,” Nesta winces, her shoulders drooping already. “Journey from hell.”

“Sounds like you need a drink,” Elain offers with an easy smile, stepping forward and taking the handle of Nesta’s suitcase.

“Or five,” Feyre adds with a chuckle.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t exactly disagree. A stiff drink definitely sounds appealing after the nightmare of the day she’s had.

“I saw online that a lot of flights were just straight canceled, so I think you’re lucky to have made it at all,” Elain comments, leading the way along the sidewalk.

“I don’t know that I’d call a six hour delay lucky,” Nesta grumbles, practically shuddering at the memory of being stuck sitting and waiting in an airport for so long.

Nesta follows her sisters inside the building, but they take the elevator down, rather than up, Elain leading the way toward a black SUV. She tells her sisters more about the horrible journey as they walk. About the surprisingly long line at security. About the storms in the midwest and the delays and havoc they wreaked on all flights. About the child that seemed determined to scream for the entire five hour flight.

Once Nesta’s bags are securely locked away in Elain’s car, they return to the elevator and take it all the way up to the eighteenth floor, the doors opening with a soft ding. There’s no stopping the way Nesta’s jaw slackens as she takes it all in. A large centerpiece extends from the floor and fans out into the ceiling, the lights embedded within it casting the entire bar and its occupants in glittering golds. Live music seems to be coming from somewhere, twining and molding with the laughter, the conversations, filling the space.

But it’s the windows that really draw Nesta’s attention. Floor to ceiling windows seem to line every wall, offering a truly panoramic view of all of New York City and the Hudson. It’s a picture perfect view of the twinkling lights and night sky through the rain droplets still clinging to the panes.

“Wow,” Nesta breathes, taking it all in. “This place is definitely nicer than I was expecting.”

“If you think this is nice, you should see their venue.”

It takes a few moments for Elain’s words to register, but then Nesta is snapping her head toward Feyre. “You have a venue already? Does that mean you’ve picked a date?”

“Yes,” Feyre answers, unable to bite back her grin. “Next summer. July specifically, after Rhys’s season has ended.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit optimistic to think he’ll still be playing through June?”

“Elain!” Feyre exclaims, reaching out to smack the middle Archeron in the arm. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What?” Elain shrugs innocently. “It’s true. I mean what’s their current record again?”

“Because the Leafs do so well when they choke every year?”

“At least they make the playoffs.”

Nesta snorts softly at her sisters’ bickering. “Since when did you become a sports fan anyways, Elain?”

“I guess Lucien’s been filling her with more than just his dick.”

“Feyre!” Elain squeaks out, her cheeks flooding with a blush.

“Darling,” a deep voice practically purrs, interrupting them. “There you are. I was wondering where my beautiful fiancée got off to.”

“Rhys, this is my oldest sister, Nesta,” Feyre offers, sidling up against Rhys’s side, her fiancé’s arm settling over her shoulders with comfortable ease.

“A pleasure to meet you at last,” Rhys greets, holding up the glass in his free hand in a mock cheers. The gesture is a bit sloppy, some of the amber liquid in the glass sloshing over the rim and spilling across his fingers, and Nesta realizes there’s a haze to his violet eyes.

“It’s an open bar,” Feyre mouths, clearly reading Nesta’s expression.

“You don’t have a drink in your hand,” Rhys suddenly says, as though he’s only just realized. “We need to fix that immediately.”

Rhys turns on his heel, pushing his way through the various guests gathered to celebrate him and Feyre without a care. Nesta rolls her eyes, but Feyre has a wide, soft smile on her face as she watches him go, eyes practically sparking with fondness. It’s clear this is the man that makes her youngest sister happy, so she can’t fault him too much.

“He’s right, you know. You do need a drink still,” Feyre says, looping her arm through Nesta’s.

Feyre leads the way toward the bar built around the large centerpiece. She leans over and gets the attention of one of the bartenders with ease, ordering what she tells Nesta is the couple's signature cocktail. It seems to be some sort of margarita, a deep blue in color with edible glitter that looks almost like stars swirling through the liquid.

“So…” Feyre starts, taking a sip of her own drink.

“So…?” Nesta echoes, although she has a strong suspicion she already knows where this conversation is going. She knows that expression on her sister’s face all too well.

“Rhys’s brothers are here tonight.”

“And you need to stop being such a busybody.”

Feyre sighs, turning so her hip leans against the bar, facing Nesta fully. “Why? I’m an excellent matchmaker. Just ask Elain…” Feyre looks over her shoulder, but frowns, turning in a full circle with her eyebrows pinched low. “Wait. Where did Elain go?”

“She and Lucien probably found some dark corner to fuck like the bunnies they are,” Nesta answers dryly. It’s certainly the trend with those two, vanishing for a few hours before appearing again with slightly mussed clothes and hair, pink often clinging to the apples of Elain’s cheeks and a wide, shit eating grin plastered across Lucien’s face.

“That just proves my point! At least tell me you stalked his Instagram or something.”

“Emerie and Gwyn did.”

Her best friends had been trying to convince her to get back out there for a month now. Even with how much time has passed since everything happened, it still feels strange. Of course, that hasn’t stopped Emerie from dragging her out to bars for trivia nights and karaoke as if they’re the best places to meet someone new. It hasn’t stopped Gwyn from trying to tempt her to start a dating profile on at least one of the plethora of app options.

It hasn’t stopped either of them from hyping her up after they spent so long helping Nesta to piece together the shattered fragments of herself, of her life, back together. It’s why Nesta loves them, why she doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

But when Feyre had suggested setting Nesta up with Rhys’s adopted brother, practically raving over the phone about what a good fit the two of them would be together, it had been like blood in the water for Emerie and Gwyn. Nesta had barely hung up with her sister by the time Gwyn had tracked down his social medias and had them displayed on the television ‘for the best viewing experience.’

Cassian Valdarez.

Any other emotions aside, Nesta can admit he’s attractive, that much was clear from the photos and videos on his Instagram. With his dark, curly hair tumbling down to his shoulders, his bright hazel eyes. He had been grinning widely in most of the photos, golden skin of his cheeks stretched and crinkles popping beside his eyes. But even the one where his lips were tugged up in a lopsided, cocksure smirk had Nesta staring.

Nesta had done a lot of staring.

Staring at the photo of him in sunglasses and shirtless, lounging casually on some sort of boat, wide shoulders and swirling lines of ink on full display. The photo of him in a locker room, dressed only from the waist down, showing off the tantalizing lines of his abs, his v-lines. The Reel of him working out, chest heaving and skin glistening, biceps bulging with every lift of the weights. The reel of him stick handling with just gloves, in a tank and shorts, the muscles and veins of his forearms working with each flick of his wrist.

“Okay, and?” Feyre’s voice draws Nesta back to the present.

“And what?”

“And what did Gwyn and Emerie think?”

Nesta sighs softly, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I mean, they said I should go for it.”

“Ha!” Feyre exclaims, loud enough to draw the attention of a few others up at the bar. “See? I’m right. A perfect match.”

“Feyre, don’t you think—”

“Feyre, darling, I keep losing you.” Rhys slips into the space behind Feyre, wrapping an arm around her waist. He dips his head enough to press his lips to her neck before raising his gaze to peer at Nesta over Feyre’s shoulder. “Sorry. Do you mind if I steal my fiancée away for a moment?”

“Not at all,” Nesta assures him, but it’s Feyre’s gaze she meets. “I’ll be fine.”

Feyre and Rhys vanish into the crowds hand and hand, and Nesta settles at the bar, sipping her drink. Her eyes flit around, but she truly doesn’t know anyone here outside of her sisters. And despite her earlier words to Feyre, all the people, all the sounds and the lights, are starting to grate against her nerves, prickling and dragging along her skin like nails. Even downing the remains of her drink doesn’t seem to help, the alcohol only weighing heavy in her gut.

Leaving her now empty glass on the bartop, Nesta spins on her heel and stalks toward one of the walls of windows. She glances around at the different tables set up, the booths that line the windows and offer the perfect seats for the views beyond. Maybe she can find a dark corner to hide in for a few hours, or maybe, if she’s lucky, Elain and Lucien will decide they want to leave early to continue whatever they’ve started in an actual bed.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?”

The deep voice has a shiver skittering up Nesta’s spine, warm breath fanning across her ear. She spins around and comes face to face with a pair of hazel eyes, a cocksure smirk she’s only seen in photo-form before. Cassian Valdarez, in the flesh. He doesn’t even bother for subtly as his gaze rakes over her, and Nesta has to swallow hard as she tracks the way he licks his lips.

“And what if I wasn’t?” Nesta dares to ask, raising her chin.

Cassian chuckles, stepping closer into her space. “I think we both know you were looking for me. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Cassian’s hand reaches up in the space between them, snagging one of the stray strands of Nesta’s hair and twisting it around his fingers. Those same fingers skate down her neck, across her collarbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His touch traces over her shoulder and down her arm before finally closing around her wrist, Nesta’s breath hitching at the warm of his hand, the size of it, and she can do nothing but follow along as he tugs her toward one of the booths by the windows.

He lets go long enough to fall back against the cushions, for Nesta to settle beside him, but then his hands are right back on her. This time, his palm slides against the skin above her knee, fingers teasing along the hem of her dress. His other arm stretches along the back of the booth, all but curling around her shoulders as he leans into her.

“You look gorgeous in this dress, you know.”

“But let me guess, it would look better on your bedroom floor?”

“You said it, not me, but I don’t disagree.”

Nesta snorts quietly, tempted to tell him that it was wrinkled when she yanked it out of her suitcase before she awkwardly changed into it in the airport bathroom. But she never gets the chance to. Cassian lifts his hand until his fingers curl around her jaw, tilting her chin up enough that he can slot their lips firmly together.

The kiss takes Nesta by surprise, but it doesn’t take her long to respond. She moves her lips against his, Cassian’s grip on her chin holding her exactly where he wants her. When his tongue slips into her mouth, she moans softly, fisting a hand into the front of his shirt to keep herself steady and to keep him close.

Cassian pulls back just enough that he can murmur, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Right now?” Nesta blurts out before she can stop herself. She’s certainly not opposed to the idea, but with tonight being the first time they’re meeting, she thought he might want to get to know her more first. What exactly did Feyre tell him about her?

“You know what they say. No time like the present.”

“I should probably tell my sister I’m leaving then.”

Cassian’s eyes seem to glint, even beneath the low light of the bar. “Is your sister here? Does she want to join?”

Nesta is sure that she must have misheard him. “What?”

“It could be fun. Two sisters, one hockey player,” Cassian says easily, even daring to wink at her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Nesta can do nothing but gape at him, her mind reeling with this turn in conversation, but then it hits her like a ton of bricks. “You don’t know who I am.”

Cassian chuckles again, that cocksure smirk of his never slipping for a moment. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“Do you even know my name?” Nesta snaps, pulling further away from him.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, sweetheart. All that really matters is you knowing my name so you can scream it tonight.”

“You didn’t even want to ask for it before you kissed me? You don’t even want to ask for it now?”

“Look. We both know what you came here for, what you puck bunnies are always looking for, and trust me, sweetheart. I am more than happy to give it,” Cassian offers, the way his eyes dance over her frame again nothing short of a leer. It stokes the anger flaring in Nesta’s veins higher, until it burns bright and hot.

“Wow,” Nesta scoffs, pushing up to her feet. “Fuck you.”

Nesta doesn’t even wait to hear whatever sputtering response he might give before she turns on her heel and stalks away from Cassian, pushing through bodies to put as much distance between them as she can. She’s never felt more stupid, can’t believe that she allowed Feyre to convince her that Cassian was some great guy, that the two of them would be some perfect match.

She can’t believe that she had started to believe her sister’s words, that that damned hope had started to bloom and put down roots in the gaps between her ribs.

Because of course. Of course, Cassian is just like every other guy, only thinking with the head between his legs without a single care for what happens once the sun rises. He’s exactly what Nesta expects from a professional athlete, cocky and sure of himself, expecting every girl to fall at his feet ready to worship him and suck his dick.

She finds Elain and Lucien in one of the other booths near the opposite side of windows. Elain has her legs draped across Lucien’s lap, giggling around the straw of her drink. Lucien seems to be smirking through whatever story he’s telling, his arm stretched across the back of the booth, fingers toying aimlessly with the soft brown curls of Elain’s hair.

“Can we go?” Nesta interrupts, looking between the two.

Elain blinks a few times, but then she starts nodding her head. “Of course. You’ve already had such a long day.”

Elain pushes up and to her feet, wobbling just slightly in her heels, but Lucien is there right behind her, his hands spanning across her waist to steady her. She smiles over her shoulder up at him before turning her attention to her purse, rooting around with a frown.

“Wait. Where are the keys?”

“I have them, my love,” Lucien answers, holding up the keys dangling from his fingers. He turns his attention to Nesta, offering her a wink. “Don’t worry. She’s not driving.”

Lucien slides his hand into Elain’s, leading all three of them through the party and back toward the elevators. Nesta keeps her head down as she follows behind her sister and brother-in-law, and she certainly doesn’t bother to look back. Besides, it’s not like anyone is watching her. She’s quite confident a certain hockey player has already found some other poor, unsuspecting girl to capture his attention.

And as they take the elevators all the way down to the parking garage and back to the car, she vows to herself that she’ll never think of Cassian Valdarez ever again.

—

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[aka-indulgence]

Please do tell us more about the dealer. Perhaps how the two met or more about his personality? Love your writing btw and how you pulled me in to hyperfixate on him aswell.

I’ve been thinking of how they met for a while. At one point I’d imagine you’d play buckshot roulette… but I like the idea of you knowing each other before that point.

In my scenario, you work in the club he haunts. Maybe he owns the place but makes someone else run for him. All you know is that you don’t meet him when you get hired, but he’s a constant presence.

And people are scared of him enough that it’s almost like he isn’t even an… earthly entity.

“No you uh… don’t want to meet the boss. It doesn’t have a pretty face.”

You hear gunshots on the top floor. The first time you hear them you freak out, but everyone else in the club don’t seem to bother.

“It’s playing another round…”

You feel like someone who’s out of a secret, and when you ask, they only say two words.

“Buckshot roulette.”

From its name alone you get a good idea of what kind of game that is and feel a shudder. What kind of a man plays such a dangerous game every night…?

It isn’t a while until you meet the fabled…. person(?).

Sometimes a shadowy face looks down from the second floor. And you know it’s not the cigarette guy who always seems to hang up there.

Did you make eye contact? You can’t tell from all the way down here.

Then you meet him for the first time when he goes down for a drink. Turning around to see an awfully frightening face- you can’t help but scream. He doesn’t look human- you think!? With a grin full of knives, hollowed out sockets for eyes, and a shotgun strapped to his back, you’d think you were staring down the face of death (which, for certain people, it is).

And just to add to that, he has a hole staining blood down his messy shirt.

Your scream makes him pause- blink for a few seconds. Then he laughs- loudly, enough that it unnerves everyone else in the club. No one stares too long, no one wants to anger the guy(?) with a shotgun.

“You must be the new gal, aren’t you?”

That’s when you realize… this is The Boss.

“Be a lamb and grab me some beers.”

“Do you-? Are you… need… medical…”

You unknowingly endear yourself to the Dealer quickly, from how concerned you seemed, and rolling with the punches. Most people who’ve never seen him turn tail and leave, and here you were, doing your best to fulfill his request.

It makes him actually visit the club more often just to see you, sometimes encountering you on the way home and walking you to the nearest bus stop… and every time, he quickly disappears before anyone else sees him. He’s an enigma. You don’t know why he seems to linger around you, but if you’re making the boss happy, you see it as a win.

As for him, he’s quickly charmed by you, and enjoys your company. Actually gets disappointed when he finishes a game and finds you’d gotten home already. He wants you to stay around a long while. Hopefully, you’ll never have to play a round of buckshot roulette with him…

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Dial Tones - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This Contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You'd been waiting for sex in your relationship with Ethan, and after doing some other things with him before you left for college, you found yourself curious of what your boyfriend would do when he had the opportunity to have all of you.

Contains: m and f masturbation, phone sex.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing phone sex, and because I'm a sensitive baby, don't tell me if it sucks lmao. This was requested forever ago, and I'm thinking it could lead into the virgin!reader x virgin!Ethan fic I need to write👀 Let me know if y'all are cool with that haha.

P.S. - It's shorter than my normal stuff. I'm trying to figure out how to write phone sex💀

Before your left for college, your relationship with Ethan started to get a little…steamier. You weren’t fully ready for sex, and the furthest you’d ever gone was some oral stuff for him, and one night your shirt and bra came off while he rubbed you over your jeans, but Ethan was more than okay to wait for sex with you, because he loved you, and wanted you to be ready before you took things to the next level.

Once you were in different areas of the country, you were starting to regret not having sex with Ethan. You regularly found yourself thinking about his hands on you, and how loving he was, and how he never tried to push past the boundaries you’d set in place. He’d been so patient with you, even though he wanted it so badly.

You’d just got home from your last class of the day when you crawled onto your bed and pulled out your laptop to work on your assignments, when you heard your phone vibrating on the bed beside you. You quickly answered it once you saw Ethan’s name.

“Hey, babe,” you said, your sweet voice making him smile on the other end of the call. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” he sighed, “I’ve been missing you so much today.”

“Only two more weeks, and you’ll have me all to yourself,” you said, as he lightly chuckled.

“I can’t wait.” You could hear the happiness in his voice as he spoke. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, my roommate is already at some huge frat thing with the sorority she’s rushing. I was planning on doing homework until I eventually pass out,” you said, laughing a little at how uninteresting your Friday night plans sounded. “What are you doing tonight?”

“My roommate is out tonight, too. We’re both loners,” he joked, as you scoffed.

“Too bad I’m not there with you,” you said, your bottom lip going in between your teeth as you thought about it. “Just curious, what would you do if I was there with you?”

“I’d give you so many hugs and kisses,” he said, as you smiled at how sweet he was.

“Is that all you’d want to do?” you asked, the tone of your voice a little different than Ethan was used to.

“Oh, um, cuddling, of course,” he said, as you started to giggle.

“What else would you do, baby?” you purred, “Because I can think of so many things.”

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice a little heavier as he got more comfortable on his bed.

“I can’t stop thinking about your hands on me,” you said, as you closed your laptop and laid back. “And how good it feels when you kiss my neck.”

“I uh…,” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. You’d never tried to do something like this before, and he didn’t want to say anything to make you uncomfortable.

“Or how good it feels when you’re sucking on my nipples,” you said, as your hand started to teasingly run up your body.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed, as he started to get hard in his jeans. “When you’re ready one day, I’d love to have my mouth all over your body.”

“Tell me about it. What would you do?” you questioned, as you sat up to pull your shirt over your head.

“I’d start with kissing your neck, because I know how much you like it. Then I’d kiss you down your chest, and I’d pay so much attention to your sensitive nipples,” he said, his voice a little raspy. “Then I’d kiss down your tummy, and fuck, I know you’d be breathing so heavy.”

“Keep going, baby,” you said, putting your phone on speaker as you sat it down beside you to unhook your bra.

“Then I’d get you out of your jeans, and after I had those off your legs, I’d start kissing you from your ankles to your thighs.”

You took your jeans off, too, getting wetter by the second at all the things Ethan was saying to you.

“Then I’d start rubbing you over your panties,” he said, as you started to run your fingertips over the soaked material in between your legs. A small gasp slipped past your lips at the feeling, as the realization hit Ethan that you were touching yourself. “I bet they’d be so wet.”

“They are,” you teasingly said, as Ethan groaned. “I think you should take your pants off.”

“Okay,” he said, and you soon heard the rustling of him quickly getting out of them.

“How hard are you right now?” you asked, as he let out a deep breath.

“So hard.”

“What else would you want to do?” you questioned, “Because I need to hear a little more.”

“I’d get you out of those panties,” he said, as you slid them down your legs. You heard rustling again on his end, you assumed he was taking off his boxers. “And then I’d explore your pussy with my tongue.”

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, as your fingers started to roll over your needy bundle of nerves.

“What are you doing, baby?” he asked, his breath a little heavy as he waited for your answer.

“Touching myself, wishing it was your fingers instead of mine,” you admitted, a soft moan slipping past your lips when you started to move your fingers faster.

“I was it was mine too, baby. I wish it was your hand on my cock right now,” he groaned, “How good does it feel?”

You didn’t answer him, the moaning that was getting a little louder letting him know what he needed to know. His hand sped up, a bead of precum dripping out of his tip as he listened to all the sounds you were making.

“Finger yourself, baby,” he groaned, as you stopped your hand movements and slid one finger into your tight, dripping pussy.

You pumped that single finger in and out before you tried to add another one. You were so wet, but it was still difficult for you to get it in.

“I don’t know how you’re going to fit inside of me,” you said, whimpering as you stretched yourself out. “I can barely take two fingers.”

“Oh fuck, you’re that tight, baby?” he asked, as he started to jerk his cock even faster. “I’d take such good care of you. I’d make you feel so good.”

Your mouth dropped open as you panted, your eyes closing as you tried to imagine Ethan doing all the things you were doing to yourself. You remembered how good his hands and mouth felt on other parts of your body, and when you thought about his mouth and fingers on your pussy, you felt your orgasm starting to build. You knew Ethan was getting close, the soft grunts slipping past his lips sounding the same as when you were on your knees for him before you left for college.

“I love the way you sound,” he grunted, “You’re doing such a good job at fingering that tight little pussy for me.”

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, “Keep talking to me like that, please baby.”

“Oh, you like dirty talk?” he chuckled through his panting, as you whined in response. “I bet your pussy tastes so good. I can’t wait to have my tongue inside of you. I can’t wait to be the one to have you making all those pretty little sounds.”

Ethan kept talking, as you placed your other hand on your clit, rubbing fast circles as you pumped your fingers in and out, angling them just right. Your hips started to arch off the bed, your entire body getting so hot as you whined out, your orgasm washing over you as your shaky hands tried to keep moving.

“Did you just cum all over your fingers, baby?” Ethan asked, a low groan slipping out as he waited for your answer.

“Yes,” you shakily whimpered, as you slowly slid your fingers out of your pussy. “Now I need you to cum for me.”

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, your name rolling off his tongue as he shot his cum all over his chest and abs.

As you lay on your bed, catching your breath, Ethan was laying on his, hours away from you, doing the same. You couldn’t stop smiling, your brain still hazy when Ethan spoke up.

“That was so hot…can we do that again sometime?”

“We could…or you could experience the real thing in two weeks…” you trailed off, Ethan’s eyes growing wide at your words.

“Are you sure, baby? I told you, I’ll wait as long as you want,” he said, as you sat up to put your clothes back on just in case your roommate came home earlier than expected.

“I know you would, but I love and trust you, and I know you’d take care of me. I want to have sex with you,” you said, smiling as you thought about it. “If you’re ready, that is.”

“Oh, I’m ready.”

[holdinbacksecrets]

your writing makes me feel safe, thank you. if i could request something? it’s totally ok if you aren’t comfortable but i was wondering how you think seventeen would react seeing their s/o’s self harm scars? but not the act of doing it; i’ve just been feeling a bit unworthy because of my own from my past and my mind wandered (but absolutely no worries if this is out of your comfort zone. i know self harm scars can be a trigger for sure (and you don’t have to reply in that case either)) <3 thank you either way

thank you for sharing kind words and requesting! i'm sorry for taking over a year to answer this... hopefully you still see this >.< i also hope my interpretation of your request is ok. sending you all my love 🥺 i hope you’ve been feeling better these days. you’re deserving of all the good things

seventeen: seeing your self harm scars for the first time

tw: mentions of self harming (no details of the act itself) and scars

seungcheol: he’d trace them with his lips, allowing his love to sink into the scars and caress their edges. he’d ask if they still hurt—if the memories are still piercing

jeonghan: “you turned your scar into a butterfly?” “yeah, it always made sense to get a tattoo, and it’s a reminder that pain and discomfort are fleeting. i’m never stuck.” “you’ve always had a thing for flying, haven’t you?” “yoon jeonghan, i’d exchange my arms for wings if i could.” “you’ll need me for so much more than reaching things on the highest shelf.” “you’re right… not the most practical idea.”

joshua: walks with you through the park after seeing the small x on the kitchen calendar, marking the passage of another year, and the feeling is overwhelming as painful memories flood your mind

jun: “so these aren’t from a bike wreck?” “i can’t believe you remember that…” “everything you tell me… i can’t forget anything.” “it was only our second date. i didn’t want to scare you away.” “you wouldn’t have, but i understand why you worried. i wish you didn’t have to.” “what do you think you would’ve said? would’ve thought?” “i would’ve admired you. i can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to share with anyone, let alone a person you just started dating. i would’ve felt honored that you trusted me with something so… intimate, something that leaves room for conclusions being made that you aren’t in control of.”

soonyoung: he asks if you’re ok now and immediately wonders if that was too simplistic of a question, but he means it. he wants to know if you wake up and feel peace or dread. he wants to know about the cracks in your smile. he wants to know if you’re proud of yourself now. if you were before. if he can do anything to make the dreadful moments with forced smiles easier

wonwoo: thank you for being here is the last thing you hear before drifting off, carried away by a current of warm dreams

jihoon: he cries for you and his childhood friend with similar scars. a man he hasn’t seen in years but thinks about the last week of every october—reminded of his birthday, hoping he’s celebrating well

seokmin: he holds you. he doesn’t want to let go until his tears have stopped. he doesn’t want you to know that the thought of you harming yourself pierces his heart, stops his breath, stays heavy on his shoulders, and keeps him awake while you sleep

mingyu: he wants you to know that no feeling you meet will ever scare him away. you don’t need the reminder, but he tells you anyway: you can always come to me. he will be your solid ground, the maker of comforting words and sweet distractions

minghao: will you believe him if he says you’re the strongest person he knows?

hansol: he doesn’t know what to say, and he’s suddenly afraid of his ability to support you. he hopes you can’t tell because this moment isn’t about him. the last thing he’d ever want is for you to turn to another if he’s unable to give you what you need. “it’s ok. you don’t have to have the perfect words. they don’t exist. i just want you to know. i’m so much better now. i’ve never been happier, truly, but the words were starting to itch and pull me out of present moments. summer’s coming, and i know you’ll see them soon. i just want you to know.”

seungkwan: so many questions roll around in his head. they stick to the back of his throat, and he searches your eyes for any signs of the capacity you have for sharing in this moment. you smile softly and offer a nod of encouragement. he takes a deep breath and asks the first one

chan: “do you ever…” “think about doing it again? i do, but i made a list of things to do instead.” “can i hear it?” “make tea, watch the sky, turn music on, call a friend, think about something yummy to make for my next meal, ride the train and stop as close as i can get to the library… i have a playlist of seventeen videos on my phone too.” “you’ve thought about it that recently? y/n…” “i didn’t make the playlist for that purpose alone. it started out of missing you, but i know it’ll help if i start to slip.” “you can always call me. call me first and call again if i don’t answer.”

[mcflymemes]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE (2000) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

how shall i do it?

oh, is that hard to believe?

is this really the best you could do?

check out this piece of work.

i'm here because i received a summons.

word on the street is you can fix my problem.

the drinks were a bit on the warm side.

okay, i admit it. maybe i wasn’t as nice as i should have been.

do you really want to kill me?

so is everything ready for tonight?

i thought we’d start off with a soup and a light salad, and then see how we feel after that.

we’re about to go over a huge waterfall.

bring it on.

you got all that, honey?

what about dinner?

all right. a quick cup of coffee.

but what does that have to do with anything?

you’re sort of confusing me.

how did you get back here before us?

by all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.

i never liked your spinach puffs.

ah. should have seen that coming.

you know what, you could have told me that before i set it up.

now you stop being hard on yourself. all is forgiven.

it’s not the first time i was tossed out of a window, and it won’t be the last.

what can i say? i’m a rebel.

i can’t believe this is happening!

break the door down!

are you kidding me? this is hand-carved mahogany.

so you lied to me.

couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, huh.

why did i risk my life for a selfish brat like you?

i was always taught that there was some good in everyone, but, oh, you proved me wrong.

now i feel really bad.

you threw off my groove!

he didn’t pay his check.

this had better be good!

this is the last time we take directions from a squirrel.

yeah, like that would ever happen.

will you take a look at this?

oh, is that hard to believe?

just thought i’d give you a heads up.

what do you mean the door’s stuck? try jiggling the handle.

you’re the criminal mastermind here, not me.

just leave me alone.

it’s my birthday gift to me. i’m so happy.

hey, it doesn’t always have to be about you.

uh, he doesn’t really wanna talk to you.

hey, did you see that sky today? talk about blue.

don’t drink the wine.

our moment of triumph approaches!

oh, he’s doing his own theme music.

i’m so glad i was unconscious for all of this.

you’re not just gonna let him die like that, are you?

don’t listen to that guy.

if it were me, i’d march right back there and demand to see him.

you just saved my life!

believe it or not, i think i need a bath.

maybe i’m just new to this whole rescuing thing, but this, to me, might be considered kind of a step backwards.

i ate a bug today!

what is this guy babbling about?

i’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.

i gotta go wash something.

anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.

let me guess, you have a great personality.

thanks for going back on your promise!

how long has that been there?

someday you’re gonna wind up all alone, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

hmm. don’t know, don’t care. how’s that?

for the last time, it was not a kiss.

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Booty-Call Dare

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt “Impress”

I got the idea for this after an incredibly unproductive conversation at a bar lol

Warnings: language, sexual themes (but SFW)

Words: 963

You’re just proving my point, Rowan texted her in response to a selfie Aelin sent of herself eating pie.

“What’re you smiling at?” Lysandra teased from the other side of Aelin’s living room, which caught Elide’s and Fenrys’ attention.

She immediately wiped it off her face and gave an eye roll before giving her attention back to Rowan.

It has strawberries in it, Aelin texted back, defensive of her dessert choices. It counts as fruit.

Nice try. There was a brief pause before he sent, What’re you up to?

Not much. You?

She needed to cut this conversation short before Fenrys complained that she wasn’t focused on Girls’ Night—no one could pinpoint exactly how he started attending, but he was a constant in her monthly-ish reunions with Lysandra and Elide.

In response, Rowan sent her a picture. It was a mirror one, just the curves of his biceps and shoulders in front of rows of dumbbells.

A gym pic.

Are you trying to make me feel bad for all that pie I ate? What the hell was she supposed to say?

His response came lightning fast. I thought it counted as fruit.

“Holy shit,” Elide said from behind Aelin, right before snatching her phone and zooming in the picture. “He’s so trying to impress you with these.”

“Stop it,” Aelin hissed as she took her phone back.

It wasn’t a show-off picture like the ones Fenrys posts, it was casual. Rowan must be so oblivious he had sent her a not-so-friendly reminder of his very tanned biceps.

“What?” Lys asked.

“Rowan DMed her a gym pic!”

Fenrys choked on his pie.

Aelin crossed her arms, ready for it. Her friends had a problem of constantly reading too much into Rowan’s behavior when he was just being a good friend.

Fenrys held both hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t see through a dude’s heart, but I know when he wants his dick wet.”

Sometimes, Aelin wondered if things wouldn’t be different if she hadn’t been in a relationship when they met, in college. Still, she was glad for what they had now. “Rowan wouldn’t risk our friendship for a hookup.”

Fenrys sighed, a faraway look that indicated that he was in Philosopher Mode. “Having female friends is like raising chickens. Even if you never eat them, at some point you’ll look at them while you’re hungry and wonder.”

“Very well, then.” Aelin raised one brow up. “We’re friends.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you don’t think of me romantically.”

“No, ma’am.”

“But if I invited you to my bedroom…”

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. So would Rowan.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Aelin was confused, Fenrys never gave up like this.

“Alright,” he confirmed. “Call him now. Prove me wrong.”

“What.”

Lys and Elide cackled, then started a chorus of Do it! Do it!

Never one to back away from a challenge, Aelin squared her shoulders and unlocked her phone. “If I win, you’ll be demoralized and drop this subject forever. And if I lose…?”

Lys rolled her eyes. “You’ll fuck Rowan. I think this is a win-win scenario for you, Ae.”

But would she? She didn’t have much time to think about it, given the speed in which Rowan took her call.

“Hey, Fireheart.”

Her friends would mock her endlessly is she described Rowan as anything close to cheerful, but after being best friends for so many years, Aelin learned how to pick apart his undertones of grumpiness and yes, this was a happy one.

“Buzzard, hi.” The messy background noise from the call indicated that he was still at the gym. Good. She’d win this bet more easily if he was busy when she made the proposition—an idle brain is Hella’s playground. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Depends. Why’d you ask?”

“Um…” Aelin got up and paced around her small living room, and her friends watching on the edge of their seats didn’t help at all. “This might seem out of the blue, but I was wondering if you were up for… some Netflix and chill. You and me.”

This pause that felt like a lifetime was probably Rowan rewiring his brain after his best friend threw herself at him. Then, “Sure. There’s this new horror movie I thought you’d like. Or you wanna watch Gilmore Girls again?”

He didn’t want this. Rowan didn’t want it so bad he failed to recognize her proposal for what it was. The desire to hang up on him and disappear forever was overwhelming.

“No, not Netflix and chill. Netflix. And chill.”

A pause. “I’m confused.”

“I—“ Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose. This was harder than she thought. “Do you wanna bang?”

Rowan’s deafening silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“Fuck, um—“ Aelin grimaced. “I’m sorry. This was so stupid of me—“

“NO!” he interrupted. “S’okay. I— Um— Can you meet me in an hour? My place? Yours? D’youwannagrabdinner?”

“Um…” From the way her friends were grinning, Aelin’s blush must be visible from outer space. “Your place. I already ate. See you in an hour.”

“Cool.”

Aelin mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and hung up.

“I’m not even surprised.” Fenrys had a triumphant smirk on. “He’s doing cartwheels as we speak.”

Lysandra, the traitor, was laughing. “He’s setting off fireworks!”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Did he ask for that hour to shave?”

Aelin was frozen in place.

She had just scheduled a hookup with her best friend.

“Should I call him again to cancel?”

“Do you want to?”

No, she didn’t.

She had just potentially murdered their friendship, and Rowan seemed to be okay with it.

Aelin peeked under her shirt, cursed and ran to her room.

“I’m wearing granny underwear!”

If Aelin was about to ruin their friendship, she’d do it right.

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[glitter-soda]

I’d like to break down my current feelings and gripes about the trans movement, both to inform my followers and maybe start a discussion.

The vast majority of trans people are relatively normal and are just trying to live their lives in peace.

Trans women are trans women. They are male, and by definition it is much more accurate to call them men than women, but I do believe they are something of a separate category. The same goes for trans men, in reverse.

Definitions like “a woman is anyone who identifies as a woman” and “a lesbian is a non-man who’s attracted to non-men” are ridiculous and frankly offensive. The word lesbian is taken. It means “female homosexual”. Literally nobody is stopping you from making your own term, so stop trying to forcibly redefine ours.

Male socialization and female socialization both exist and are important. Trans women were socialized male and trans men were socialized female.

The sheer amount of vitriol towards “terfs” and anyone else who questions anything is just…disgusting. It’s acceptable to send them graphic rape and death threats, doxx them, assault them at protests, and celebrate when they get sick or die. I don’t know how to explain that that’s not normal fucking behavior, especially since “terf” is thrown around very casually these days.

Biological women should be allowed to have spaces that don’t include any males, regardless of the purpose. Lesbian bars, female only gyms, female only domestic violence/rape shelters, and literally anything else are fine and should be allowed to exist without being vandalized or threatened with shutdowns.

The former point includes female only sports teams. Males are biologically very different from females and it should’ve be offensive to anyone to say so. Both sexes have advantages and disadvantages over the other, it just happens that many sports are designed in a way that makes it easier for males to succeed.

Abolishing female only categories in award ceremonies, scholarships, and the like in the name of inclusivity is stupid and completely forgets the reason they were established in the first place. Male bias exists and women will almost never be included because of it.

I’m not against transitioning because I believe in total bodily autonomy and find language like “mutilation” to be incredibly gross and callous. However, I think it’s bad and dangerous to be presented as the literal only treatment for dysphoria.

Children who express any form of questioning or gender nonconformity should not be immediately assumed to be trans. A little girl saying “I want to be a boy” may mean “I want the freedoms that boys have and this is the only way I know how to express it because I’m six”. For actual trans kids, puberty blockers are dangerous and minors should only be allowed to socially transition.

The entire idea of being non-binary is frankly silly to me. I believe it to mostly be a poor coping mechanism for sexist stereotypes. Again, do what you want, but don’t expect me to take you seriously.

The way a lot of information and discussions that don’t support the current trans narrative are censored or lied about online is really bad and honestly borderline cult-like. Very few people actually know what radfems believe because people are discouraged from reading anything straight from the source. The Cass Review was picked apart in bad faith and many of the articles that “sum it up” are just straight up full of false information. Detransitioners are swept under the rug and told to shut up and stop trying to ruin things when they try to talk about their experiences. The trans community needs to do better.

And most importantly:

I do not want trans people dead. I believe in my heart of hearts that the vast majority of actual radfems and gender criticals do not want trans people dead. Neither ideology is hateful or inherently against trans people.

(Y’all just hate being told “no”.)

(Also I probably forgot something, so feel free to ask or discuss idk)

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 13

Masterlist

Warning: small amount of angst (talking about death, past trauma), mostly fluff, swearing, gay panic(both reader and Yelena are in love your honor)

Note: This has been my favorite chapter I've written so far this story.

Word Count: 3.5k

You understood why people rode motorcycles. There was no way to hear your thoughts over the engine’s roar. The whipping wind covered your arms and legs in goosebumps. As you swerved through traffic or made turns, your heart would pound. It was freeing. Yelena slowed down to a stop at a red light. “How are you doing, Easton?”

“Good,” you smiled. “Where are you taking me? You aren’t kidnapping me, right?”

“If I were, I would not tell you. That would be very dumb,” you rolled your eyes and pinched her sides. She yelped as the light turned. “You are so annoying.” You giggled and held onto her as she took off. This was oddly nice. At the moment, you weren’t a girl trying to beat a deadly disease. You were just a girl on the back of a motorcycle with no care.

*

“You brought me to an aquarium,” you said, a little shocked as you took the helmet off. Yelena helped you off the bike. Your legs were a little shaky.

“Yeah, you like to draw animals, so I thought it was a good idea,” she busied herself with locking up the bike, but you liked the blush that covered her cheeks. “If you want to go somewhere else, we can.”

“No!” You cringed at how aggressive that sounded. Yelena stood up with her eyebrows to her hairline. “I’d-” your phone started to ring and cut you off. Sighing, you pulled out your phone. It was Tony. You stared at it, weighing the options in your head. Either answer it and explain you’ll be back at the tower later or ignore the car, text him that the doctor’s appointment went well, and tell him you’ll talk later. You chose the latter and sent him a quick text. “I’d love to go with you,” you said to Yelena. “I may fact, ramble, so tell me to shut up if I’m annoying.” Yelena smiled.

“Never, I like listening to you talk.” It was your turn to heat up.

“Oh,” your voice cracked. Goodness, this woman was trying to kill you. Yelena chuckled and offered you her arm.

“Come on, Easton, let’s see if you know your stuff.”

*

“What the fuck is that?” Yelena asked, staring into the tank. You smacked her chest at her language as you saw some kids nearby. She looked offended, but you pointed at the kids. Rolling her eyes, she looked back at the creature.

“It’s an Atlantic sturgeon,” there was no need for you to look at the plague to know what it was. It was like that for all the animals you passed.

“I think you meant dinosaur,” you laughed and shook your hand.

“You are not wrong. They are considered living fossils,” you were looking at the creature swimming around, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yelena watching you, hanging onto every word you said. That also happened at every exhibit. Even though you were worried you were annoying her, she reassured you weren’t and to keep talking. That was different. You went to an aquarium with some girl you met online; she found you annoying after the first exhibit. You kept quiet after that. “There are over 28 species of sturgeon, and the earliest fossil was dated to the Late Cretaceous period.” You heard Yelena mumble, ‘So dinosaur.’ You smiled and continued, “Atlantic sturgeons were abundant but have declined due to overfishing, water pollution, and habitat impediments.” The blonde frowned.

“Why do humans suck?” You laughed as you moved to the next part of the aquarium.

“I think it stems from some of us believing they are entitled to an Earth that we share,” you shrugged. You were excited to walk through the tunnel and see the sharks. According to the pamphlet, they had a few black-tip reef sharks. “But conservation efforts have made positive efforts to undo some of the damage.”

“Do you think it’s enough?” You looked at Yelena. Her eyes were on the animal in front of her, but once again, she seemed a million miles away.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Over time, the scars may fade away, but the memory of what happened stays,” you sighed. “I don’t think that will ever go away.” You hated the sad look on her face. You pulled her to the next area, which focused on the restoration effects that the aquarium was part of.

“However,” it was perfect timing as an employee came out with a little penguin. The area soon became filled as everyone tried to get a look at the little creature. You watched Yelena’s eyes light up as the employee set the baby down and it waddled to its parents. You glanced at the temporary sign that explained what happened. The female penguin was rescued from a fishing net. She was pregnant, and her fin had to be amputated. The aquarium staff slowly introduced her to a lone penguin that wouldn’t mate. It was the aquarium’s first same-sex couple. “Even in the darkest times, something beautiful can emerge.”

You couldn’t help but look at Yelena. The blonde caught you staring at her, and her eyes glanced down to your lips, but she focused back on the penguins. You let out a shaky breath and pushed the thought of kissing her out of your head.

*

On the third phone call, Yelena couldn’t ignore her sister anymore. “Oh, so your phone isn’t broken,” she rolled her eyes at Natasha’s teasing comment. The blonde stepped to the side while you stayed at the touch pool. You tried to get her to touch some animals, but Yelena refused to put her hand in the water. “Did you kidnap her?”

“No!” Yelena huffed. “She came with me willing,” she sighed. “Okay, that sounded like a kidnapping plot.” Her sister laughed.

“You chose the wrong day to confess your feelings to her. Stark is annoyed.” Yelena thought that man was a giant toddler. Today was going perfectly, and she wasn’t sure if she would tell you anything. You needed a day away from doctor appointments and a reminder of what would come. You needed a day to smile, laugh, and see the beauty in life. Yelena wanted to give that to you.

“Look, I have a few more planned ideas, and Stark has called her three times. Can you get him off her back?”

“Will I be the maid of honor at the wedding?”

“Suka (bitch),” Yelena mumbled as her sister laughed again. “I’m doing this because her doctor appointment was not great.” She stopped laughing immediately.

“What do you mean?” So Yelena told her everything from the lie you told, refusing to use Morgan, and the next steps for your treatment. “Fuck, okay, I’ll deal with Stark. Just enjoy the day with your girl.”

“She is not my girl,” Yelena huffed. Natasha laughed, and Yelena hung up before her sister could say anything else.

“Here,” the blonde turned around and saw you with three bags from the gift shop. You were handing one of them to her. “I got you something.”

“Easton,” she whined. “I was going to buy you something.” You rolled your eyes.

“Just take the gift, Blondie,” she snatched the bag from your hand. Deep down, her heart skipped, and she was fighting to keep a smile off her face. “The dinosaur? Seriously?” She pulled out a stuffed sea demon from earlier.

“Sturgeon,” you laughed. “There is something else in there,” Yelena grumbled and opened the bag again. At the bottom was a small jewelry box. She opened it, and there was a ring inside. It was a simple silver ring with a turtle charm. “A ring to replace the one you gave me,” you explained. “Also, they donate a small amount of the proceeds to save turtles and,” you pulled out a small piece of paper from your pocket. “Every ring has a tracking number, so go to that website and track your turtle.” Yelena smiled. The turtles were her favorite part, and the face you picked up on that made her happy.

“Thank you. You did not have to get me anything,” you smiled, looking at the ground and shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s the least I could do for you taking me here. I had a lot of fun.”

“Well, the day isn’t over yet.”

*

A quick stop at her motorcycle to put away your bags, and Yelena gave you her jacket so you could walk by the water. You were grateful for the pockets to keep your hands to yourself instead of grabbing Yelena’s. “Do you want to know something funny?” You asked her. She nodded right away. “My mom was terrified of the water. She was so shocked that I was drawn to it,” she smiled at you. “I miss her,” you admitted. “Going through this without her sucks.” You felt your throat burn as you tried to keep your tears away. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to make this depressing.” You saw Yelena move her hand, and she whipped away a tear that fell down your cheek.

“Do not apologize for talking about her or your condition,” she said. “It is a part of who you are.” She stopped to pick up a seashell and handed it to you. You smiled and looked it over. It was a perfect cockle with different shades of purple. “The past can be complicated to talk about.” You slipped the shell in your pant pocket. You grabbed her hand instead of putting your hands back in the jacket. She smiled at it.

“You can talk to me about your past, too,” you told her. “I won’t force you to, though.” The blonde shrugged.

“There is not much to discuss,” she said. “I was trained to be a pawn in a man’s chess game.” You read the files on the Red Room that SHIELD had, so you knew a fraction of what she went through.

“But you are free now,” she nodded and kicked up some of the sand. You walked in silence until she sighed.

“I used to live in Ohio,” she said. “With Natasha and our parents.” You stayed quiet and allowed Yelena the space and time to speak. “It was a mission crafted by the Red Room, but it was the closest thing I had to a normal life. I was six when the mission was over.” Your heart broke for her. She was far too young to be subjected to such darkness.

“I bet you were a cute kid,” you said, knowing Yelena did not want your pity.

“Oh, the cutest,” you liked the smile that was now back on her face.

“And the biggest troublemaker,” you teased. The blonde gasped.

“I was an angel, a perfect child,” you rolled your eyes and dropped her hand.

“Keep telling yourself that, Blondie,” you pushed your fingers into her side and laughed at the yelp she let out.

“You are in for it now, Easton,” you took off running and heard her race after her. You felt privileged to listen to her laughter so unguarded and unrestrained. You wanted to hear it again and again.

*

You pulled Yelena into a small store while she led you to a nearby restaurant she found online. The reason was because you saw a small sketchbook from the window. It had a collage of pictures from the area. “Don’t you have enough sketchbooks,” the blonde teased you as you walked up to the counter with your sketchbook and a pencil.

“You can never have too many sketchbooks,” you left the store with your bag in hand. “And this sketchbook will remind me of our day today.” You smiled. Yelena’s face softened, and she grabbed your hand.

“Are you going to show me what you draw in it?” You shrugged.

“Maybe, Blondie, maybe.”

That is how you found yourself at a table with Yelena, whining to see your sketchbook. You finished your appetizers and were waiting for the main course. While you ate and talked about everything and nothing, you were sketching. It was nothing special; it was just basic line work of moments from your day. Later, you could add more details and color them. There were moments you couldn’t forget. The way her eyes lit up when she saw the penguin. Her smile when you got her the ring. You wanted to remember them forever.

“Come on, Easton,” she whined for the fifth time. “Let me see them,” you rolled your eyes and closed the book.

“They aren’t even started,” you sipped on your water. “I like to sketch out sides so I don’t forget them.”

“How did you get into drawing?” You smiled.

“My great-grandmother, actually. She died before I was born. She was an artist, and I thought she was the coolest person,” you explained. “So my mom got me an art set for Christmas. I feel in love with it.” Before Yelena could respond, the waitress approached the table with food. You both thanked her, and you took a pill to help with the nausea. If Yelena saw you take it she didn’t draw attention to it.

“So, can I see?” She asked and pointed to the book. She gave you perfect puppy dog eyes. With a shake of your head, you handed it to her. You observed her face as she flipped through the first few pages. The realization that you were drawing her dawned on her, and she set the book down.

“You are drawing me,” you nodded. “Why?” You wanted to give her many compliments, but they died on your tongue.

“My nana used to tell my mom to draw what inspires you,” you shrugged and focused on your salad. It’s easy to feel inspired when I’m with you.” You heard a surprise noise that came from the back of her throat. Her cheeks were light pink. “Making you blush is kind of cute, too.” The blush on her cheeks depended.

“You are so annoying,” she mumbled, throwing her straw wrapper at you. You laughed and focused on your food. It was so easy to act like this with her. It may be too easy.

*

The view was amazing. After dinner, Yelena drove back into the city and once again refused to tell you where she was taking you. It was far from the tower even though it was past 9 o’clock. Instead, she took you to one of the high-rise apartments where a young girl was waiting for you with extra jackets and gloves to let you in. So you stood on the apartment’s roof, leaning against the railing and looking at the city skyline. “Hot chocolate for you,” Yelena said, handing you a cup. You thanked her with a smile. She stood next to you, her arm barely touching yours.

“Why did you do this?” You asked. The question had been nagging at you since dinner. She shrugged.

“I wanted to,” you face her as she sipped on her drink. Finally, she sighed. “I saw you lose a little hope today at the doctor’s. He said for you to get through the nest phase, you can not lose that so,” she sipped on her drink again. “I was hoping today you would see something to help with that.” And she was right. It was annoying how easily the Black Widow could read you. During your appointment, you didn’t lose hope; you wanted someone to fight this battle for you. You wanted someone to hug you and not tell you it would be okay because that wasn’t certain. You wanted someone to be by your side through the good, the bad, and the ugly. You wanted her. That scared the shit out of you.

“You are supposed to be looking at the view,” she teased you. You weren’t sure how to tell her that you rather look at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to go through this alone to save yourself and her from the heartbreak.

Life has a funny way of testing you. Why did this disease have to bring you together? Soon, Yelena started leaning closer to you. Before your lips touched, you placed your hand on her chest to stop her. “What are you doing?” You questioned.

“I was going to kiss you,” she whispered. “Do you not want me to?” Oh, you wanted her to. You wanted to know what her lips felt like on yours or her hands on your waist. To finally feel her heartbeat against yours. But you couldn’t give her that. Instead of answering, you pulled away from her and ran inside. Running was something you excelled in. You ran from the pain of losing your mom and your friends. You ran to New York because DC reminded you too much of what was. So you went back to what you knew and ran.

“Wait,” Yelena called after you as you opened the door and threw your hot chocolate away. It was much warmer inside, and you pushed the elevator button. “Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t do this,” you pointed to the space between you and her. “While I’m going through this.” You refused to look at her.

“Because you are dying.” You nodded.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you,” the elevator opened, but Yelena stopped you from entering. “Let me go,” your voice cracked. It was pathetic how weak you sounded in your demand as if you never wanted her to let you go.

“Why do you get to decide what is fair for me?” She questioned. Finally, you looked at her. She has a determined look and a tighter grip on your hand. You’ve seen her like this only at training: determined, focused. When you stayed quiet, she continued, “I have thought about it. I understand the possible outcome, but what if you live and we wasted time because of fear,” your mouth became dry as you stared at her. “We all end up dying some sooner than others. Why should we let fear of dying stop us from living?” You licked your lips.

“I’m not afraid,” you weren’t. You told Pepper and Tony that. A small part of you was surprised you’ve lived as long as you had. You survived the car accident, the Blip, and a hurricane in the Atlantic. Still, you refused to die. It was like a bad joke that cancer was the thing that was going to kill you. Not the dangerous animals you faced, the unpredictable weather, and the less-than-safe places you visited as a solo female traveler. It was going to be cancer.

“I think you are, maybe not of death, and that is okay because I am afraid too,” she took a step closer, and your back hit the wall behind you. “But I have lost so many years because a man thought he was entitled to my body. I do not want to waste any more time.”

“I’m not afraid,” you repeated. Yelena softly smiled.

“Then prove it,” you rushed forward, your hands on her neck and your lips against hers. Her hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer to her. You could feel how fast her heart was beating, or maybe it was yours. You knew you were screwed as soon as your lips touched hers. They were soft and tasted of hot chocolate, the chapstick she used, and her dinner. You pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. You closed your eyes and tried to get your breathing under control. It was no surprise that she would leave you breathless.

“I don’t want to break your heart,” you admitted and opened your eyes. She closed them and let out a shaky breath that you felt against your lips.

“I do not want you to either,” she whispered. “But if you do, then I am glad I gave my heart to you to break.”

*

You snuck back into the tower and onto Yelena’s floor. Her hand held tightly onto yours. It was impossible not to follow her. Her apartment had a similar layout to yours but not as decorated. You had no time to look around as she dragged you into her bedroom and gave you some of her clothes to wear. Once you changed and your teeth brushed, you lay under the covers of her bed with her head on your chest. You chuckled. “What’s so funny, Easton?” She asked.

“Nothing,” you ran your fingers through her hair and felt her melt against you. “I didn’t like you’d like to be the little spoon.” You felt her tense. “Noting wrong with that,” you reassured her. “Everyone deserves some cuddles.” Yelena sighed, and you felt her fingers grab your free hand.

“I like listening to your heartbeat,” she whispered. “It is comforting.” Who would have thought that a Black Widow was such a softie? You smiled and kissed her head.

“Thank you for today,” you said. “I forgot how much I miss enjoying life with another person.” She stayed quiet, and that was okay. You figured today was a lot for the blonde, but the silence was comforting and less lonely.

_

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @wandaromamoff69, @simpforyelenabelova, @cd-4848,

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Never Before (Vox x Retro!Reader)

CW: NSFW, electrocution, suggestive content (I guess). Uh. I think that’s it? Let me know if I need to add anything.

“Sweetheart,” Vox murmured in my ear. “Do you know how stunning you look tonight?”

“Mm,” I smiled as he nibbled my ear lobe, then laughed and gave him a kiss. “I do now,” I said softly.

“Oh? I haven’t told you already? Well, that just won’t do,” he said, leading me to the bed. He grinned as I wrapped my legs around his torso, keeping him close. He reached over and started to undo the first few buttons to my shirt. “I’ll have to make it up to you, won’t I? Maybe I’ll have to shower you with all the love and affection and compliments you deserve. It’d be rude of me not to, you know.”

“Vox!” I said lightly. I gave him a playful nudge, then kissed him again. “Ah, you’re so cute!” I said, feeling giddy. I gave him a flurry of quick soft kisses across his screen and grinned. “I love you,” I said softly, in between kisses. “I love you!”

“I love you too, my dear,” he said softly. He chuckled and finished unbuttoning my shirt, then tried to take it off. I let him, not minding too much. I wanted to be near him right now, to be close, to show him how much I loved him. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, trailing his hands gently along my bare skin.

“Thank you,” I said, a slight blush creeping into my cheeks. I grinned and kissed him again, starting to unbutton his shirt. I trailed my hands along his bare chest gently, and started giving him small kisses along his neck and shoulders as I took his clothes off.

“Aw, you’re affectionate tonight, aren’t you?” He asked playfully. He gripped my waist tightly for a moment, then continued to roam his hands across my body. “Would you…?”

“Hm?” I asked lightly, looking at him. I paused my movements to give him my full attention.

“No, don’t stop,” Vox said quickly, moving my hands back to where they were. “Please, keep going. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” I said with a soft laugh. I slid his shirt off his shoulders and kissed him gently. “You like this?” I asked, trailing my fingers gently along the ports in the back of his head. Small electric shocks went through me every time I touched them, but I didn’t mind. I’d gotten used to it. It was like a small kiss, to me.

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, pressing himself against me. “I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said. I pressed my finger into one of his ports, a more sensitive one, and got a bigger shock. I froze and my body convulsed for a moment. “Fuck!” I said, once I’d gotten a hold of myself.

“S̸h̶i̶t̴, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I said with a grin. I waved him off. “Great, actually. That felt good.”

“Are you sure? It felt… good?” He asked, looking worried. He was trailing his hands along my body, looking at me, inspecting me, making sure I was okay. “You liked that?”

“Yeah… I think I did,” I said, with a nod. I thought for a moment, then went back to trailing my fingers along his ports. I earned myself the usual small shockwaves, which felt nice. He froze for a moment, his screen flickering. He made a noise and his grip on me tightened. “Vox?” I asked gently. I was about to move away when he grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“D̷o̶n̵’̴t̵ ̶s̸t̸o̴p̵,” he said, his voice distorted. “Please. Ke-keep g̶o̸i̶n̵g̷.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Are you…” I trailed off and kept touching him, like he’d asked. He moved me around, twitching and jolting slightly as he readjusted our positions. I did my best to keep up and move as he wanted me to, and I was relieved when he seemed satisfied.

“A̵g̸a̸i̸n̶,” he said, his face a mess of static and distortions of his expression. “Please.”

He ran his hands along my body gently, reassuring me he was fine. I gave him a nervous smile and slipped my fingers in his ports again. Bigger shock than before, left me gasping for air.

“Ȯ̸̪͒h̴͈̻̓̔ ̵̖̬̈́f̶̻̎͘ǘ̸͖̚c̶͕̄͘k̶̯͗̆ Y̵e̶a̴h̵,” he said, pressing his hard length against my stomach. “̷K̷̷e̷ ̷K̷̷e̷̷e̷̷p̷ ̷g̷̷o̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷!”

I grinned and trailed my fingers along his ports gently, teasing him. “You want more?” I asked playfully. He made a noise in response, but all I could make out was distorted static and white noise. He unbuckled his belt and quickly tried to take off his pants, and that’s when I understood what he was getting at. “Oh. Ohhhh,” I said softly. I smiled and pressed my fingers in three specific ports, a bit deeper than before. Shocks surged through my body, my muscles tensing and convulsing involuntarily. I could hardly form a coherent thought. “Ha!” I said, laughing softly when I snapped out of it. “You feel amazing, Voxxy.”

“C̴a̴r̴e̷f̷u̷l̷,” he said, softer. He paused for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t want you to get hurt, my dear.” Even as he spoke, though, he was tugging at my belt loops, pleading for more.

“Vox,” I said, slightly breathless. “I, uh… you should know…”

He stopped and pulled away a little, collecting himself. “Yeah?” He asked, his screen returning to normal. Mostly. It was still flickering a bit, and it had a pink tint to it. “Is something wrong, darling?”

“No, no, I just- god,” I sighed, my face heating up already. “It’s not- nothings really wrong, I just- it’s- there’s this thing that I’ve- I have to tell you something.”

“Something? What is it?” He asked gently. He ran his fingers through my hair and tilted my face so I’d look at him. “Darling?”

“I just- uh- fuck, sorry,” I mumbled. I looked away, then made myself look back. I blushed and looked away again, but he held my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. His expression was soft, kind. “I just.. I’ve never- I’m not- I don’t exactly have experience…”

“Oh,” he said softly. “Oh. Oh! Oh, wait- wait, wait, what?”

“Mnphgh,” I mumbled covering my face with my hands.

“Sweetheart, darling,” he said quickly, covering himself a bit. He reached over to comfort me with his touch, but hesitated. “Is this… is this too much? Do you… do you want to…?”

“No! No, no, I’m fine, I do,” I said immediately, pulling my hands away from my face. I looked at him and leaned closer, trailing my fingers along his collarbone. “I just… I thought you should know.”

“So… we’re okay?” He asked, leaning into my touch. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah! Yeah,” I said with a nod. I gave him a small kiss and smiled. “Let’s do that.”

“Good- great!” Vox said brightly, pressing himself up against me again. He grinned and held me close. “God, I love you so much. I just want you to touch me like that again.”

“Mm,” I said. “I might just make you beg next time.”

“Beg?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, if you want me to beg, I’ll get on my hands and knees for you.”

[venusforfran]

Another WIP for a Radiorose fic <3

"Darling, did you poison this one?" Alastor squinted as he raised his teacup, turning his wrist to swill the liquid around.

"Course I did!" Rosie shouted from the next room, with the air of a mother irritated that her child couldn't find something in plain sight.

"Oh good, just checking," he called back, chuckling under his breath, and took a sip.

The smell of peppermint tea filled the room, tangy and sweet. Adorned with pinks and reds, lace curtains, and ornate furniture—a sanctuary unmistakably Rosie's. Alastor raised his teacup, draped over the chaise lounge, and glanced over to the woman herself. She had been staring, eyes squinted out onto the boulevard through the scarlet glass for the past few minutes, squeezing her palms together in quiet worry.

A faint buzzing of Irving Aaronson's "Let’s Misbehave" emanated from between his teeth, and he hummed along, basking in the scarlet glow of a hellish morning. The room was incredibly Rosie, all lace and skull motifs.

A gentle smirk tugged at Alastor's lips as he placed the teacup on a coaster adorned with macabre motifs.

"Dear, if this is your attempt at domestic bliss, you're doing a devilishly good job," Alastor called out, a glint of amusement in his eyes as Rosie entered, wiping her hands on a hastily fashioned apron.

A silence stretched between them, fading strains of music crackled away into static.

"What's on your mind, my dear?" Rosie sucked in her breath, reaching up to adjust her hat and stared at him. He sat up, eyebrows furrowed.

"Just wondering some things, you know?"

"What ever about?" He was trying to focus on the bustle outside, almost shying away from her eyes.

"Since you got back from your… sabbatical. Well, Al, you know I ain't one to pry-"

Alastor chuckled nervously, his eyes crumpling just a little too much, his laugh a little too sharp.

"Shut it, I may be lousy with men but- Oh! You're making me lose my train of thought now! Listen, Al, I care about you. You know that. Way more than I probably should-" She smiled softly and sat down next to him. "And you know I haven't asked in what, months now, although you've been holed up in that hotel-"

Alastor didn't like where this was going, but he could keep it together as well as the next gentleman. He followed her words with the anxious eye a deer gives to a shot in the woods.

"What I’m getting at, my dear, is-" she lowered her voice to a whisper "Can you tell me what happened, maybe?"

He dipped his head. Unease pricked beneath his facade. Alastor paused, then offered a partial truth. "You're perceptive as always, Rosie. A gentleman must have his secrets, no?”

“You know I’d never press you, but I promise I ain't the one to gossip, not about your troubles Al. Who’d I tell? You again?” Rosie said.

“I know, I know.” He’d fallen unusually silent, his eyes skittering across the ground, searching desperately for some way to change the topic, but this was Rosie, she wasn't one to drop it.

“Alastor, I ain't gonna give you the cold shoulder. No judgments here.” She tilted her head.

He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper "It's not about judgment, Rosie. It's about... about what might happen if I told you.”

Alastor lifted his head to meet her, his eyes were glassy and lacking. “I’ve done something really stupid, Rosie.”

Rosie's expression softened as she observed Alastor's demeanor, sensing the weight behind his words. She reached out a hand, resting it gently on his forearm, offering a comforting gesture.

"Alastor," she said softly, her voice carrying a blend of concern and empathy, "whatever it is, I won't breathe a word of it to anyone else. You're more than just a friend to me, you're basically family."

Her eyes searched his, filled with sincerity and warmth.

This finally broke Alastor, that kindness staring back at him. If only she knew. How much of a mistake he’d made. He forced himself to look away, to just stop thinking.

to be continued :)

Note: I know the writing is awful, but this is just a chance for me to write some fluff between the idiots. Its the first time writing a fic :))

[vinnyandthephenomena]

i like to think of jam as such a “would you love me in another universe” type of relationship. or what could’ve been? that’s what feels so tragic to me. like - jay could’ve been the only other somewhat close relationship tim had in his life other than brian. or if they had met under different circumstances, would it have been healthier? or even how jay felt? he said it himself he wasn’t exactly doing anything pre-mh. hmm. he felt less alone; but i can only wonder how else it could’ve gone if they were close in another scenario. or ; if they could’ve met in a less depressing part of their lives. they are like a book with the last pages ripped out!

[donnatroyyyy]

Batman has/had some kind of miscommunication going on with every single one of his kids. The bat family is just one big miscommunication trope after the other.