#look at me reading two nonfiction books in a row

[longlive2023]

reading the immortal life of henrietta lacks now

[cinnamoneve]

could you write prompt 16 with getou please?? thank you !!

baby i forgot about this event so bad but im back ₊˚⊹⋆

prompt #6 -“did you know you’re famous in my group of friends?”

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ "bookstore girl" by charlie burg

part of my off the record requests: masterlist | make a request !

thank you for your patience and love <;3

suguru geto would never consider himself a hopeless romantic, per say.

maybe he believed in soulmates, longed for true love, or perhaps his thoughts on ‘love at first sight’ were dubious, at best.

he was private about it all. notoriously hard to read and moderately private, suguru’s thoughts on love were his own to keep.

until he met you, that is.

yaga tasked poor suguru with a little bit of an unconventional task for a jujutsu tech student, which was to head into the city and study like a ‘normal’ student his age would. buy a textbook, a nonfiction book–anything, really–sit in a coffee shop, study the people around you and enjoy it. enjoy yourself.

immersion was the goal overall. study people better, understand them. live like them.

although that’s what yaga said, all suguru heard was ‘be normal.’

he could try for a day, he thought. it was stupid, but he did say he’d try.

so he left the jujutsu tech uniform at home, opted to dress down for the day, and took the train into the city on a quest for a local mom-and-pop bookstore.

which he found, eventually. nestled on the corner of two quiet backroads, suguru ducked into the first tiny bookstore he could find. all of the rows of gently loved novels towered above him, and the smell of the worn pages was intoxicating. 

he wasn’t sure if he’d ever experienced anything like it in his life; it was a total overload of his senses. it was warm there, but not physically. warming would be the better word. he was overwhelmed on where he should start looking first.

“welcome in!” 

a soft voice echoed in the rows of books–and there you were.

suguru couldn’t help but stare. you were sorting through returns, sitting at the desk in the back of the shop, playing some music out loud.

“thank you,” was all he could mutter out.

“looking for anything specific today?”

“just browsing,”

you smiled sweetly at him. maybe the warmth was coming from you all along.

“let me know if you need anything,”

you looked back down at the book you were checking in, not noticing the way his eyes lingered a little bit too long on you. 

suguru pushed on through the store, not sure where to begin. he was thinking more about you than whatever yaga told him to pick up. he settled on sociology books, thinking that they’d give him more of an insight on humanity.

so immersed in the appendixes and summaries of his choices, he barely heard you sneak up into the aisle with your little book cart to put away some returns. he snapped out of it when he focused in on the way you were gently humming to yourself, checking the number on the spine before you found its home.

“actually, could i ask you something?”

you put down the book you were rehoming as you looked at the man in front of you. “mhm, sure,”

“do you have any…normal books?” he knew it was stupid the second it came out of his mouth. you tried not to laugh as you cocked your head slightly at him, as if it would help you understand it better.

“hmm…can’t say we do…” you started, “what do you mean ‘normal,’? like…what’s popular now?”

a way out. it wasn’t what he meant, but it was better than whatever he was trying to say. 

“yeah, sorry, that’s what i mean; where can i find those?”

“right this way,”

you lead him through the shop, navigating the rows and rows like the back of your hand. it seemed you were the only two people in there at the moment. he could tell he was at the back of the shop by the way your music softly played.

“here’s some of our best sellers at the moment,” you stopped to pick one up from the pile, “i really liked this one! the characters are really interesting and so realistic, and the writing isn’t too bad either. what were you looking for specifically?”

suguru took the book from your extended hand, feeling the weight shift as he held it. 

“this is perfect, actually, i’ll take this one,”

“sure thing, let me check you out,” you scurried back to the desk, continuing to hum along with your music as it came back into earshot. “buying or renting today?”

suguru thought about it. he had the money to buy it, and it would save him a trip. but renting it would give him another excuse to see you. he’d already made up his mind before you even asked the question.

“rent, please,”

nodding, you had him fill out the rental agreement as you finished ringing him up. giving him his book and receipt, you smiled and leaned over the desk.

“thanks for coming in, you’ll have to let me know if you like it or not,”

he felt his heart melt, just a little bit. he thanked you and promptly left, kicking himself that he didn’t even get what he was assigned to. he shrugged it off though, found a cute cafe to match, and read the book you recommended to him.

suguru was so engrossed in it. the sun was quickly setting on a busy tokyo as he hopped on a train back to jujutsu tech, thinking about nothing but you and the book he’s come to love.

satoru was on him as soon as he returned.

“get a lot of studying done today, suguru?”

“something like that,” this piqued that white haired man’s interest.

“what do you mean ‘something like that?’” he laughed, “you were gone for hours!”

“i couldn’t really focus,” he starts, “i got a book, and i read it, but i wasn’t really reading it, you know?” satoru raised an eyebrow.

“what’s really goin’ on,” he teased. suguru sighed. nothing gets by satoru’s nosey ass. 

“there’s this girl…” suguru confessed. and satoru listened. suguru told him all about you. the music you played, your sweet demeanor, the way that you recommended him a book, how you hummed softly along to the songs blaring out from the desk. suguru spared no details, down to the shirt you were wearing that he loved.

“she told you to tell her what you thought of it? the book, i mean?”

“mhm,” suguru nodded, gently carding through the pages of the book.

“well, man, now you gotta go back there,” 

satoru let the silence linger a bit before heading back to his own room for the night. “just finish that damn book quickly.”

suguru pushed his lips out, laying flat on his bed as he looked at the book next to him. maybe, unfortunately, satoru was right, and he should visit again. he picked up the book, finding where he left off to settle in with it for the night.

by morning, satoru’s big mouth had spread the news of his friend’s little crush to all of their friends. while you were just starting your day at the bookstore, suguru was trying to brush off your celebrity status among the students at jujutsu tech.

“going to see your bookstore girl today?” shoko’s voice was as nonchalant as ever, looking up at suguru as he headed out for the day.

“who knows,” he lied. suguru was heading out with only the book in his hand. he paid a little bit more attention to his outfit, made sure his hair was neat, and caked himself in cologne. 

who knows. everyone knew, actually. something about love made suguru a bit more careless than he usually would. he tried so hard to downplay what he was feeling, but he was bursting with excitement as he left.

“oiiii~” a familiar man with sunglasses yells from the yard, “maybe get her name this time, romeo~”

suguru didn’t turn around.

but he thought about it on the train. something about the mystery was sweet to him. he lives his own life, and you do yours. he didn’t need to know your name to know that he liked you. 

the door chimed as he walked inside. the warmth of your voice shone through the aisles of books. 

“welcome in!”

he headed to the back, following your voice like you were a siren. 

“oh, hello again,” you smiled at him. “back already?”

“yeah, actually, i really liked it,”

“was it ‘normal’ enough for you?” 

suguru felt the tips of his ears get red. you remembered him. you remembered his incredibly stupid choice of words. but he smiled.

“it was. i can see why you like it. the characters are really realistic, i think it was well done.” he put the book on the counter, letting you take it and look at it more as the two of you chatted about it.

“if you liked this one, you might really love another one by the same author…” 

his eyes followed your body as you got up to another area of the store, talking about how the metaphors follow through the entire series, how the characters are shaped by one another, how–

“sorry, i’m rambling,” you giggle, “you don’t have to follow my recommendations if you don’t want to,”

“no, it sounds interesting,” he smiles back, “i’ll rent this one too,” 

“perfect,” you beam. and you check him out, humming again to your music, oblivious to the man across from you checking you out in a different way.

“here you are! i’m excited to see what you think of it,” 

he nodded, heading out as he thanked you again, holding the book a little bit closer than he normally would. suguru walked to the same cafe as yesterday, sitting down and losing himself between the lines of whatever you recommended him. time passed, the sun set, and he caught the train home.

satoru was standing in the hall, heading to bed when suguru came back.

“don’t wanna hear it, satoru,”

“i didn’t even say anything yet~” 

suguru shut his door and laid in bed. he can’t go back tomorrow, right? maybe the next day, he wasn’t sure.

but it became his routine. he’d head out to go see his aptly named ‘bookstore girl,’ ranting and raving about the books you’d recommend to him as you gushed about the next one he should read. you two slowly learned about one another, in a weird way–solely through the books you shared. 

you exchanged ones that you’ve annotated and wrote small messages for him in the margin. he’d give them back with notes of his own, answering your sweet little notes with an observation of his own. 

suguru didn’t care much for reading, but he cared a lot about you. he’d practically memorized your shifts, the hours of the bookstore, and the time of day when it’d be quieter. still, he could not recall your name to anyone.

pressured by his friends, he went into the city on a sunny sunday to ask you on a date once and for all. after you’d told him about the latest short story by a poet you like, suguru brushed off his nerves and went for it.

“do you want to maybe…grab coffee sometime?”

you smiled a bit as you felt your cheeks get hot, but you tried to play it cool,

“i’d love that, actually,”

“you work until 3, right? maybe 4pm then?”

“the shop closes at noon today,” you smirked.

suguru knew that. he’d been here dozens of times. he knew the hours like the back of his hand. why was he so uncharacteristically nervous?

“i’ll wait for you to close up then,” 

“it’s a date,” you smiled.

suguru didn’t get what his poor teacher told him to. he wasn’t sitting in a coffee shop watching people, or studying people in the way that yaga instructed. suguru felt closer to humanity in a way, though, as he watched the cute girl behind the desk counter hum along to her music as she always did, a slight blush painting her cheeks in anticipation for her date.

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Light Up My Life (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Light Up My Life (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Brief language and some suggestive situations, but mainly fluff!

Summary: For Stevemas Day 12; Your and your boyfriend, Steve, have been dating for some time. Although time has never been on your side, the two of you are determined to spend the holiday together this year. When you decide to have an early Christmas date night, Steve comes up with a way to make it even more magical...

You sighed to yourself as you stared over the counter to the parking lot outside, hands toying with a random piece of scrap paper. The sun had just started to set for the night, casting shadows against the asphalt and sending vibrant hues of orange sunlight through the windows. For the Christmas season, you would think the bookstore would be even busier. People would pass in and out to pick up whatever cheap new release there was for the friendly bookworm. Come January, loyal customers would come in to exchange the attempt to connect for the new book title they were really interested in.

Except this year, it seemed paperbacks were replaced by whatever the latest technology was. Even Dustin Henderson had charted a new course on his voyage of curiosity that all but left the world of Dungeons and Dragons guides and physics textbooks behind. Mrs. Peterson was the lonely lingering customer in the corners of bookshelves. Her eyes flickered between a paperback copy of The Dead Poets Society or a leather-bound collection of Emily Dickinson’s works. 

She was one of your regulars, the bookworms with heart, as you called them. Every Christmas, Mrs. Peterson would show up to the store with a mission to find the perfect book for every person on her shopping list. 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you crossed the store to help her. “Mrs. Peterson,” you called over. “Doing some last-minute shopping? Anything I can help you with today?”

“Oh, hello dear!” the older woman glanced up from the covers with an endearing smile. She held out the two books in your direction. “I’m trying to find something for my great-niece, Dariah. She wasn’t supposed to be coming to Christmas dinner, since she needed to fly in all the way from California. She started college there, did I tell you? Southern California University…no, wait. That isn’t quite it.” 

She paused to raise an index finger to her lower lip in thought. A moment later, Mrs. Peterson’s face lit up as she gave a small exclamation. “University of Southern California! Yes, yes,” she jabbered on with an eager series of nods, “that’s it! She’s been studying literature there. Told me herself that she wants to get published, maybe even work in the publishing world.”

“Oh wow, that’s fantastic, Mrs. Peterson!” you tried to sound excited for the older woman. Truly, you did. “You must be so proud! California isn’t a bad place to study.”

You glanced over to the large clock affixed to the wall by the checkout counter. 6:55, it read. Your boyfriend was supposed to pick you up after close – sometime after seven o’clock. He worked across the street at the local video rental store, Family Video, so it wouldn’t be too far of a trek. The last thing you wanted, though, was for him to have to sit and wait for you to finish with a customer. 

“Yes, well,” Mrs. Peterson agreed, “but I wish she didn’t live so far away and then decide to come home on a spur of the moment. Now I’m having a hard time figuring out what to get her.”

“Hmm.” You let your eyes wander around the store, the seemingly endless rows of books new and old. You tilted your head and started to walk through the shelves, dodging and weaving until you found the nonfiction section. Personally, you never really visited this section for leisure, but you had a vague idea of what hidden gems lurked amongst the shelves. “You mentioned she was looking to be published?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Peterson replied. “She’s always been writing ever since she was a child. I mean, the stories she’s come up with–”

 “I’m sure they’re lovely, Mrs. P,” you tried to politely reroute the conversation back to the original topic. Reaching up, you plucked a dark-blue covered book and held it out to the woman. “On Writing Well by Micheal Zinsser. It was published just this year and we’ve already had numerous orders of it from the local universities. She might get something out of it in terms of writing.”

As she took the book from you, she gave a small tut of appreciation. “Oh thank you, dear. Somehow you always know exactly what I’m looking for.”

You chuckled and shrugged your shoulders, taking the other two books from her hand and walked over to place them back in their rightful places. “Sometimes it’s less about finding the perfect book for a person, and more about the perfect person for the book.” You gestured vaguely over your shoulder toward the register. “What do you say we get you all checked out and you can head home to finish up those last-minute preparations for Dariah, yeah?”

“I mean it, dear,” the woman said as she walked over to the counter. “I don’t know how you manage to do it every time. You’re quite the young person. More people should be like you.”

“Well,” a familiar voice cut into the conversation, “as much as I appreciate your compliments here, Mrs. Peterson, if there were more people like your favorite employee over here, I would be a very jealous man.”

You glanced up to catch the hazel-eyed stare of your boyfriend leaning against the front door of the shop. He jerked a thumb toward the handle. “You forgot to lock up. Gotta be careful, sweetheart. You never know who will come barging in after hours.”

“Oh, Steve,” Mrs. Peterson smiled as you rang up her purchase, “you’ve found yourself quite the keeper.”

“That I have, Mrs. Peterson.” Steve said as he strode into the store. He ducked down under the counter flap to wrap his arms around your waist and placed a resounding lip smack against your cheek. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

You shivered at his show of affection, which caused Mrs. Peterson to chuckle. “Don’t let this one slip away.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on letting this one go for a long, long, long time,” your boyfriend promised. 

You turned your head to catch his gaze. “A long, long, long time?” you teased.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

A hot flush crept up your neck and tickled your cheeks. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed by his comments. Steve had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. He never did it to make you uncomfortable. Over the last five years you dated, you had come to find that every word he said he meant. The fact that someone would say these things about you, much less mean what they said, was difficult to comprehend at times. It had only taken a few months for the first “I love you” – something that you had never done before. But with Steve, it was easy. 

He made things easy and you could spend every day finding new ways to fall in love with him. 

“Get ready for the long haul, then, Harrington,” you mumbled as you reached over the counter to hand a receipt to Mrs. Peterson and waved goodbye. 

Your boyfriend hummed and sent his own goodbye to your customer, opting to stick his face into your neck once the door shut behind her. Another thing you learned about Steve over the years was how clingy he was. No matter what you were doing together, Steve always had to touch you in some capacity. A hand clasped in your as you shopped for groceries in town, lips pressed to your temple as you sat in his lap while Dustin explained his latest theories. His fingertips would slide their way up under the hem of your shirt when he was just standing next to you, tracing random shapes into the skin. 

“Ready for our date, sweetheart?” Steve mumbled into the junction of your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the area and hummed when he felt you shiver under his touch. 

“Just about,” you responded absentmindedly. “Just have to clean and lock up before we can go.”

“I can help.”

You shot him a frown, eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You sure?”

Your boyfriend nodded and released you from his grip to pick up a stack of books off the counter. “Babe,” he said with a tsking sound, “I sort tapes for a living across the street. I think I can manage a few books.”

“Yeah, but there’s a certain order-”

“I got this,” Steve tried to calm you. “Go get ready to lock up. The lights of Loch Nora are waiting for us. Don’t want them to burn out before we get there, yeah?”

A little hesitant at first, you finally agreed to give Steve a stack of books meant for the fiction section. Your hope was that even if he didn’t recognize or understand the sorting system of the store, he would at least be able to rely on his skills from the video store to help him out. To no one’s surprise, Steve handled the stack with ease. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t waited a moment just to take in the view of his chin holding the stack in place, his free hand putting book after book back on the shelf. 

“Hey babe?” he called out after a few moments of sorting. “Where’s your horror section?”

“Over by the romance.” You used the stepstool to replace the leather copies of The Hobbit and Fellowship on the collectors’ shelf. Why your boss thought it would be a good idea to sell ninety dollar editions of the classic stories was beyond you. None of your typical Hawkins customers could afford it, unless they won the lottery. “Don’t ask me to explain the system. They’re just in the same area.”

“Aaaaaaand done!” Steve clapped his hands together and emerged from the back of the store a moment later, a small paperback clutched in his right hand. “Hey, do people really read this shit?”

At first, you couldn’t tell what the book was. Being in a literal bookstore made it difficult to narrow it down. However, when Steve held it up to the light, you caught sight of the title and your stomach dropped: After the Stars Fall. The cover image was simple enough, depicting a man and a woman as they embraced in front of a fireplace.

“I, uh,” you stuttered. “I think we’ve sold a few of those. Not recently, though. It’s a couple years old.”

“Huh.” Steve glanced down at the book in his hands. “Is it any good?” 

Even though you hadn’t read the book yourself, you knew the reputation these novels had. Karen Wheeler in particular always seemed rather flustered whenever she picked up her latest installment. You thought that was a pretty clear sign to steer clear until the later stages of life. 

“I mean,” you chuckled half-heartedly, “those two look pretty cozy. Probably just got some quiet time by the fire after they put the kids to bed. Domestic bliss; must be nice.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve’s voice sounded distant. When you glanced back up at him in concern, you noticed he was staring at you. Yet, as you looked closer, you noticed he was staring past you. He was lost in a dreamworld of sorts, allowing his mind to wander in ways you would most likely never understand. 

“Steve?” you asked timidly, hand placed against his bicep. “Babe, are you okay?”

 All of a sudden, Steve flinched and his eyes flickered to yours. A smile graced his features as he nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Yeah,” he soothed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Let me go start the car and we can go, alright? Don’t want you freezing that cute little butt of yours off waiting for the heat.”

You laughed and gave a little wink as you walked to grab your jacket from the back room. “Something tells me I’d have something else to help keep me warm.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

Growing up in Hawkins, one could find themselves becoming desensitized to the small-town charm. Who wouldn’t? Being around the same stores, the same people, the same town…a change of scenery started to sound nice after a while. You tried to get out about four years ago. After graduating high school in the summer of ‘85, you followed the Byers out west to attend University of California, Berkeley. It was a tough transition, especially without your boyfriend. The two of you made the long distance work as best you could over the year, relying on phone calls, letters, even the occasional surprise visits when you could. 

After spring break freshman year, you knew the next three would drag on if you stayed in California. You couldn’t let Hawkins go. Your family was here— both biological and otherwise— so was your home…and Steve. You couldn’t let it go, not again. 

So you didn’t leave. 

After the earthquake, you made the decision to move back to Indiana for good. You transferred to Indiana State University, finished your degree, and took up a job doing something you loved in the process. It had taken you some time, but in between loan payments, you and Steve were able to put rent down on a lease. The apartment itself wasn’t grand by any means, but it was home. 

This year marked the first Christmas you and Steve would spend without the stress of finals or scheduling conflicts. The two of you made sure to request the day off in advance, going as far as taking additional shifts to cover the expenses. It was tough, but you knew it would all be worth it to wake up on Christmas morning with Steve by your side. 

You rarely found yourself traveling through the Loch Nora neighborhood during the rest of the year. The big houses were daunting and the people who lived inside were even more so. People said Hawkins was cursed, plagued by a mystical evil that corrupted those who went looking in the wrong places. Once upon a time, you thought that to be true, too. Now, as you see the displays of red, green, and gold lights strung up over houses and fresh trees neatly dressed with popcorn in people’s yards, you only saw the magic. 

As Steve drove through the streets of your small home town, you felt yourself begin to relax into the leather seats of your boyfriend’s car. The sound of Christmas carols wormed its way into your ears from the stereo speakers, pairing nicely with the low hum of Steve’s voice as it sang along to the lyrics. 

“I can’t remember the worst December,” Steve sang quietly, both hands still situated upon the wheel. “Just watch the icicles form. What do I care if icicles form? I've got my love to keep me warm.”

You felt a flush heat your skin while it crept up your neck at the sound of his voice. Almost as if sensing your bashfulness, Steve tilted his head toward you when he pulled up to the next stoplight. Ever the flirt, he gave you a small smile and quick wink as he continued to hum along with the tune. “Off with my overcoat,” he sang a bit louder now, another cheeky grin at the corner of his lips, “off with my gloves. Who needs an overcoat? I’m burning with love.”

 “Okay, now you’re just being mean,” you bemoaned. Without another word, you leaned over to lower the volume of the radio.

“Those are just the lyrics, babe,” your boyfriend defended. On any other occasion, you would have taken pity on him and let the situation go. Although, the grin which refused to remove itself from his face only made you smack him or cover your tinted face in your scarf. Maybe even both.

“Not the way you’re singing it. Just shut up and drive, Harrington.”

“Oh, well, isn’t someone bossy…” Steve snickered. “Maybe I like this new side of you. Where have you been hiding this one?”

He made another turn, this time onto a street that you were more familiar with. Through the early days of your friendship-turned-relationship, you would take this street to pull into Steve’s driveway when nightmares kept him up in the wee hours of the morning. His parents were hardly ever home, so it wasn’t like you needed to sneak in. Though now that the two of you had your own place, 

“What are we doing here?” you questioned, frowning at your boyfriend.

Steve merely smiled in response as he pulled up into the driveway and cut the ignition. He undid his seatbelt and gestured for you to do the same as he got out of the car. You couldn’t help but smile as he bolted over to the passenger side to open your door with a mock bow. It was such an old fashioned gesture, but it still felt entirely like Steve: an old soul with a big heart. “I want to show you something,” he said.

Steve held out his hand, which you were quick to accept. He took that as an opportunity to swing your interlaced fingers back and forth. Shoving his free hand in his pocket, he brandished a pair of keys and led you to unlock the back garden gate. It was darker than usual, the only light streamed from inside the pool. The two of you still knew your way around the yard, even in the dark. You allowed Steve to guide you along for a moment, before he suddenly stopped and rested his hands against your shoulders. 

“Alright,” he said. “Just– just wait here, okay?”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he stepped away, leaving you alone in the darkened backyard. You suddenly felt nervous for no apparent reason. Even though it had been a few years since the last interaction with the Upside Down, you remembered hearing about what happened to Barb in Steve’s backyard. You knew you could fend for yourself. It wouldn’t be your first tumble with the beasts from Hell. You also knew Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to you if there was a surprise intruder. 

Then why were you so anxious? 

Your thoughts were cut short by a flood of bright light which practically blinded you in the process. As you blinked away the initial shock, you were met with an even larger surprise. A gazebo was now tucked into the corner of the Harrington family’s backyard. It was illuminated by bright strands of warm yellow twinkling lights wrapped around the railing. Little paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, held up by invisible wire.  

Steve stood in the middle of the structure. An embarrassed smile stretched across his face and a flush burned bright pink against his cheeks. “Surprise?” he said weakly.

“Steve,” you trailed off in utter surprise. “What– what is this?”

“Well,” your boyfriend came closer to pull you under the overhang over the gazebo, hands tightly gripped against yours. “My, uh, parents always wanted a gazebo and I wanted to make this special, so I, uh, I guess two birds, one stone, yeah?”

You frowned and furrowed your brow. “You…you did this?”

Steve nodded and swallowed. His eyes shifted from one side of your face to the other, as though he was searching for something. After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

“I, uh, I had a whole speech prepared,” he admitted. “I wanted to tell you how much I love you, how much I want to be with you. I wanted to tell you about all the plans I had to make this Christmas as special as possible. But being here, now, today, that all flies out the window. Because, in the end, I know the flowery words won't matter. Because right now, all I see and all I feel is you.

“I know with everything that I have, that I want to be with you forever. I know that I will never stop loving you. I told you when you went off to college, I didn't care that we were only able to see each other during your breaks. That didn’t matter to me because it would be so worth it for you to come home. I guess the point here is I will never stop waiting for you, because you are my everything. You're everything I need, sweetheart.

“And right now, I really only have one thing left to ask you,” he continued, a teary and hopeful smile against his lips. As you looked over at him, you gasped as he knelt one knee onto the floor of the gazebo and produced a small box from his jacket pocket. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Steve,” you gasped and covered your mouth with two gloved hands. You felt the tears as they welled up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Steve asked gently. He scooted a bit closer to reach up and wipe the tears from your eyes. “Are you okay?”

You eagerly nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” you answered. “Yeah, I’m okay, Steve.”

A sigh escaped your boyfriend as his body released its tension to relax. “Okay, good,” he said with a nod. “That’s good. But, uh, I kinda need an answer here, babe.”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you slowly fell onto your knees to give him a kiss. Steve almost immediately melted into it. His hands wrapped around your waist as yours found the small tufts of hair at the base of his neck. Despite the cold chill of the December air, you felt as though you were sitting in front of an open fire. When you finally broke apart, a smile nearly threatened to split your face in two. 

“So…” Steve drawled out between huffs of breath. “Was that a yes?”

You kissed him again with a grin, much more quickly this time. “Yes,” you affirmed. “Yes, I will marry you. In every way and language. Oui, si, da, yes. Yes.”

You couldn’t believe this moment was really happening. After years of knowing each other, defeating monsters, and finally coming together, Steve was asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. You knew it wasn’t going to be perfect, but you knew it would be worth it. 

When you looked into your future, you saw the two of you finally living the lives you dreamed of. Whether it was in Hawkins or anywhere else, you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered is that you would be with Steve. He was your home, your family, and your future.

And you couldn’t wait to see what would happen next. 

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

Author's Note: And that officially concludes our Stevemas celebration. I can't believe this is the end. The last two weeks have sped by in a blur, but I couldn't be happier to have seen all the nice comments about this little event. I'll be honest when I say this started out as a completely self-indulgent challenge, but to see you all on every fic (and seeing some new faces, too), it really made my holiday season. I really wanted to make this last story special and I'm really happy with the end result.

That being said, thanks for sticking with me over the last 12 days. If you liked this fic and event series, and want to see more like it on my blog, please consider commenting, tagging a friend, and reblogging this post. Not only does it help motivate me to keep putting out new content, it also helps spread the word about my works. Likes are appreciated, but it's really these three interactions that help the most. If you want to get updates on any of my future stories, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I don't bite and won't spam you too much with mine and other creators' amazing work!

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Wishing you all a very merry christmas and an equally wonderful holiday season regardless of how you celebrate!

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove, @maddipoof

[caribouv]

2022 best

If it's first it means it's not last. This is probably the most underwhelming and unexciting yearly list I've ever put together.

+ ALBUM

Foxtails - fawn

FONTAINES D.C. - Skinity Fia

Drunk Uncle - Look Up

Birds in Row - Gris Klein

Pool Kids - s/t

OCULA - Crossroad

Le Youth - Reminders

Horsegirl - Versions

Beach House - Once Twice Melody

Soccer Mommy - Sometimes, Forever

+ SONG

Chase Plato - Set You Free

djimboh - Up Here (with Lumynesynth)

+ RECORD/COVER

Honestly, whatever Lane 8 / This Never Happened cooked up this year. I spent too much time listening to mixes and not enough time paying attention to what was actually playing.

+ SET/MIX

Deep Woods with Pretty Pink was awesome, but Lane 8's season mixes played on repeat this year from start to finish. You could just throw any of these on and you've got instant 2-3 hours of deep house, trance. I'm listening to Fall 2022 right now.

Foxtails on Audiotree is awesome too. It's wild the vocals coming out of that girl.

+ MOVIE

This Place Rules (even though fucking Andrew certainly doesn't.)

Trainwreck Woodstock 99'

Nope

Pearl

Movies sort of sucked this year for me. Though to be fair I'm wildly behind on my list: The Whale, Marcel Shoes, Inisherin, Till, Quiet Girl, Avatar 2, All Quiet, etc. etc.

+ TV SHOW

Andor and Queen's Gambit. Without a dobut. Vox Machina is so so so good, but those two shows are on a different level.

Also to note: TV was really, really good this year. Half Bad, Power Rings, Dragon House, Yellowjackets, Arcane, Cyberpunk, Midnight Club, Eps 4 7 8 of Curiositiy Cabinents, Stranger Things 4, End is Nye, Prehistoric Planet, White Lotus, Severance, 1899, Wednesday, Maisel 4, Fleabag 2. I really don't think I watched much anything I didn't like other than that Salt Fat Acid garbage.

+ ACTOR

Voice actors from Vox Machina. I'm so stoked for s2 coming up here next week.

+ VIDEO GAME

Another year of Dead By Daylight. I can't get away from this game.

Project Zomboid and 7 Days To Die are both stellar. It reminds me of the Minecraft/Terraria split from 2010. WOTLK was generally a lot of fun, but I think it's more than just playing resto shaman is a blast. Cycle Frontier was cool af and the only reason I quit is because of how cracked the players are at it. But DBD. D. B. D. I think I'm at like 1,850 hours in it.

+ BOOK

Still going through Wheel of Time. I'm at book 9. They are not mindblowing anymore and I'm getting bored of the constant gender distrust themes, but they are absolutely epics.

+ ATHLETE

M FUCKING BPAPPE. I haven't seen a soccer game as exciting as that world cup final in years.

+ PERSON

Penny or Houdini or my Mom

+ FOOD

I stopped eating out as much this year and instead tried making the food I'd order because budget. Pad Thai, Enchiladas, Lasagna, Chicken Parmesan, Ragu, Soups, Roasts, etc.

The best thing I made over and over this year was Biba's Ragu though. It's dumb how easy it is for how good it is.

Also onions. No matter what you're making, if you add onion to it then it will be better. Spaghetti, eggs, potatoes, ramen, sandwich, burger, salad, pizza, chicken, soup, noodles, rice, beans, etc. ADD ONIONS.

+ TRIP

I went nowhere this year.

+ MOMENT

Probably quitting and getting the fuck out of my mismanaged firm. God damn that was liberating af. Two other attorneys peaced the fuck out right after me too.

+ BIGGEST LETDOWN

Losing Luigi was horrible.

The new Odesza and Flume albums were trash.

Blowing my ankles out in late Feburary sucked because I was starting to really get going with running in a good way.

Clerks 3 had such a brilliant concept to go full circle, but instead it just degrading into  clunky fan service, old references, and cameos.

//

Goals for 2023: Read more nonfiction & a bit the same as 2022: create something be it flash fiction, story, game, whatever.

[absurdthirst]

Verba Amoris {Ezra x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 24.4k

Warning: Mentions of death, homelessness, drunkenness, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of social status, angst, miscommunication, unprotected sex

Comments: A stranger comes into the bookshop where you work and changes the course of your life. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

You look up as the bell rings, the book you were reading is abandoned as you greet your new customer. “Good afternoon. Welcome. Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, unable to stop yourself from admiring the roguish looks of the newcomer. His hair is slicked back and his mustache is groomed.

Ezra looks around the quaint bookshop with interest. The display of titles in the window had caught his attention and he had felt the need to come in and browse. When his gaze lands on you, he smiles, a slow thing that starts off at one corner of his mouth and spreads over his face until his entire top row of shiny, straight teeth are on display. “I must confess, I had not entered your establishment with any particular title in mind, however, anything you could suggest to a voracious reader would be most appreciated.”

“What kind of genre peaks your interest? I have a bit of everything. Perhaps the newest Hemingway?” You suggest, picking up the books you are unwrapping and holding one out to him. “I have been reading it and I…I think it’s his best work yet” You murmur, caressing the spine of the book. “What is your type? I mean- I - what do you usually read?” You ask, flustered as you look into those dark brown eyes.

He takes the book from you and doesn’t even examine it. Too busy looking and the exquisite creature that is offering it to him. “Everything, little bird.” He murmurs, staring at you as if you are a priceless painting. “I find that I enjoy reading everything from the most torrid dime novels to the lengthy prose of some of the most famous authors.” He smiles and takes a step closer to you. “What do you read when you have leisure time?” 

You shift from one foot to the other behind the counter. “I- I like to read. A lot. So we could be here all day with my recommendations. I read everything from poems to historical nonfiction to, um, erotica” You confess, growing even more flustered. “But I would suggest perhaps Robert Frost if you are feeling reflective?” You ask, walking around the counter and over to the bookshelves. 

“Robert Frost.” Ezra nods in approval. “Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.” He quotes, keeping his gaze on you as you whirl around in surprise. “Show me the erotica, little bird.” He purrs. “To know what a woman thinks is to know her.”

You bite your lip, your body on fire from his smooth rendition of Fire and Ice. You walk over to the shelves in the corner in the back of the store. “I- I am partial to this one” You say, handing him the book from the second shelf and shifting from one foot to the other as he takes “The Heptameron” from your hands. “Seventy two short stories” You inform him, watching him appraise the cover. “It’s…a personal favorite of mine” You confess.

“Then this is what I shall take.” He tucks it under his arm with the Hemingway title and gives you a slight smirk. “I will have to let you know what I think of these.” He tells you, watching you fluster slightly. “Tell me, do you read while you are tucked into your bed or curled up on a couch while you drink your tea?”

You are drawn to his magnetic demeanor, offering to take the books from his hands to wrap them up and his i fingers brush yours. You try to not show how his touch sends sparks up your arm and you swallow harshly before answering his question. “Depends on the book. If it’s Hemingway, I’ll be curled up on the couch drinking tea. If it’s The Heptameron, I’d be in bed” You say honestly before your eyes widen at what you just implied. “I'll, uh, wrap these up for you” You rush out and step back to your counter.

He hums as he watches you rush off. You are intriguing to him and to be honest, it’s been a long time since someone has intrigued him. He makes his way to the counter where you are wrapping the books in brown paper and tying the bundle up with twine so that he can transport them. “Tell me, little bird, how did one as breathtaking as yourself find herself toiling behind the counters of a dusty bookstore?” He asks, leaning against the divide between you. “Shouldn’t you be out courting?”

You snort, wondering why this gorgeous man is flirting with you. He’s wealthy. His suit and watch tell you he’s wealthy and you wonder why he’s bothering with a street rat like you. “I- I can’t. I can’t afford to court. I don’t have any pretty dresses to wear. I don’t have time to style my hair and put on lipstick. I’m - I need the money so I’m working here to survive” You tell him honestly. Confused about why you feel the need to tell this stranger everything but you can’t help it. His dark eyes draw you in and you want to just wrap your arms around his neck to inhale his expensive cologne.

“That is simply unfathomable.” Ezra shakes his head and nods towards the small seating area in one corner of the store. He pulls his wallet out to pay for the books, bills stuffed inside the thick leather and he hands you more than what the books are worth. “Do me the honor of sitting and talking with me for a bit?” He asks you, eager to learn more about the beautiful girl in front of him. There was nothing but an empty house to go back to and he found himself loathing to leave your company. 

You bite your lip as you count the money and you realize he gave you too much. “Sir. Here’s your change” You tell him, holding the money out towards him. He shakes his head and you frown. “Consider it a tip, little bird” He offers and you shake your head. 

“I am not here for charity” You tell him and hold it out further. “I shall sit and talk to you if you take your change” You offer.

Ezra’s hand comes out and he pushes the money back towards you gently. “This is merely a token of my appreciation for spending time with a fool and indulging his ramblings.” There wasn’t much he could do about pride but he did believe in compensating someone for their time. “Please.” He urges you. “Use it to buy a pretty lipstick or for some fancy tea for when you are indulging in Hemingway.” 

You step back and place the money on the counter, leaving it out in case he changes his mind. “Very well. Let’s sit. Tell me about yourself. What’s your name?” You ask, sitting down in the chair next to him as he sits down next to you. You admire his profile as he looks around the modest shop and you feel severely underdressed next to him. “So why did you come into this bookshop? Surely there’s more choice in those shops in midtown.

Ezra turns his attention back to you and gives you a smile. “Forgive my manners. Ezra Greenbrier at your service.” He nods his head towards you and continues on. “As for finding this hidden gem, I was taking a walk, and became entranced by the display in the window. Tell me, do you create the window dressings yourself?” He asks and hums when you nod shyly. “You are very talented, my dear. It captured my attention and drew me inside the doors, eager to meet someone who could create such a vision.” 

You fluster and duck your chin, “thank you. You’re too kind. I- I try my best. I love this place. It’s an escape. It’s not the easiest thing to be out on the streets so I was grateful to get this job. It’s my passion. Literature. It’s what I live for” You smile softly, glancing around at the books.

He frowns slightly at the mention of being on the streets, hating the idea of someone like you being vulnerable like that. “You shall have to guide me then.” He decides, wondering how you would react to his library at home. “I would like to expand my reading into some newer works and can never resist a recommendation.” 

You nod, “you’re welcome back whenever you want. It’s a pleasure to speak to someone who loves books as much as I do. Most would just scoff and say they read whatever is popular but the most popular books aren’t necessarily the best. There are some gems that never published more than a thousand copies but are incredible and complex stories. I’m sure your wife appreciates a good book too” You add.

“My wife?” Ezra shakes his head with a small chuckle. “You give me too much credit, little bird.” He tells you with a grin. “You are in the presence of a confirmed bachelor. I have yet to find a woman that is willing to put up with my tendency to soliloquize over the most mundane of topics. I tend to ramble, as you may have very well guessed.”

You raise your eyebrows, “I like it. It’s…comforting. Plus, you aren’t rambling on with drivel, you have content and it’s intriguing. I’m sure you will find a woman one day only too happy to listen to your monologues. I know I am enjoying your company so there must be others who will agree.”

He huffs slightly, remembering the last society party that he went to where they were obviously more interested in his money than what he was saying. “You are kind to say that, little bird.” He is intrigued by the fact that you don’t rush him off so you can return to your book, he knows you were reading when he entered. 

The time passes quickly with the two of you chatting about all manner of things before he brings his watch out of his pocket and sighs with regret. “I must vacate your presence but I will return post haste.” He tells you with a small smile. 

You can’t help but feel disappointed at his exit but you understand. He’s a wealthy man and most wealthy men have places to go. You are stuck in this little bookshop with only a few customers a day. “I might see you soon then” You smile back and stand up, walking over to the counter.

He makes his way home, unable to think of anything but you as he opens his books and starts to read. Staying up late and reading through the night, he is tired but in high spirits as he makes his way down the narrow street to the bookshop where he hopes to see your smiling face, this time a thermos of tea and a small basket with sandwiches that Cook had insisted he take when he had informed her that he would not be home for tea time today. The tiny bell over the doorway tinkles as he opens the door to the quaint shop. 

You look up as you hear the bell ring and your eyes widen as you see Ezra enter, holding a small basket. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Already read Hemingway?” You tease and try to stifle the excitement in your stomach as you notice the way Ezra eyes your newly painted red lips. You smile and watch him walk towards the counter.

“I have.” Ezra gives a small smirk and admires the stain on your lips. “I see that you have picked out a beautiful color for lips, little bird.” He watches you fluster slightly and you toy with the edge of the book in front of you. “I have brought some refreshments for us to partake in while we discuss the next volumes you shall assign me to read.” 

You’re surprised that he brought something, meaning he plans to stay and talk to you again. You smile and gesture for him to sit while you find the new novel that just arrived. Picking up ‘Gone with the Wind’, you walk over and take a seat. Holding the book out to him, you say “I figured you would like this. With your accent…it’s set in the south.”

“Hmm.” Ezra is delighted that you were thinking about him when picking up a book. He glances at the tome and flips it open. “This will be a marvelous read for tonight.” He proclaims after reading a few lines from a random page. 

He quickly sets the book aside and hands you the thermos while he starts to unpack the basket, pulling tea cups and saucers out along with a container of finger sandwiches and a dish of sugar cubes. “I hope you will join me.” He tells you, gesturing to the cup and sandwiches. “Cook couldn’t stand that I wouldn’t be home and insisted that I must at least serve you refreshments since you will be listening to my prattling.” 

You are taken back by the spread. The tea cups must cost more than your wages per month. You’re almost nervous to touch it as he pours the tea into the cup. “Do you take sugar?” He asks and you nod, watching as he plops a cube into the cup and stirs it for you. “Thank you” You smile and look at the sandwiches. “These look delicious. Wow…thank you Ezra” You murmur, “this is incredible.”

He smiles at you and gestures for you to pick some sandwiches. “Anything for someone who has already brought me joy and intrigue.” He tells you simply. He holds great value on those things, especially lately when his loneliness gets the best of him. “So tell me how your day has been treating you, little bird.” He asks, leaning back and crossing his legs as he takes a sip of his own tea. 

You try to not grab the sandwiches. You didn’t eat yesterday since you had run out of money before you could get paid. Your landlord demanded the back rent you hadn’t paid so you gave him the money and forwent meals for the day. You were planning to skip today and your stomach rumbles. Not wanting to appear greedy despite being famished. “It’s been busy. I’ve sold quite a few of the new Hemingway and I haven’t had time to have lunch” You excuse your rumbling stomach.

“Well then, allow this to be your makeshift meal.” Ezra offers, leaning forward and nudging the plate towards you. “I never really care for sandwiches with my tea. Gives my gut a fierce ache.” It’s a lie, but you wouldn’t know that. “Can’t convince Cook of it though.” He sees the hunger in your eyes and he doesn’t care for it at all, never wanting someone to go hungry. 

“You have a cook? Wow. I couldn’t imagine having someone cook for me everyday. Can barely afford to get a hot meal” You joke to cover your embarrassment, glancing towards the plate of sandwiches. You pick one up and bring it to your mouth, taking a bite and you can’t stop the moan escaping your lips. It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Something so simple as a sandwich and it’s amazing. You swallow your bite and look at him, noticing the sparkle in his eyes.

Ezra has to bite his lip in order to not immediately invite you for dinner. He knows that you would think him horribly forward and probably think him a cad. His interest in you is genuine and he would hate to hurt any chance he has to possibly court you by rushing into anything without thought. “It is something that perhaps I take for granted.” He tells you, taking another sip of his tea. He is enjoying you eat. “Please have another, have as many as you want.” 

You try to act ladylike, carefully eating the sandwich despite wanting to shove them into your mouth and devour them. You grab another sandwich after a moment, sipping the tea carefully. “Thank you. You’re too kind. These are delicious. You have a wonderful chef. You’re a lucky man. Did you enjoy my other suggestion? Not the Hemingway” You clarify.

Ezra smirks, nodding as he watches you take another bite of the sandwich. He would leave the remaining ones with you if there are any left. “I found it very…..stimulating.” He reveals, having to stop at one point to relieve himself, wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking off while he was thinking about the very woman in front of him. “I will have to ask for your second favorite of that genre as well.” 

You fluster again at his words, glancing over at the taboo corner of the store. “I may have another suggestion for you before you leave” You say coyly and he chuckles. Soon enough, you are full and there are sandwiches left over. “Are you sure you do not wish to eat? They are delicious” You tell Ezra and reach for the glass container they traveled in to pack them up for him to take home.

“No, I’m afraid that I would bemoan the wretched state of my digestive system for hours.” Ezra lies smoothly. He has no issues with his stomach but he wants you to take those remaining sandwiches home so that you have something tonight. Reaching out, he stays your hand. “Would you- Cook is a very temperamental soul, she would be in her doldrums if she were to think that her efforts to nourish me were in vain.” He nods towards the sandwiches. “Is there any way you would hide the evidence of my misdeeds, little bird?” 

You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, suspicious of his kindness - a habit left over from being on the street most of your life - before you relent. Seeing only genuine intentions in his dark gaze. You nod, “of course. We can’t have her getting upset and not making you another delicious meal. You will promise me you will eat when you return home?” You ask in exchange for concealing his sensitive gut.

“Veritably.” Ezra agrees quickly, suppressing the joy that threatens to come across his face at the knowledge that tonight at least, your stomach will be full when you lay your head down on your pillow. He relaxes and leans back when you nod, taking another sip of his tea. “So what other suggestions do you have for me, little bird. What is the most under-appreciated book in this shop?” 

You grin and set your tea cup down, making your way across the bookshop to the corner, grabbing a book that you loved that hardly anyone would purchase. You carry it back over and hold it out in front of Ezra. "Virginia Wolfe. The Waves. Most men would rather read George Orwell or Aldous Huxley. Most men don't want to read Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice. They don't want to see the world through a woman's eyes but this book...well, it's almost poetry. It shows her friends and family and her perceptions. It's a brilliant book" You smile, looking at the book tenderly.

Ezra smiles at how much you love the book, he won’t mention that he actually owns this book already, well loved in his library. “I will have to read it, little bird.” He promises. “To view the world through the gentleness of a woman is to know her heart. To know her heart is to know her secrets. To know her secrets is to know her.” 

You inhale sharply, swearing that you just fell in love with him a little but you bite your lip. You can’t fall in love with him. You are not good enough for him. Not in the same social circles, you shouldn’t even be sitting here having a cup of tea with him. “Well I- I better get back to work. I’m sure you have other engagements. I will wrap up the books for you and I can wash out the cups for you to take home without staining the basket” You offer, standing up and holding your hand out to take the fragile china cup.

The close atmosphere between the two of you is broken and while Ezra doesn’t understand why, he nods and hands you the cup. “Thank you.” He offers with a smile as he stands and starts to gather the other items to put back in the basket, leaving the container of sandwiches for you to take with you. You disappear into the back and come back with the cups while he stands at the counter and wonders what he had done to make you change so abruptly. 

You quickly wrap up the books, calculating the cost before you hand him the receipt. He pulls his wallet out, giving you too much money again. "Sir, you don't - you've given me too much again. I'm afraid I cannot accept" You shake your head, not wanting to feel like a charity case once again.

“Yes you can.” He tells you softly. “Please. It would make me ecstatic to know that I am not leeching your time away from your important duties without compensating you for it.” It’s a flimsy excuse but he wants to help you, feels compelled to. “Use it for whatever you want.”

You hesitate, his change still in your hand, and you nod. Placing it down on the counter. You’ll leave it in the till until you have a day where you are starving and desperately need it. You hold the wrapped package out towards him. “Thank you…Ezra” You say his name and his smile makes your heart thump. “For the record, you aren’t leeching my time away. In fact, you make my day better. You’re welcome here anytime” You smile, feeling like a little girl who has a crush on her neighbor.

Ezra gives you a matching smile, nodding respectfully and he takes the wrapped parcel from you. “Until the next fortuitous encounter my gossamer sprite.” He tucks the books into the basket and turns to make his way out of the bookstore and out of sight, whistling to himself as he imagines what excuses he can come up with to perhaps invite you for dinner tomorrow. 

The next day, Ezra walks into the shop but he isn't greeted by your usual smile. No, he is greeted by tears in your eyes. "What is wrong, little bird?" He asks and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

"No- nothing. It's okay" You promise but Ezra stares at you, eyebrows raised. You break after a few moments. "My- my landlord just came in. He said - he said that I owe more back rent and need to give him more money. I said I haven't got any more money than what I already gave him and he- he-" You choke. 

"He what?" Ezra's voice deepens and you look across the bookshop to avoid his eyes. 

"He offered to let me pay my back rent in...other ways" You finish, tears stinging your eyes.

Ezra’s eyes narrow dangerously and rage fills his entire being as he grasps your meaning. His first thought of offering to pay your back rent when you first voiced that, died. Your landlord was a predator who used his power over you to try to lure you into acts that you were obviously not willing to perform for him. 

“That will not be necessary, little bird.” He announces, immediately thinking of the suite of rooms next to his. Officially the mistress of the house’s quarters, he would have you stay there for as long as you would like. “Let us go pack your belongings. You will come and reside with me.” 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “I was not asking for your pity or your charity Ezra. I- I will be fine. I will manage. There’s no need- I’ll find somewhere to go” You tell him, knowing that’s a lie. You’ve used up all of your friends' invitations to stay with them. 

“I’ll be fine” You hold your chin up, not wanting to seem pathetic. The idea of accepting Ezra’s invitation is tempting not for the luxury he no doubt abides in, but for the unlimited time you’d likely spend in his company.

He tilts his head and a crooked smile twists his lips. “No.” He draws out, shaking his head slightly. “No, you won’t be, little bird.” He reaches over and takes your hand, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin on the back of it. “I have the room. There is an entire suite of rooms that would be yours, with your own water closet.” It was a luxury not to share bathrooms between several rooms but he had renovated his house to include bathrooms for every suite. 

“My library. I need help organizing it. Rather than spend your days peddling books and wondering if you will eat, you can order tea and sweets anytime you wish and go through the haphazard pile of books that are shoved on shelves.” He tries to sweeten the offer. 

You bite your lip, considering his offer for several moments and he waits patiently for your answer. You have nowhere else to go and the idea is too tempting. He has a library. “Okay. I will help you in any way that I can to repay you. Whatever you need” You tell him, adamant that you won’t stay in his home for free. Eat his food and not give anything in return. Even if he wants your company for several hours a day.

“Your presence is everything I could want.” He assures you, breaking into a wide smile at your acceptance. “Come, let’s go gather your things and get you settled in.” He urges you, eager to get you back to his house and set up. Plus he knows you will need things, having every intention of taking you on a shopping trip and buying you everything that your heart desires. You deserve it.

You smile, his excitement is contagious, and you frown when you remember you need to inform your boss. "I- I can't quit right now. I will need to wait until my boss arrives to lock up and take the money to the bank. I- can you come back at five?" You ask, hating to dismiss him but your boss has always been kind to you and you wish to let him know in person.

“That will be perfect, little bird.” Ezra tells you with a nod and an easy smile. “I can go home and have your rooms prepared and inform the staff.” He takes out his wallet and hands you a handful of bills. “When I return, I want any book that you wish to take with you ready to go as well. And please get some lunch with it.” He urges you.

At five on the dot, Ezra appears in the bookshop just as you are bidding goodbye to the owner. He wasn't happy about you leaving and wished you had given him notice but when you handed him some bills for the pile of books you wished to purchase, his grime face turned into a smile. You greet Ezra with armfuls of books, a wide grin on your face. 

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. I want you to read all of these" You tell him, "I need to get my things. I only live down the street" You inform him as he takes some of the books and your eyes widen as he walks towards a vehicle. "You own a car?" You ask in amazement.

“Of course.” Ezra opens the door for you and takes the rest of the books from you and places them on the floorboard so he can help you into the car. “I often walk but I did not want you to have to tarry through the streets with your belongings.” He had never looked at it as something to brag about like other men, merely a tool that helped him travel long distances. Once you are seated, he climbs behind the wheel and starts the car. “Where to, my lady?” He asks you loftily. 

You guide him towards your apartment and you can't help but stare in awe of the car. You have never been in one before. Only the bus. You point to your building and a few minutes later, Ezra is following you into your apartment. You wince at the fact that he is walking into your place, the leaking faucets and mold growing on the ceiling. It's not well maintained but it's all you can afford. "I'll, uh, just go collect my things" You tell him, rushing across the room to grab your worn out suitcase, quickly packing the few items you own.

Ezra hates that you live in a place like this. That anyone lives in conditions like this. He eyes the mold distastefully and makes a note to talk to his business man about checking the buildings that he owns more frequently. You own pitifully few things and quickly have your suitcase in front of the door. “Are you ready to go, little bird?” He asks you with a smile. “I am sure Cook will have dinner ready by the time we get you settled in.” 

You nod, leaving your key on the side table as you make your way out of the derelict building for the last time hopefully. "Ezra?" You ask while he is driving. 

He turns his head to look at you before looking back at the street, "yes little bird?" 

You lick your lips before asking your question, "why- why me? Why are you doing this for me?"

He sighs and looks over at you again before he has to look back at the road. “You are a very special woman. You - you intrigue me. The way you think, your interest in literature. You talk with me even though you probably have more interesting things to do with your time.” 

He didn’t want to admit that he was lonely among his wealthy circle. He didn’t wish to discuss how his investments were doing or how he had purchased another house. “The question you should be asking yourself, little bird, is - why not you?” 

You ponder his question as he drives until you answer softly, "you are the most interesting man I have ever met Ezra. There is no one I'd rather spend my time with." Your answer is honest. He has occupied your mind since he walked into that bookshop. You watch him smile in the corner of your eye as he turns into the valet area of a large building. 

"This - this is where you live?" You ask, eyes wide as you admire the ornate building before you. You'd often seen the buildings as you walked past during holidays, admiring the decorations. You never dreamed you'd even enter such a building.

“This is where I call home.” He offers you with a smile. It was the place in the city. He didn’t want to mention the fact that there is another home outside the city in the country. He wasn’t one to brag after all and he knows that coming from where you were living to here will be overwhelming by itself. He gets out and before he can rally around the car, the valet has opened your door to let you out. “Thank you Stephen.” He nods to the man and starts to grab your suitcase and books out of the back.

You try to help but Ezra insists on carrying your case and Stephen helps with the books. Ezra guides you through the ornate lobby and your eyes widen at the marble floor and gilded gold. Certain that it’s the nicest lobby you’ve ever been in. The concierge greets Ezra and the elevator operator smiles at you as he pushes the button for Ezra’s floor. You feel out of place in your worn clothing, tugging on your skirt.

Ezra sees the movement and decides that once you are settled in your rooms and the two of you are alone he will mention the shopping trip that he has planned for tomorrow. He doesn’t want you to be embarrassed by speaking in front of the elevator operator. Never wishing you to feel like you are a charity case. He is happy to shower you with the means he possesses. As the elevator comes to a stop, the operator opens the gate and Ezra ushers you out. “We are at the end of the hall, little bird.” He tells you as you walk along the plush carpets. 

You follow, admiring the mahogany doors with golden lion knockers until you reach the end of the hall. Ezra knocks and immediately the door opens, a butler greeting him. You swallow harshly as you enter, almost not wanting to touch anything.

“Come little bird, make yourself at home.” He urges you, handing the books to the butler. “Wilson, if  you would, put those in the library and then inform Cook we shall be ready for dinner in thirty minutes?” He asks, smiling as the other man nods and disappears. 

“Let me show you the accommodations I have set up for you, see if you approve.” He keeps your suitcase in hand and he starts to guide you further into the house, chattering as he takes you to your rooms. 

You follow him and can’t help but stare at the various paintings and ornate decorations. It’s like the Palace of Versailles. You stop outside of the open double doors, jaw on the ground as you stare at his private library. It had more books than the bookshop you worked in. All stacked up and unorganized. “Wow” You whisper to yourself.

“I apologize, little bird.” Ezra grimaces as he looks at the library through your eyes. “I know that it is an eyesore but I am hoping that with your keen sense of delight in literature, you can help me put this to rights.” He tells you with a smile. “Would you like to see the rooms I have assigned to you?” He asks, wondering if you want to stay right here or see more of your new home. 

You nod, tearing your eyes away from the library and you continue down the hall. He opens the door and you step in behind him, eyes wide. “Ezra” You exhale, “this…it’s too much. Do you- is there a staff quarters I can stay in? This- this is not…I’m not worthy of this” You finish softly, glancing around at the exquisitely decorated room.

“This is where you belong, little bird.” Ezra tells you, carrying the suitcase through the room and into the dressing room that is connected. He will show you later, if you wish, that the dressing  room connects to his room next door. He sets your suitcase down and comes back out, oddly shy now that you are here. “There is your bathroom through here.” He nods to the door next to the dressing room. “Complete with a tub and all the hot water you could dream for.” He bites his lip. “I’ll arrange for us to go shopping tomorrow. To….fill out your wardrobe.” 

Your eyes widen. “Ezra. No. I - I don’t have any money-” You start but he interrupts you. 

“You don’t need to pay for anything, little bird. I want to buy you some clothes. I want to give you what your heart desires.” 

You frown, “but why? I- I don’t expect anything from you unless…I know my clothes are worn and ratty. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to you” You choke.

Ezra frowns and shakes his head. “You are not an embarrassment to me, little bird.” He tells you firmly. “I want to give you everything that you want. You are safe and secure here with me.” He promises, reaching out and cupping your cheek. “Beautiful angels deserve to be wrapped up in gossamer wings, all I want to do is provide that.” 

You swallow harshly, tears stinging your eyes once again and you have no idea what you did to deserve his kindness. You lean into his touch for a moment until he drops his hand. “Thank you Ezra. I- I don’t know what I did to warrant such a kindness but thank you” You murmur and tilt your head up to kiss his cheek.

Ezra hums, his cheeks flushing slightly and he longs to turn his head to press his lips to yours. “All you did was be the magnificent being that I see before me.” He murmurs softly. “Like Virginia Woolf said ‘Arrange whatever pieces come your way.’.” He smiles at you as he steps back. “Let’s go see what Cook has prepared for dinner. And then I shall leave you to settle into your rooms.” 

You nod, a small smile on your face and you hope he is blushing because of you. In a good way. You follow him out of the large suite and down the hall to the dining room. It’s set up like he’s expecting royalty and you gasp at the fine china and Crystal glassware. Proper silverware, expertly polished. “This…this is how you eat dinner?” You ask, sitting down when the butler pulls the chair to the left of Ezra out for you to sit. You almost feel too poor to touch any of it and you frown, wondering which knife and fork to use.

“I keep telling them that I don't need to be served like this every night.” Ezra huffs, pulling his napkin down into his lap and looking over at you. “But they don’t listen.” He chuckles thinking about how his servants run his home with more propriety than he would like, although he knows they adore him since they have been with him for years. “Little bird.” He murmurs, waiting until he gets your attention. “Best course of action is to use the silverware from the outside in.” 

You offer him an appreciative smile and lean back as the butler serves the starter. Something you’ve never eaten before. Lobster. “Dig in, little bird” Ezra orders softly. You are surprised at the decedent meal and hesitate as you pick up the knife and fork. Carefully cutting and placing the lobster in your mouth. You can’t help it, a loud moan escapes your mouth as you chew the buttery shellfish.

Ezra shifts in his chair at the sound of your moan, cock twitching in his trousers and he can’t help but wish he was feasting on you to produce such a sound. “I take it from the unrestrained sound of pleasure that you are enjoying the lobster?” He asks, forking up a bite of his own and humming in pleasure at the taste. “We shall have to ask Cook to prepare a bisque when the weather is bitter and we are cozy next to the fire.” 

You fluster, embarrassed at the sound you emitted. You nod slowly, glancing down at the dish. “It’s delicious” You smile, wondering why he imagines you in his home during the winter. You won’t allow yourself to hope for that. You’ll plan for your own future in case he kicks you out of his beautiful home once the novelty of having a street urchin wears off. 

“That sounds wonderful” You tell him. “Why aren’t you married?” You inquire and fluster when you realize how inappropriate that question was. “I- I apologize” You quickly add. Perhaps Ezra prefers men. Not that you think there is anything wrong with that. You’ve read enough to know that people do not have the choice of being attracted to their own sex despite what many would claim.

“No,” Ezra shakes his head and sets his fork down so he can wipe his mouth. “Never offer apologies for curiosity, little bird.” He sighs and picks up his water goblet and takes a sip. “I was betrothed several years ago. Lovely debutant, wealthy family, good connections.” 

He huffs slightly and sets his glass down. “She bored me to tears and I must have done the same to her because she found herself in a...delicate situation before we were to be wed and the babe was most assuredly not mine.” He leans in and gives you a small smirk. “She had been running around with her family’s driver.” 

Your eyes widen, “goodness gracious. I- I- I’m so sorry Ezra.” You are scandalized. You’ve heard of women having affairs, especially in the upper class. Friends who work as maids or ladies in waiting telling you about the scandals in their household. “You didn’t deserve that. I suppose my experience with betrothals is limited. I have never been engaged. Every man I meet finds me too…well read” You confess.

Ezra tuts. “It is a quality I find most admirable.” He confides. “I would rather hold a conversation about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her Sonnets from the Portuguese than I would the latest fashions from Paris or whether it is appropriate for the help to have an extra day off.” He snorts and shakes his head. “You are a gem, my little bird and you should never settle for a man who does not value your worth.” 

You fluster, ducking your head before you dig back into the lobster. You try to not let yourself get hopeful at his words, his compliments. You know you’re just a distraction until someone else comes along. Maybe even a pet project. The butler comes by to remove your dishes before the next course is served. Roast beef. The smell makes your mouth water and you have never had such indulgent food. “Ezra. This is too much. A sandwich would have sufficed” You tell him.

He shakes his head. “Eat until you are full but do not worry, little bird.” He picks up his knife and gives you a grin. “There will be plenty of days for us to make sandwiches when it’s Cook’s day off and we don’t feel like leaving the house to go to a restaurant.” He teases. “We will be raiding the icebox together.” He motions for you to eat. “Don’t worry, the staff normally eats just as well.” 

You exhale deeply after finishing off the strawberry shortcake. It’s the most food you’ve eaten in years and you rub your stomach, feeling beyond full. “That was incredible” You say to Ezra, “can I thank your cook?”

“Absolutely.” Ezra smiles and pushes his chair back to stand, groaning himself as he rubs his stomach before he steps over to you to help you out of your chair. He smirks when you blow out a breath, happy you are full and content. “Let us make our way to the kitchen and we praise the cook and simultaneously ask her for a pot of chocolate for you to enjoy while you are soaking in a bath with your favorite book. How does that sound?” He asks. 

“You’re spoiling me Ezra” You say breathlessly, his eyes sparking and you resist the urge to kiss his cheek again. He guides you through the dining room door to the kitchen to find the staff eating their meal while the cook begins to clean. 

You bite your lip as the staff stand up and Ezra shakes his head. “Please, sit down” He orders, “continue eating before it gets cold.” Ezra greets his cook with a smile. “Mrs. Williams, let me introduce my friend from the bookshop” He says and tells the cook your name. 

“Welcome” She greets you with a friendly smile. 

“Thank you so much. The meal…it was the best I’ve ever had. I’ve never had lobster before” You confess.

“It is quickly a favorite of hers.” Ezra announces and he can see the other servants bobbing their heads in agreement. “It will have to be included on the menu often. And when it gets cold, that bisque that you make?” He moans slightly and rolls his eyes in pleasure at the idea. He gives Mrs. Williams a charming smile. “I was also wondering if there was any way that I could ask for a pot of chocolate?” He asks, batting his eyes playfully at the older woman. 

She chuckles and slaps him with her tea towel. “You have always been a chocolate fiend. Very well. You go prepare for your evening and I shall prepare the chocolate pot” She says and you smile, liking her personality already. Ezra leans down to kiss her cheek and you smile, loving that he treats his staff with kindness.

Ezra guides you back to the library and he smiles when you look around the large, book ladened room in awe. “I have to admit.” Ezra tells you while he bites his lip. “Some of the books that you brought from the store I most likely have here on the shelves.” He tells you with an embarrassed shrug. “I forget what I have and will buy a second copy.” 

“Ezra” You playfully scold him, “you shouldn’t have wasted the money. Wait…does that mean you’ve read- you read my suggestions already?” You ask, feeling a little embarrassed. He is sheepish and you playfully narrow your eyes at him. “You- you- you led me to believe I was clever!” You accuse him, “giving you suggestions when you’ve already read them.”

“There were a couple that I had not read.” He admits, flushing and giving a small chuckle when he pulls you into his arms for a quick hug. “You are clever and it was worth it to see your face brighten up happily to have someone ask your opinion.” He murmurs, his hands lingering on your waist as he stares into your eyes. 

You place your palms on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and you’re certain he can hear your own as his fingers grip your waist. You bite your lip and look into those eyes, dipping down to look at those plush lips before someone behind you clears their throat. You quickly jump out of his arms and spin around, facing his butler who holds a silver tray, two cups and a pot of chocolate on there.

“Thank you, Wilson.” He gestures over towards the sofa. “If you will place it there, I don’t think we will need anything else tonight.” He murmurs quietly. “Take the rest of the evening off and let the others know as well. If we need anything, we can get it for ourselves.” 

Wilson carries the tray over and sets it on the coffee table in front of the cold fireplace before he stands and nods at Ezra. “Goodnight, sir, ma’am.” He says before he turns and walks out of the library. 

You turn back to look at Ezra, flustered once again at being caught getting closer to him. You step away and make your way over to the sofa, sitting down and reaching for the pot, pouring both you and Ezra a cup. “Come sit down before this gets cold” You order softly.

Ezra smiles and makes his way over to you and to sit beside you on the sofa. He imagines this very setting months from now, a cheery fire in the hearth, crackling and spilling warmth into the library while the cold outside doesn’t touch either one of you. “Thank you.” He murmurs when you pass him a cup of the rich drink. 

You moan again at the rich taste, not noticing the way Ezra nearly chokes on his chocolate cup. You close your eyes for a moment and savor the taste. “I never have had this before” You confess, chocolate was something you had tried a few times in your life but it wasn’t something you ate often. You hum in enjoyment as you sip before you stifle your yawn, exhausted from a life changing day.

“Come, little bird.” Ezra sets his own cup down to come back to later and stands to take the tray. “Let’s go get you set up in your room. You can finish your chocolate there before you go to bed.” He insists, knowing that you would try to stay up and he doesn’t want you exhausted. “If you would like, I can start a bath for you.” 

You nod, standing up and picking up your cup. You make your way to the suite you’ve been assigned and Ezra makes his way into the bathroom to turn on the water. “You don’t need to run the bath, I could’ve done that Ezra” You tut softly, not wanting to inconvenience him.

Ezra brings out fluffy towels from the cabinet and sets them beside the tub and adds some of the oils that Sally, the housekeeper, had put in the bathroom for you into the hot water. He had made sure that she had stocked it with everything a lady would need, not wanting to embarrass you if you did not even have the basic necessities. 

He comes out and gives you a slightly embarrassed grin and a half shrug. “Forgive me. I merely wish to make your first night in new accommodations as welcoming as possible, little bird.” He tells you, walking over and leaning in to kiss your cheek. “If you need anything, I am right next door.”

Your stomach twists at the news that he is next door. You watch him walk over to the door before you speak. “Thank you Ezra. For everything” You say softly and he looks back at you, offering you a soft smile. Your heart flutters at the look on his face until he disappears out of the bathroom. You cannot believe you’re here but you promise yourself that you’re going to enjoy every moment of this while it lasts. You know that you’re going to be back on the streets eventually but you will savor every moment of this time with the other half.

Morning brings Ezra to the dining room with a spring in his step. Never a morning person, he had woken up early, completely refreshed. He smiles at Wilson and Sally when they come into the room. “Good morning. Has my lovely little bird woken yet?” He asks Sally who shakes her head. 

“No, she has not come out of her rooms yet.” 

Ezra nods. “Today, we will be out for most of the day but I would like to see about making sure we have a maid for her, to help her dress and take care of anything that she might need. I don’t want to add to your chores, Sally. Would you see to it?” He asks.

“Yes, Mr. Ezra.” 

You dress in your best dress, the one you wore to church. You enter the dining room to find a delicious hot breakfast waiting for you. "Ezra. I- I am going to explode from all of this food. I've never eaten this much" You giggle, picking up a piece of toast. "It's truly indulgent."

He smiles and pours you a cup of hot coffee. “You only have to eat what you want, little bird.” He reminds you. “Cook is trying to impress you.” He chuckles before he offers you a section of the newspaper by his plate. “After we eat, we have some shopping to do if you are up for it.”

You take the newspaper section and look over at him, "I- I don't want you to spend too much Ezra. I- I'm not worth it." You open the newspaper section, concentrating on it so you don't have to see his eyes. 

He tuts, "no little bird. You are worth it." 

Tears spring in your eyes and you feel cared for for the first time in years. "Thank you" You say, lowering the newspaper to look at him.

He gives you a small smile and a quick nod before he opens his paper again. “Think nothing of it.” He tells you quietly and then looks back at the small print. The rest of breakfast is quiet but not stifling so, more an easy contentment and Ezra loves hearing you munch on your toast and sip your coffee while the papers rustle and he hopes that he can have this every single morning. 

When the breakfast dishes are cleared, he looks over at you with an arched eyebrow. “Are we ready to hit the town?” He asks breezily, ready to see you dressed in silk and finery. Imagining some lacy undergarments has his cock twitching but he reminds himself that it’s not about that. It’s about making sure you have everything you want.

You nod, smiling as you stand up, heading to your room to fetch your purse. Ezra guides you towards the door, your hand in his elbow as you step into the elevator. Ezra tips his hat at the elevator operator and you step out when the bell dings and he opens the door. "Have a good day sir, ma'am" He says as you make your way towards Ezra's car.

His first stop is Macy’s. He figures that you have never been there before and your eyes widen when he stops the car in front of the large department store. “We should find a lot of what you need here, but in case we don’t, there are other stores we can visit.” He turns to look at you and reaches for your hand. “Do not look at prices or calculate costs, little bird. Simply decide if it is something you wish to adorn your body or that you desire.”

You let him lead you into the store and you feel extremely underdressed compared to the beautiful women scattered around the store. Ezra guides you through to the women's department and you can't believe the dresses available. "Wow" You exhale, walking over to the silk dress.

A sale’s lady comes over, her dress pressed and her jewelry simple and classic. “May I be of some help?” She asks and Ezra turns to her. 

“Yes, we need to outfit this lovely lady with everything she needs and desires.” He tells her with a charming smile. “From her pretty little toes to her luscious locks.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation and the sales lady nods, "come this way ma'am. I will take you to our dressing room" She offers and you look back at Ezra. 

"Can- can he come with me? I'd like his opinion" You say to both her and Ezra. You want his opinion in case you pick something that won't work. You don't want to pick something inappropriate.

Ezra quickly agrees. “I would be more than happy to assist you, darling.” He doesn’t call you little bird, he doesn’t want the sales clerk to think that he’s taking advantage of you. Instead he places his hand on your back while the sales lady leads both of you to a private dressing room while signaling to several other ladies to start pulling dresses. 

“We will measure you and then bring you a collection to try or reject.” She tells you with a smile. “A shopping spree, how exciting!”

You fluster, nodding as she guides you into the dressing room, pulling the curtain across before ordering you to strip to your undergarments. You bite your lip, shy to get undressed but you strip down. She grabs her measuring tape and jots down your measurements. "Wait here and I will grab some dresses to get you started. We will get some undergarments too" She hums, noting your worn underwear.

Sitting down in a chair that is obviously designed for a waiting husband, Ezra waits while women flitter in and out of the curtain with garments and underthings and lace and silk. He hums to himself and nods in approval when one of the dresses is a deep mossy green. It will look stunning on you. He smiles at the thought and thinks to call out. “She needs nightgowns as well.”

The sales lady comes back with the undergarments, stepping outside to let you change into them but not before saying, "the undergarments are the foundation of the outfit." You quickly change, eying yourself in the mirror and you cannot believe how much better you look in the lace and silk. She steps back into the dressing room and smiles, "much better. Now, let's try this and show your husband." 

You don't correct her, liking the idea of Ezra as your husband even though it will never happen. You allow yourself a moment to indulge. She quickly helps you into a beautiful green dress and buttons it up, pulling back the curtain so you can show Ezra. You step out, a little sheepish as you meet his dark gaze.

“Exquisite.” Ezra breathes out, jaw dropping slightly and he quickly stands to stride over to you and takes your hand, spinning you around so he can get the full effect. “Yes. This is absolutely a must.” He declares, looking at the sales clerk. “One in every color you have. Except for brown. No drab colors. Her beauty should be highlighted.”

"Ezra" You tut, overwhelmed already and you shift to look at the handwritten price tag on the sleeve but he quickly bats your hand away. 

"Do not fret over silly things such as money, darling" He shakes his head. 

You nod, heart fluttering at the new pet name. "Very well. I shall have to think of another way to repay you" You tell him seriously and the sales ladies giggle, making your brow furrow with curiosity. Wondering what you said that is funny.

Ezra bites his lip so he doesn’t smirk, the innocence in your comment makes him want to pull you on his lip and whisper dirty things in your ear until your entire body is on fire for him. “What else do you have for her?” He asks, letting go of your hand to allow them to pull you back into the dressing room. 

“Your husband is very handsome, ma’am.” One of the girls whispers to you while she helps you unbutton the dress. “I’m sure it is no problem being with him.”

You hum in agreement, not wanting to say anything to either confirm or deny her words. Ezra is handsome. The most handsome man you've ever seen despite that small scar on his cheek, but it's his brain that attracts you the most. His knowledge of literature could bring you to your knees...especially when combined with the smooth accent. 

You decide to repay Ezra in a way that you would both enjoy. You were innocent in your previous question but you weren't a virgin. Fooled by your first love into giving him your innocence before he left to fight in the Great War. He died during the war and you were thankfully without children despite your various couplings. You want to see the pleasure on Ezra's face, whisper things you've only read in erotic novels in his ear. You lower your voice and ask the sales woman if she had a riskier nightgown, one that your husband might enjoy.

She gives you a knowing smile and winks before she leaves the dressing area again. You try on several dresses and choose two out of the three before she comes back with several negligees. “We just got these in from France. Your husband will love them.” She whispers, blushing slightly as she holds them up.

You smile and pick the green one since he seems to love that color. She helps you into it and hands you the matching silk robe. "Would you mind giving us some privacy?" You ask, already a little flustered but you are channeling the characters from your erotica novels. "Yes ma'am" She nods, stepping out of the room and calling for her assistants to take a break. You exhale shakily and pull back the curtain, stepping out to face Ezra. Praying he likes what he sees.

He nearly swallows his tongue. Eyes widening before he scrubs his hands down his pants legs and averts his eyes. “Little bird-“ he croaks out, swallowing harshly and his eyes drag back over to your body wrapped in green silk and lace. “I- you don’t have to have me approve your nightgowns.” He jokes weakly, his cock straining against his fly already and he’s just seen you walking towards him. 

You smile and stride over to him, "you are purchasing them. I want to make sure I have your approval." Your voice is as sultry as you can muster and you pray it doesn't sound ridiculous. You bite your lip and bend over towards him, resting your hands on his knees. "Tell me Ezra, do you approve?" You ask, biting your lip and you know he can see your cleavage from this angle.

“Fuck.” Ezra bites out, fingers digging into his thighs. “You- you are a siren, meant to tempt me to my death and like the foolish sailors, I would happily jump into the stormy waters of the sea for just a chance to touch such exquisite beauty.” He tells you honestly, imagining dragging you against him right now. “If you don’t want that, I suggest you walk back behind that curtain, little bird.”

You don't answer, instead you shift to sit down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I want that" You promise, running your nose along his jaw to inhale the scent of his expensive cologne. You see the way his fingers twitch and you can't help but kiss the space beneath his ear. "I want you" You declare breathily, meaning every word.

Ezra groans and his fingers dig into your ass with a hunger that surprises even him. He rocks your body against the stiff length in his trousers and he presses his lips to your eagerly, groaning into your mouth when you open up shyly to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. 

You moan into the kiss. Your entire body feels like it's on fire and his eclectic nature translates into his actions, his tongue caressing yours softly while his hands squeeze your ass. You gasp into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his slicked back hair to ruin the style, tugging as your rapidly dampening core presses against his turgid length. 

"Ezra" You whimper when he allows you a moment to breathe, opting to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. You feel breathless and giddy, your heart pounding and you reach down to unbutton his trousers, wanting to touch him.

“Little bird.” He groans and reaches for your hands to stop you for a moment. “Do you- do you really want our first time to be in a department store dressing room?” He asks you, panting but concern showing in his eyes. He wants to make sure you don’t regret this, regret him. “Have- have you ever had a man before?” He isn’t judging you but he would feel like the lowest cad if he took your virginity anywhere other than a bed.

You freeze, knowing it was too good to be true. You shift off of his lap and stand in front of him, tears springing in your eyes as you nod. "I have. My- my first love. He was killed during the war. We were going to get married but he had to leave before we could. He never came back" You confess. "I'm sorry Ezra" You shake your head, "let me go change."

Ezra stands and cups your cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for, little bird.” He murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours softly until you melt against him again. “I do not seek to judge you for your love, I merely wish to do right by you. I imagined a bed for our first, passionate coupling.” He admits. “Where I can take my time with you and learn your body and worship it like you deserve.”

You whimper at his words, caressing his chest over his waistcoat. "I can't wait" You confess, kissing his lips one more time. "I should change, there are other things to try" You pull away with a smirk, making your way back into the dressing room. You grab the swimming costume Ezra had insisted you try in case you decide to go to the pool in his building. 

You quickly get into it and step back out in front of Ezra, spinning around now that your confidence has returned. "Little bird...you look- you look exquisite" He murmurs, making your confidence soar. 

"You like it?" You ask, showing him your legs on full display. 

"Yes" He nods, his voice raspy and you grin when he crosses his legs. 

"Can you call them back in? I have a few dresses I cannot button alone" You ask and he nods. You can't help but tease him, reaching behind you to tug on the tie of your top, exposing your back to his greedy eyes, the side of your breast exposed as you let the top drop a little down your arms before you disappear back into the dressing room.

Ezra has to adjust himself before he calls the other women back into the dressing room and from the looks on their faces, they all assume that you and he had just had sex. There are more dresses in their arms and he pulls the one lady aside and shakes his head. “That- nightwear she tried on, I insist that one of every color be included as well as any others in a similar style.” He tells her, his voice rough with lust. 

You can’t wipe the grin off of your face and the sales lady giggles, “I take it he liked it?” 

You nod, “he did.” 

She smirks knowingly and you don’t correct her. Ezra is a handsome man and you would be happy to be in his company intimately for a while until he decides to kick you out. You need to repay him for his kindness and if you can watch the pleasure on his face while you do that…it will be worth it. You change into another dress, a deep purple one that hits mid calf. It’s beautiful and the sales lady pairs it with a hat, pinning it to your hair. “Go show your husband. Maybe something like this for a romantic dinner?” She suggests as she pulls back the curtain.

“Oh little bird.” Ezra loves the confidence in your walk as you come out from behind the curtain. “You are simply Aphrodite herself.” He coos, willing himself to stay in the chair and not reach for you. It would be unfair of him to cut your shopping trip short in his haste to plant you in his bed. “It’s a dress meant to be seen. Perhaps dinner out one night?” He asks, imagining walking into his favorite place to dine with you on his arm and enjoying an evening of conversation with you. 

"You spoil me Ezra" You shake your head and the girls all awe when he says, "you deserve it darling." You stare at him for a moment before you decide to be daring. Leaning down to kiss his lips softly then making your way back into the dressing room. It feels like a dream, like it can't possibly be true that the handsome, smart man wants you. 

You change into another dress that the sales lady brings out. An evening gown that goes down to the floor but exposes a decent amount of cleavage, it's sexy yet classy and no doubt costs more than all the money you've ever made in your life. "Let's go see if his jaw drops to the floor" The sales lady teases as she opens the curtain.

It does. Ezra almost springs out of his seat and nods appreciatively. “We will have a party, simply for you to display this exquisite dress.” He declares, coming over and taking your hand to bend over you and kiss the back of it with a flourish. “I shall be horribly jealous of every man that lays eyes on your beauty and equally boastful of having you on my arm.” He smiles when you giggle, but he means every word of it. 

After trying on a few more dresses, the assistants begin to package everything up and Ezra is taken to the counter to purchase the clothing. "You will need shoes too my darling" He says and your eyes widen as he begins to pull out multiple wads of cash. "Ezra...maybe we should put some of the clothes back. I don't need that much. A dress or two" You tell him.

Ezra tuts and shakes his head at you. “Remember what I said in the car, darling. Do not worry about the price.” He shrugs easily. “I have nothing else that I would rather spend my money on and I have plenty to spare.” He leans over and kisses your hair, softly. “Please?” 

You sigh in defeat and nod, smiling at him before you turn your head to kiss his cheek. "Thank you" You murmur, leaning back so he can finish paying. Once the clothes are paid for, he guides you to the shoe department and you end up picking out several pairs. Ezra also insists on several purses and even buying you some new lipsticks. "Ezra" You scold him but after a while, you just accept that he wants to purchase this for you. Perhaps when he grows sick of you, he can return it or sell it all.

The car is loaded down with boxes and bags, making Ezra chuckle and he turns to you with a grin. “Shall we continue shopping or would you rather return to our home so you can see how everything looks in your dressing room?” He asks, knowing that as efficient as Sally is, your new maid will be waiting as well to assist you. 

“I don’t think there’s anything left for you to buy me” You chuckle, “you have bought me more things that I have ever owned in my life” You reveal and Ezra frowns. 

“That has changed now little bird” He vows and lifts your hand up to kiss the back of it. The soft kiss makes your heart flutter and you remind yourself to not get too tangled up. This is likely a game for him. Part of you wonders if he has done this with others before you. What was their fate? 

You soon arrive back at his home and the valet opens the door for you. Ezra tips him to bring the packages up and he nods, “yes sir.”

Ezra tucks your hand around his arm and keeps a hold on you while you make your way through the lobby and on the elevator. Patting your hand and smiling at you when you’ve arrived on your floor. “We will have a flurry of activity while they bring up the boxes, little bird.” He muses and the butler opens the door with a flourish to show Sally and a pretty young girl in a sharp uniform standing just in the hallway. 

“Mr. Ezra, this is Dolly, she has impeccable references as a lady’s maid and is eager to assist our Miss.” She tells him with a smile. Ezra turns to you with a grin. 

“Little bird?” He asks, wanting your opinion on the woman that will be your maid. 

You realize this lady’s maid is for you and you look at Ezra, admonishing him with your eyes for spending even more money, adding someone to his staff when it’s unlikely she will be here by the end of the year. You certainly won’t. “Hello Dolly. It’s a pleasure to meet you” You greet her with a soft smile. 

“The pleasure is mine ma’am” She says and you shake your head, “please. Call me by my name.” You insist.

“Yes ma’am.” Dolly nods and Ezra chuckles, knowing that you will have a time getting her to call you by your first name. There is a discreet knock at the door and Ezra looks at Wilson. 

“There will be a lot of parcels brought up from the car, we were very successful today.” He looks at you, heat in his eyes. “I will be in the library for a bit so that you can get everything set up how you like.” He hopes you find the perfume that he had added at the last minute. “Come find me when you are finished.”

You nod, offering him a thankful look before you follow Dolly to your new bedroom. The various boxes are scattered around the room and you can’t believe how much Ezra purchased. You fluster at the negligee you tried on, he’d bought it in various colors. You bite your lip and Dolly blushes as she puts them away for you. 

“How long have you and Mr. Ezra been together?” She asks and you avoid her eyes as you open the dress box. 

“We aren’t together. He- we met at a bookshop and he’s a very kind man. Helping me when I had nowhere to go” You confess, unwrapping the small box and gasping at the beautiful perfume bottle. You smile and pull the dabber out, sniffing the divine and delicate scent Ezra had picked out. You’d wear it later during dinner.

“My apologies, ma’am.” Dolly tells you, biting her lip. “I have never seen a man buy things like this for a woman he isn’t with or wants to be with.” She moves over to the hat boxes and sighs when she pulls out the lovely hats and pins. “He is very generous.” She comments as she places them on a shelf. Soon your dressing room is stuffed with dresses and shoes, looking for the world like a lady’s boudoir. 

You hum in agreement at your comment, never wanting the world to think you are a gold digger but you know that’s what society will say. Or you’re his mistress which is far more realistic. You want Ezra. There’s no way to deny that. Soon enough, you are dressing for dinner after enjoying lunch in your suite earlier. 

Ezra had a business meeting to attend so he asked Cook to prepare lunch for you in his absence. Dolly helps you dress, putting you in the green dress he loved earlier and dabbing the perfume on your skin. It’s the nicest thing you’ve ever worn and you quickly make your way into the sitting room to meet Ezra before dinner.

Ezra hated having to leave you today, especially given what had almost happened in the dressing room of the department store but he had to attend the meeting. Quickly making his way home with eagerness, and a small gift wrapped up, he barely has time to change before it’s time for dinner. Making his way to the sitting room only to pour a single drink before you are walking in. 

He turns and his breath catches at the sight of you walking towards him in the green dress. “Little bird….you are stunning.” He notices that you are wearing one of your new lipsticks and he smiles at the thought of the silver compact he has in his pocket for you. Turning he offers you the brandy he had poured for himself. “Shall we enjoy a drink before dinner?” He asks with a smile. 

Your fingers brush his as you take the glass from his hand. “You look very handsome too” You say, admiring him in the new suit. It’s a navy blue that brings out his brown eyes. “This- this is the nicest thing I’ve ever worn” You confess, caressing the silk material. “You- you have thoroughly spoiled me Ezra” You tell him with a tut of disapproval.

“Good.” He gives a small chuckle at your small pout. “I want to spoil you, you are very much deserving to be showered with praise and tokens of affection.” He turns back to the beverage cart so you cannot see the blush that is stealing across his face. He wants you to be so happy here that you never consider leaving while he woos you. 

He’s not a man who does things by half measures and he has decided that you are a perfect match for him. He pours his drink and turns around to pull a wrapped package out of his jacket. "I also picked this up for you while I was out. I saw it and knew you had to have it."

You frown, “you’ve already gotten me-” 

He cuts you off, “please open it, darling.” Your heart flutters at the pet name outside of the department store. You take the small package and tug on the string, opening the patterned paper. You open the velvet box and inhale sharply at the silver compact. 

“Ezra” You exhale and he takes the box so you can open it. It’s engraved. ‘To my little bird’ and tears spring in your eyes as you look between the compact and Ezra. “It’s beautiful”

“I am ecstatic that you like it.” Ezra smiles and reaches over to brush away your tears before they can slide down your cheeks. “My mother always said that a lady should have a sturdy compact and a beautiful lipstick.” He tells you softly. “With that, she can rule the world.”

You nod in agreement and snap the compact shut. “Thank you” You say again and tilt your head up to kiss his cheek. “Is your mother still alive?” You ask, keeping hold of the compact and you reach up to caress his cheek, wiping away your lipstick from his skin. A gentle sweep of your thumb that has your heart thumping at the look in his eyes.

Ezra shakes his head, a shadow passing over his eyes that he blinks away. “I’m afraid not, little bird. My mother and father were unfortunate enough to be on a ship when it sank. Horrible little beast named the Titanic.” He had been supposed to be with them, traveling home. Instead he had stayed in London in order to spend another week with chums from Oxford.

Your eyes widen, “oh my gosh. Ezra. I- I’m so sorry” You whisper, knowing how tragic the Titanic sinking had been, remembering it as a young teen. “That is awful” You shake your head and surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, thanking God that he wasn’t on that boat too. You would have never met him and someone like Ezra makes the world a more interesting place.

His arm comes around you and holds you close. “Don’t worry little bird, I have made my peace with it.” He murmurs, heart thumping at how kind you are to him despite having never met his parents. “What about your parents?” He asks, wondering how you would find yourself homeless and without aid. “Are they still living?” 

You bite your lip as you lean back from him, his arms still around your waist and your palms resting against his chest. “My mother died…she died giving birth to me. I was the youngest. I had three older brothers. One died when he was sixteen from the Spanish flu. The other two died in the war. My father…he’s still alive but he's a drunkard. Always chasing money however he can without actually having a job. Eventually, I had to leave home because he was…he was trying to sell me to pay off his gambling debts.”

Ezra’s jaw tightens and he grinds his teeth at the idea of your father trying to sell you. “I loathe to think of you experiencing such a harrowing existence, but I cannot regret it bringing you into my life.” He murmurs, staring into your eyes. He glances down at your lips and his own part in anticipation, nearling leaning in to kiss you again when there is the sound of a cleared throat behind you. 

“Dinner is served.” Wilson tells Ezra.

You swear he was about to kiss you and you step away as he leads you into the dining room, pulling your chair out before Wilson can. “Thank you” You say softly as Wilson grabs your napkin and lays it over your lap. “I cannot believe this is real,” You confess during dessert of chocolate fondant. You had enjoyed a beautiful tomato soup followed by lamb chops. “It seems like a dream and I pray I do not wake up” You tell Ezra.

He spoons up some of his dessert and sends you an indulgent smile. “To tarry within a dream is what most of us wish for. As long as it is not a nightmare, you stay in it as long as possible.” He coos softly, wishing that he was brave enough to tell you that he is falling for you. That he wishes for nothing more than you to stay with him forever. 

“Have you decided what you would wish to have for this evening’s entertainment?” He asks, not willing to assume that you were still wanting him. “I was hoping to adjourn back to the sitting room so that you can hear one of my favorite pieces on the phonograph?” 

You nod, “sounds good.” You quickly finish the dessert and make your way into the sitting room, watching Ezra walk over to the phonograph. He selects a record and lines it up until soft jazz begins to play in the room. You close your eyes on enjoyment, swaying softly to the music. “I love this one but I’ve only ever heard it on the street with buskers” You tell him.

Ezra watches you for a moment, your head softly swaying with the music and he swears you feel the music in your soul. Swift steps carry him over to the chair you had selected and he is reaching for your hand. Your eyes open in confusion as he pulls you up, but he tugs you away from the furniture. 

“Dance with me, little bird.” He murmurs, gathering you close as he starts to move in time to the music with the most beautiful woman he has ever known, the soft light from the lamps illuminating the room and the music giving you a sense of being the only two people in the house.  

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re certain he can hear it above the soft jazz playing. His hand confidently grips your waist and you hold his other hand. Your free hand on his shoulder as he sways you to the music. You look into those dark brown eyes and your lips part, the desire to kiss him again is overwhelming.

He wants to romance you, show you how precious you are to him. His footsteps are light, as if he is floating on a cloud and his eyes flicker down to your lips again, his tongue running over his bottom lip to wet it. 

“Little bird…” He whispers, slowly lowering his head and giving you time to push him away if you are not welcoming his advances. You don’t though, you seem to hold him tighter and he sighs when he presses his lips to yours again. 

You trail your hand along his shoulder to the back of his neck, your lips pressed against his. His hand caresses your back and you sigh into the kiss. Your body feels like it’s on fire as his tongue licks along your lower lip. You gasp and grant him access, your tongue tentatively meeting his.

Ezra groans into your mouth, loving the innocence in your kiss. While you might have been with another man, he in no way faults you for it. You are a beautiful woman and he cannot judge when he has made love to other women. His tongue sweeps into your mouth to taste you and map all the places that make you gasp out in pleasure while he holds you close, his cock hardening and pressing against your hip. 

You kiss him, eyes closed as you tangle your fingers in his slicked back locks. His cock hardens against your hip and you whimper into his mouth, pushing closer to him. You want him. It’s undeniable how much you want him. You tug him closer and press yourself against his hardening cock, letting him know you are ready.

“Little bird.” He trails his lips along your jaw to your ear when he nips on your lobe gently. “I would like to take you to bed.” He admits softly. “Stretch you out and find every spot on your body that brings you pleasure.” He slides his hands down to cup your ass and rock you against him. “Tell me that this idea is agreeable to you.” He begs, knowing that if you are not okay with it he will let you go, even as he aches to take you. 

You whimper and peck his lips. “Please Ezra. I- I need you. Please. Take me to bed. I want- I want you” You declare breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest at his touch and he’s barely begun. You take his hands from your ass and take his hand in yours. “I’m yours” You promise.

He’s too eager to even turn off the record player, taking your hand and hurrying you out of the sitting room and down the hall to his bedroom. He opens the door and holds it open for you, loath to let go of your hand but wanting you to walk into his room under your own power. When you do, he quickly follows, closing the door behind him and turning the key in the lock to afford you privacy. The last thing he wants is one of the servants to interrupt the two of you. 

“Darling, you are so lovely.” Ezra breathes. “A sparkling gem shimmering and waiting to be admired.” He reaches out and cups your cheek and his hand on your hip slides up to turn you around so he can help you out of your dress. 

You exhale shakily as he begins unbuttoning the dress, your palms a little sweaty. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with a man. You let the dress fall down your body to pool at your feet, displaying the lace and silk undergarments he’d purchased for you. You turn around to face him, his dark eyes dipping to trail along your body and you swear you’re on fire.

“You tempt a man to get down on his knees for you little bird.” He murmurs, sinking down to his knees so that he can remove your heels and start to unbuckle the straps from your garters. Rolling your silk stockings down your thighs, he leans in and presses his lips to your knee and calf as he lifts them up, eyes dark and fixed on your face. 

You can’t take your eyes off of his as he kisses along your thigh until he reaches your silk covered core. He presses his cheek against your thigh, his nose nudges your clit through the silk as he inhales your scent. You whimper at the sensation and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to not tug when you become impatient to feel him in any way he is willing to touch you.

His fingers slide up under your garter to pull down your panties. Revealing damp curls and his mouth waters at the sight of your uncovered cunt. He groans when he pulls them down and wastes no time lifting one of your legs up onto his shoulders, too eager to make it to his bed before he tastes you. On his knees in the middle of his bedroom floor, he leans in and licks through your folds, moaning at your taste before he buries his face in your cunt. 

“Ezra” You cry out softly, his tongue is eager and you have never experienced this kind of pleasure before. You gasp when his tongue laps at your clit and you tug on his hair, trying to push him deeper into your cunt. “Oh God” You moan, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you look down at him, his eyes closed as he laps at your folds. “Ezra. It’s…it’s so good” You mewl.

“Ambrosia.” He groans, loving the tangy taste of your arousal and he pushes his nose against your curls while his tongue slides inside you. Hot and rich is how he would describe you, your walls gripping his tongue and he knows that you will feel like molten heaven when he finally pushes inside you. For now he needs you to cum for him, so he moves back to your clit and pulls it into his mouth so he can suck on it like a peppermint stick. 

You gasp, throwing your head back and you struggle to stay upright as he sucks on your clit. His free hand grabbing your ass to keep you upright and you fall apart. Shaking above him as you cum, soaking his chin with your juices. Your thigh shaking against his cheek, it’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. “God” You gasp, your breath taken from you as it becomes too much, pushing his face away from your sensitive core.

“Birdie, you are the richest treat I have ever had the pleasure of sampling.” He rasps out, unhooking your garter and letting it fall to the ground so that your lower half is completely bare. He springs to his feet and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself from his lips while he walks you backwards towards his bed. Eager to place you in it and bury his cock deep in your body. 

You moan, pushing his expensive dinner jacket onto the floor before tugging on his bow tie, needing to be as close to him as possible. “Please baby. Ezra” You whimper, struggling to unbutton his shirt as he pushes you back towards the bed. You fall backwards onto the plush mattress and you bite your lip, watching him finish unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off of his shoulders. He has a few scars covering his torso and you shift onto your knees, caressing one on his abdomen. “How did you get this?” You frown, stroking his lower stomach.

“Bayonet.” Ezra murmurs. “The Great War. I was in Germany in the trenches.” He tells you as you trace the scar where he had been stuck with the blade fixed to the end of an empty rifle. At the time he felt like he was going to die in that trench like so many others around him. Luckily he had been found before that could happen. 

You frown, thankful that he had survived and is here in front of you. You bend over and kiss the scar, silently thanking God for his safe return. You lean back after a moment and reach for the button of his slacks, working it open before shoving them down along with his briefs. “Ezra” You moan at the sight of his hard cock, unable to stop yourself from reaching out to wrap your fingers around it.

The moan he lets out is loud and he can’t help but thrust his hips forward into your grip before he bats your hand away. “I fear if your touch feels that good, little bird, I might disappoint you by ending things before I ever get inside you.” He kicks off his trouser and climbs up on the bed with you. Shuffling forward and stroking your legs as you lean back. “I must admit that I have imagined this vision nearly every time I have closed my eyes.” 

You fluster at his words and you stroke his neck and chest as he rescues beneath you to untie your bra. Tossing it aside after he drags it down your arms. He kisses down your neck and his hard cock presses against your inner thigh as you spread your legs to accommodate him. His kisses lead to your breast and you moan when he wraps his lip around your nipple. “Ezra” You whimper when he bites down gently.

He could listen to your sighs and moans of his name all day. His tongue soothes your skin and he switches over the other breast so he can give it the same treatment. He sucks eagerly and your fingers tangle into his hair before you tug him away from your breast. “Please Ezra.” You beg so sweetly that his cock twitches. Taking himself in hand, he groans as he lines up, pressing his lips to yours while he slowly sinks into your body. 

You close your eyes as he pushes inside of you. It’s been a long time since you took a man and you whimper when he pushes a little too deep too soon. He’s thick, stretching you. He soothes you, cooing in your ear about how good you feel as he stops until you tell him to move again. He pushes deeper and you moan as he bottoms out inside of you. Opening your eyes to meet his nearly black ones, you cup his cheeks and bring his lips to yours.

Ezra is nearly speechless. Gasping against your lips and breathing out while his tongue slides into your mouth to kiss you while he waits for you to acclimate to him. “I have reached paradise, darling.” He pants when he pulls back, lowering himself to slide his arms under your back. “For surely I will never find a more superb feeling than being embraced by your magnificent figure.” He kisses your lips again and nuzzles his nose against yours. 

You hum in pleasure at his words, feeling molten hot all over. “Oh God Ezra. I- this is heaven. It’s with you” You resonate his sentiment despite the nagging feeling in your brain that this is the prospect of a release talking. You whimper when he twitches inside of you and you beg him to move, needing to see the pleasure on his beautiful face.

He tries to keep his pace slow and steady but the overwhelming feeling of your walls squeezing him has him rucking back his hips to push forward quicker and quicker as he pants and moans against your lips. Trembling on top of you as he tries to hold out to make sure that your experience with him is not one of bitter disappointment. 

“I- fuck, little bird.” He gasps out, pulling one hand from under you to reach down between you so that he can rub your clit while he continues to move inside you. “So good, magnificent, exquisite, marvelous.” He babbles. 

His babbling makes you clench around him, gasping as you grip his shoulders. “Oh Ezra. You feel so good. So good. Fuck” You curse and his cock twitches inside of you. “I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth little bird” He grins and you clench around him when he rubs your clit a little faster. “Ezra. Ezra. Ezra!” You ramble until you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him with your juices. “Fuck” You curse breathlessly, eyes clenched shut as you shake with pleasure.

The feeling of your juices rushing over him has Ezra choking out a curse. “F-fuck.” He hurriedly slides his arm from around him and pushes up, pulling out of your body. His hand wrapped around his cock and he only had to tug one, twice - the sound slick with your cum- before he is spilling. Hot ropes of cum spurt out to paint your stomach and thighs while he cries out your name loudly.

You watch the pleasure play out on his face as he looms above you and it makes you shiver, walls clenching around nothing as he slumps, letting go of his now softening cock. “That was…truly magnificent to watch” You tell him honestly and reach down to swipe your finger through his cum. Bringing your hand to your face so you can suck on the digit.

Collapsing next to you, he hums as he leans in and pulls your fingers out of your mouth so he can kiss you. The salty tang of his cum is on your lips but he does care. “Little bird…..” he is lost for words and he nuzzles into you as he tries to catch his breath. “You are a vision.” He murmurs, looking down and feeling very possessive as he sees your body painted with his seed.

You snuggle into his side as best as you can while his cum dries on your skin. “You are incredible Ezra. Any woman would be lucky to be your wife. You’re going to meet her one day soon” You sigh, shifting to caress his chest as you dream of being his wife one day but it’s never going to happen.

He hums, not wanting to voice that he’s already met the woman that he wants to be his wife. It’s too soon to spring that on you. Better for you to get used to the life that he leads before asking you to be his wife and join his world. “Let me clean you up, little bird.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek and he brushes your hair back. “Would you... like to stay the night with me or would you rather go back to your own bed?” 

You bite your lip, wanting to stay in his arms tonight and every night from now on. However, you know that doing that would result in you falling even more for him. Something that can’t happen. You would only get your heart broken. You shift away from him, already feeling cold and look down at him. “I- I would rather go back to my own bed” You inform him softly.

Ezra doesn’t show you that he is disappointed in your decision, he had given you the choice. Instead he shuffles away and gives you a quick nod. “Of course, little bird. Let me wipe you up and I shall have your reinstalled in your own quarters post haste.” He doesn’t bother with a dressing gown as he walks into his bathroom to get a towel to clean you off with. 

Hurrying back so that you don’t have to wait too long, he cleans you up and gathers your clothes for you. “There is a door that connects our spaces so you don’t have to be seen leaving my room, little bird.” He wants you to not be embarrassed if you run into a servant, feeling your slight shift in behavior when you had moved away from him and interpreting it as not wanting people to know. 

You nod, not wanting to go but you can’t let yourself fall any deeper than you already have. When he meets someone worthy of him, someone of equal status, you’ll be back on the street. “Thank you” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before you take your clothes from him, making your way to the connecting door. He follows you and you turn just before you reach the door. “Goodnight Ezra” You murmur.

“Goodnight darling.” He murmurs, watching you slip out of the door and back into your room before he sighs. You know the door exists now and he hopes that he will be able to touch you again. Still, it will always be your decision to let him into your body and hopefully your heart. 

“Little bird, you are a vision.” Ezra breaths, standing up and smoothing his hand over his very formal suit. The house has been transformed and in just a few minutes, guests will be arriving to the party Ezra has set up. Secretly to start easing you into society. 

He smiles and walks over to you before he pulls a slim case out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “There is only one thing that will render you perfect.” He murmurs, opening the case to reveal a bracelet that he had made for you. 

You gasp, eying the jewellery. In the weeks that you’ve been in his home, he has spoiled you. Despite your protests, he’d bought you more clothes and shoes than you’d ever wear. You’d also displayed every single negligee that he’d purchased, all of them ending up on the floor as he ravished you. You’ve been breathless from his kisses and his touch until you had given in and spent the night in his bed. Since that night a few weeks ago, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms. It’s official: you love Ezra. 

It’s easy to fall for a man who admires you for who you are. Assisting you as you rearranged the library until he took you against the shelving, making you cry out his name. It’s been a dream and you pray every night that it doesn’t end. “It’s beautiful” You whisper, tentatively reaching out to caress the bracelet in the velvet box. “You shouldn’t have. You spoil me too much Ezra” You tut. 

He huffs and takes the bracelet from it’s display and wraps it around your wrist. There is a special engraving on the inside of the piece, but he wants you to find it for yourself. Surprising you with the inscription he had etched into the gold. “Every creature as magnificent as you should be spoiled beyond comparison.” He tells you, closing the clasp and admiring the piece on you. 

He is completely in love with you and hopes that after tonight you will accept another piece of jewelry to wear. The ring that sits in his safe and was on his grandmother’s finger until the day it was passed down to him for his future wife. He leans over and kisses the back of your hand. “You deserve far more than I could ever hope to shower on you, darling.” 

You sigh, knowing you won’t win the argument you’ve been having with him since you arrived about spoiling you. You tilt your head to kiss him softly, murmuring “thank you.” Your stomach twists when you pull back, you’ve been nervous for this night for days. “What if…what if your friends don’t like me?” You ask softly.

“I shall then endeavor to find new friends.” Ezra is only partially joking. “Darling, it is inconceivable that they would not be completely enamored with you.” He assures you, patting your hand gently. Ezra is honestly worried about himself, the need to perform in a manner that they expected him to. Amongst his friends, he has a larger personality than what he shows you when it is the two of you alone. “I fear I shall have to keep you close so that no one steals you away.” 

You smile and reach up to cup his cheek, his jaw is freshly shaven and you caress the smooth skin. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I shall be by your side as long as you want me” You promise, meaning both tonight and forever. The bracelet jangles and you admire it, unable to believe he purchased such a beautiful piece for you. “I love the bracelet, it’s…incredible. Did you go back to Harry Winston?” You ask, wondering where he went for such a beautiful piece of art.

Nodding he smirks slightly. “I thought you seemed awestruck when we browsed his new store.” He had taken you out shopping, also to have his grandmother’s ring cleaned and checked to make sure the setting was secure for when he presented it to you. 

Harry Winston was where he knew he wanted to entrust that ring. You had positively glowed at the selection. “This bracelet holds a mystery for you to puzzle during our little get together.” He tells you with a wink when the knocker at the door is heard. “It’s time, darling.” He murmurs, straightening his jacket and offering you his arm. 

You frown at his words, wondering what the bracelet is keeping secret. You don’t have time to dwell on it or take the bracelet off as you take his arm, letting him guide you down the hall. The dress you’d worn the first time you had gone shopping hugs your curves as you let him lead you to the front door. The butler is standing there already and when Ezra nods, he opens the front door.

Thirty minutes later, the house is overflowing with friends and conversation. The staff, along with the extra help that he had hired for the evening are passing out glasses of punch and champagne and silver trays are ladened down with canapés. Ezra introduces you around and is proud of how easily you seem to fit into the world that he is forced to move in, his smile and laugh loud and boisterous as everyone comes to greet him. 

You haven’t seen this side for Ezra before. Part of you can see the facade, the glimmer when he laughs at something you say is missing as he laughs at the repeated jokes, several men tell the same joke and Ezra politely laughs. You see the women eyeing you in the corner, well aware they are wondering what you are doing here. 

You aren’t the daughter of some wealthy investor and his socialite wife. You can play it up all you want but you aren’t not like these people. Ezra belongs here but you don’t, no matter how much dress up you play. You see the women chattering away across the room, looks and the occasional finger pointed your way.

Ezra gives an internal sigh when he feels fingers that are most definitely not yours on his arm. “Ezra” The voice coos, tone seemingly delighted to see him. “It has been too long since I have seen you.” He turns and gives Barbara Adams his most charming smile. 

“Barbara, you know that I am a busy man.” He murmurs, peeling her fingers off his coat and leaning down to kiss it like was expected of him. “I meant no offense by my absence and you can see that I have made sure to invite you to this intimate gathering of close friends.” 

“Yet you’ve not spoken to me in months. Pray tell what has been keeping you busy and away from our lunches?” Barbara asks, battering her eyelashes. She doesn’t acknowledge you except for a quick look before she is looking at Ezra again. “I’ve missed you” She coos.

“I have missed our conversations as well, Babs.” He couldn’t very well tell her that he was bored with the same topics being discussed over and over again until he felt like beating his head against a wall. That there was nothing that they really had in common other than the status of their birth and he had come to realize that she wasn’t a very good person. His last luncheon with her had been where she had berated a waiter for not bringing her an extra plate of lemons for her tea. 

Barbara smiles at him and reaches for his hand, squeezing it. “I have been thinking during our time apart” She tells him and you wonder how well he knows her. Has she ever been in his bed? It’s likely with the way she is looking at him. She’s everything you’re not, a perfect socialite and you know she’d be a socially acceptable match for him. Something that you never will be. You try to glance around the room, looking elsewhere as she says “I have a proposition.”

Ezra hums, hoping that Barbara will not continue talking and he glances around for someone to distract her. However, the gods are not favoring him and she gives him what he is sure she believes is a very beguiling smile. “I think that you and I should announce an engagement. A union of our names. You do need to start thinking about heirs.” 

Ezra swallows and prays that you are not near to hear this. He gives Barbara’s hand a pat and is thankful that no one else is paying attention. “We can discuss that later in a more….appropriate setting.” He tells her, not wanting to decline her proposition right here in front of this group. 

You frown, wondering why Ezra didn’t reject her proposal right away. He’s never been one to mince words and he’s fully capable of declining her proposal without offending her. Tears prick in your eyes and you don’t look at Ezra, standing there with your glass of champagne. You feel like a fraud. You’re never going to be good enough for him. You clearly don’t fit it and you don’t have the approval of his friends if their looks towards you say anything. 

You step away from behind Ezra, he still hasn’t seen you, and you make your way to your bedroom. Tears now stream down your cheeks as you grab your ratty suitcase, grabbing the items you came with and changing into the dress you kept in the back of the closet. Always knowing this day would come. You quickly scribble a note, informing Ezra of your departure and thanking him for the best time in your life. Telling him you hope he is happy with his new fiancé. You swiftly leave, exiting out the servants entrance with the staff all busy attending to the guests.

Ezra frowns as he searches for your presence in the room, unable to spot you. “Excuse me.” He murmurs, nodding to a few people who are gathered around him and walking over to where Wilson is guarding the door. “Have you seen my little bird?” He asks the butler, wanting to see how you are holding up under the pressure of meeting so many new people. 

“I have not, sir.” Wilson informs him.

He sighs and nods, hoping that you have just gone to powder your nose and will return quickly so he can latch onto you and prevent Barbara from continuing her talk of their upcoming engagement. He has never been interested in her and will never be, eager to make you his intended as soon as everyone leaves tonight. 

Barbara eventually corners Ezra, “now darling. We can announce our engagement tonight if you wish?” Barbara smiles, touching his arm. He is still looking for you but Barbara distracts him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ezra, don’t be coy. We both know we have always had…chemistry. Lets not forget that night” She coos, a smirk on her lips.

One night, one that he regrets because he had left her bed feeling nothing in his soul. She had never made him feel a quarter of what you do when you send him a sweet smile. “I am afraid that there has been some grave miscommunication.” Ezra reaches up and pulls her hand away from his cheek and lets it fall to her side. “I have been remiss in informing you that I - my affections are already claimed by another, Barbara. I am hoping to announce my betrothal to her very soon.” 

Barbara’s eyes narrow, “you mean the little street rat you have in your home? The charity case. We all know you get lonely Ezra but surely a dog would’ve been better company than her?” Barbara asks. “She is…temporary. A little fun for you before you settle down. Surely you don’t think she is capable of being your wife? Of living in our world? Hosting your parties? She’s not worthy of being your wife. I am” Barbara hisses, vitriol in her tone.

Ezra’s eyes narrow and his jaw tenses in anger at the filth that is pouring from Barbara’s mouth. It was funny that she wanted to speak like that about you when he knew that she was broke. Her brother and father have squandered away the family fortune in bad investment after bad investment. 

“She is not a charity case nor a street rat.” He keeps his tone level although the volume does go up slightly. He is the wealthiest one in this entire apartment and if his ‘friends’ didn’t approve, they could leave. “She might not have been raised in the same luxury that you have, however, she has more thoughtful conversations beyond fashion and gossip. I sincerely doubt you would even comprehend what she is speaking about when debating Chaucer. And since when was it appropriate to insult a guest in someone’s home?” He asks before he turns to Wilson. 

“Please gather Ms. Adams coat, she is not feeling quite herself and will be leaving.” His tone is biting and he turns to the other guests. “As shall anyone else who has ill will towards my guest.” 

“Why I’ve never heard of such-” Barbara gets cut off by the butler. 

“Sir” Wilson steps closer, summoning one of the temporarily hired butlers to fetch Miss Adams’s coat. Wilson leans in to whisper in Ezra’s ear as the junior butler places Barbara’s coat on her. 

“What is it?” Ezra sighs, not wanting to handle anymore drama. 

“She’s gone.” Wilson announces quietly, “Dolly told me she has taken the things she came here with and left.”

“Shit.” Ezra blows out a breath and looks around the room filled with people that he knows and all he wanted was for everyone to leave. He doesn’t care about the party. He turns to Wilson and nods. “Tell Dolly to meet me in her room and make sure that Ms. Adams and anyone else who doesn’t approve leaves my home.” He tells him before he walks away towards the hallway that leads to your room. 

Ezra walks into your bedroom, glancing around and spotting the dress you were wearing laid out on the satin sheets. The bracelet next to it as well as a note. Ezra makes his way over to the bed and huffs, annoyed that you left him. Wondering why you left him. Perhaps the letter will tell him.

‘Ezra, I cannot stay and wait for you to realize that you belong with someone like that woman. Someone suited to your station and able to stand proudly beside you. I know that this was temporary and to be honest, this has been the best time of my life. I made a mistake by accepting your hospitality and forgetting my place. I don’t belong here. Yours always, Little Bird.’ 

Ezra growls and slaps the note down, turning to Dolly with an angry sigh. “Did you see her, speak to her before she left? Any idea where she would go?”

Dolly shifts from one foot to the other. “She, uh, she said to me earlier when I was dressing her that one day she’d have to return to the bookshop?” Dolly informs him, “but I thought she meant go back to purchase something otherwise I would’ve told you sir.” She is on the verge of tears, fearing potentially getting fired for not informing him of your words.

“Shit.” Ezra shakes his head and looks back down at the note. “How could she be so blind to my affections that she would believe me capable of ever turning her out?” He asks himself before he turns to see the distress on Dolly’s face. “Do not fret.” He assures her. “My little bird may have flown the coop but I will endeavor to bring her back to the comfort and safety of these walls again.” He is promising himself just as much as he is her. He needs you in his life, no other will do. “I must try to find her tonight.” 

You thank your old boss, grateful that he has let you spend the night in the shop before you begin working for him again tomorrow. The prospect of sleeping on the hard floor after weeks in a soft bed. In Ezra’s arms. It makes your heart clench. You miss him already. You’d admitted to yourself a long time ago that you love him. You just know you’re not good enough for him. You never will be.

Ezra comes out to find that his house is a flurry of activity. He rushes forward and pushes through the crowd of his friends to find Wilson and Sally crouched next to Barbara. 

“She collapsed.” Wilson tells him when he makes his way to their sides. He frowns and looks down at the woman with no little suspicion but he cannot imagine why she would fake a malady. 

“Call for an ambulance.” He orders Sally. 

The ambulance swiftly arrives and they begin work on resuscitating Barbara. She wasn’t breathing when they arrived. The guests are all gathered around, watching in horror until the paramedics manage to revive Barbara, placing her on a stretcher. 

Ezra may not like the woman now but she has been his friend for many years and he knows her family will not be heading to the hospital. He makes the decision to go with her, thanking his guests before he gets into the ambulance with Barbara, you on his mind, despite the drama currently occurring.

Ezra shifts in a hard chair next to Barbara’s bedside. It has been two days and still the woman has not woken up. He hadn’t left because it was something she would have done if it had been him in the bed. Two days that he hasn’t been able to retrieve you and bring you back to his home, his bed. Still wearing the suit from the party, he sighs, wishing that something would change so he could make sure Barbara was alright.  

A few hours later, Ezra is napping when he hears someone moaning. He shifts in his seat, ignoring it until he hears his name. Opening his eyes, they widen when he sees Barbara staring at him, eyes heavy with sleep. “Ezra” She rasps, “you’re here. Did you- did you change your mind?” She asks, reaching out for his hand.

He takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “Barbara, I admire the woman you can be when you do not let societal expectations determine your behavior, but I fear that my heart, my very soul belongs to the “street rat” as you so adroitly monikered her. It is a malady that I never wish to recover from, for I know that I will be devoted to her until my last breath in this mortal coil. I only hope that you endeavor to find someone as equally enamored with you.” He tells her honestly, speaking from his heart. 

Barbara’s eyes well with tears and she nods in understanding. Seeing that she never truly had him. His heart belongs to you. He leans down to kiss her hand as she accepts their fate and the doctor walks in, glad to see her awake before he begins his assessment of her.

Ezra stays until the doctor declares that Barbara had a congestion of her lung that had caused her to stop breathing. He watches as the doctor listens to her chest and declares that she sounds clear with the treatment they had used while she was unconscious and that she should be clear to go home in a day or so. Once the doctor leaves, Ezra looks at her guiltily. “I must go retrieve my little bird.” He tells her softly. “I must go make things right.” 

You are organizing the new shipment of books when the bell above the door rings. You look up and you inhale sharply. “Ezra? What are- what are you doing here?” You ask, heart pounding in your chest at the sight of the man you love. He’s still wearing the suit from the party but his bow tie is missing and it’s wrinkled.

“Little bird, forgive my absence, I would have come to you straight away if it were not for an emergency.” He’s never seen someone more beautiful and he knows that you are his entire world. He had Wilson retrieve the bracelet and send it with the car to the hospital to pick him up. “I meant to be beating on your door two days ago and begging you to forgive an old fool for whatever grievances I have caused to make you leave.” 

You bite your lip, wanting to believe his words but you know it’s short lived. “I- Ezra. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your fiancé?” You ask bitterly, slamming down the new Robert Frost. “You don’t have to apologize” You add before he can say anything, “I understand. She’s…she’s better for you.”

“Better for me?” Ezra shakes his head and reaches into his pocket to pull out the bracket that he had given you two nights ago. “Little bird, there is no one in this vast world that is better for me than you.” He chooses simple words, wanting you to know how serious he is.

You frown, shaking your head. “Ezra. Please. Don’t mock me. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your sympathy. You- you aren’t…you can let me down gently. You can leave and I’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse” You lie, knowing that nothing will be worse than him walking out of your life.

Ezra does something he has never done before, he comes around the counter and stands with you behind it. “Little bird, I never had any intention of agreeing to Barbara Adam’s proposal. If you had lingered, you would have seen that and me ordering her from our home when she insulted you. I had intended on being a gentleman and telling her privately that a union between us was not possible because I had given my heart to another.” He whispers softly, taking your hand and putting the bracelet in it. “Read the inscription on the inside, darling.”

You stare down at the bracelet, tracing the gold edge before you flip it over, carefully reading the inscription. Delicately etched into the gold is a quote you immediately recognize from Jane Eyre. ‘I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion’ 

You read aloud and your heart thumps, looking up at Ezra. “I- Ezra. You do not need to pity me. I can handle myself. I’m a big girl. I don’t need your pretty words to get me back into your bed. I fear I would be truly broken if you were to feed me everything I wish to hear to only take it away once you find someone else. Perhaps not Barbara Adams, but someone else who is more suitable for you to spend your life with. Please, just leave” You request, placing the bracelet back into his hand.

His heart is tearing in two and he is desperate for you to believe him. “That was inscribed in the bracelet when I had placed it on your wrist, little bird.” He murmurs sadly. “It was my hope that you would discover it while mingling at the party and that it would assure you of my affections and how deeply they run when I presented you with my grandmother’s ring as a symbol of my pledge to walk through this life with you by my side.” 

Moisture builds in his eyes and he tries to memorize your face, knowing that when he walks out he will not be able to come back and see you again. It would be too painful to be reminded of a love that was not returned enough to be with him. He sets the bracelet on the counter, knowing that it could be sold for a very nice sum, enough to set you up for as long as  you need. “Gifts are not conditional, little bird. This is yours to sell or keep. I will retire from your presence.” He swallows and turns around to walk away. 

Tears well in your eyes at the news that he was going to propose to you. “Ezra wait” You choke out and he turns around to look at you. You swallow harshly, trying to gather the words to say to the man you love. “I- I’m sorry. I need- I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to retire from my presence. I want to be with you all the time. Talk to you all the time. I want to touch you freely and openly, like couples can when they are married. I thought I was just your mistress. Your whore. Someone to have fun with until another came along so I never let myself truly believe that you could return my affections. I wouldn’t even fathom that a man like you could feel one ounce of the love I feel for you. You…you are the man I love and I am yours if you wish to have me” You finish, fingers gripping the bracelet as you await his reaction. Perhaps you’ve burnt the bridge and he wishes to have nothing to do with you now despite his prior intentions.

It is only two quick steps until he is back in front of you, reaching out and taking hold of your shoulders. “Never.” He growls lightly. “Never were you my whore and there will never be an instance where I do not want you.” Relief floods his system and he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over his lips and watching your eyes before his gaze comes down to your naked lips. “May I kiss you again, little bird?” He whispers, afraid you might reject him. 

“Please” You whisper, your tongue peaking out to press against his fingertip. With a groan, he surges forward and presses his lips to yours. It’s like coming home. You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer so you are pressed against his body. His lips massaging yours until he pulls back, nudging your nose with his. “Ezra” You sigh happily and peck his lips, staring into those dark eyes. “I- I’ve missed you” You confess, caressing his neck with your fingers.

“I have spent two days folded up in a god-forsaken, inflexible chair in the hospital while I awaited the results of the incident that kept me from you.” He leans in and nudges your nose with his. “If I had been in the bed that I have surmised to be ours, I would have still been unable to sleep.” He admits. “Although I would have been right here, waiting on that very stoop until the sunrise and this shop opened.”

You smile, chuckling softly. “You wouldn’t have needed to wait until sunrise. I’ve, uh, been sleeping here. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” You reply sheepishly and bite your lip when you see him frown. “It’s okay baby, I- I can handle it. I didn’t get too used to your big soft bed” You tease softly despite knowing it was hard to be out of his arms more than anything else.

“Never will you sleep anywhere else other than in a bed beside me.” He vows, pushing your hair back. “Darling- I- want to marry you.” He is characteristically heavy tongued and unable to articulate just how much he loves you. “I wish to propose properly at home. Our home.”

You exhale shakily, feeling like this is some kind of dream and you’re going to wake up at any moment. You tilt your head to peck his lips again, “I will need to inform my boss of my departure…again” You tell Ezra. “He is here helping with inventory. Let me speak to him and then we can go” You smile, squeezing his hand before you step away to go find your boss.

Ezra looks around the bookstore, relieved that you are willing to come home with him again. He glances over at the books that you were stocking and picks it up to thumb through the pages with interest. Even if you were not going to be working here, he would always patronize this shop, grateful that he had met you here. He hums to himself as he reads a passage and admires the printed word. 

You walk towards Ezra, suitcase in hand, as your boss trails along behind you. "You must be the man stealing away my best employee" Your now former boss jokes, appraising Ezra. You know your boss cares for you and doesn't wish to see any harm come to you so he wanted to meet Ezra to confirm your assessment of the man you love.

“My most sincere apologies.” Ezra reaches out and takes your suitcase and shifts it over to his left hand so he can extend his right for the other man to shake. “I’m sure you are vastly aware of this beauty's vast array of talents, I fear that stealing hearts is now ranked among them. Although you will never find me weeping over such a feat.” He gives the other man a firm handshake and smile. “I am very fond of this little shop, and to you, for employing my future bride and giving her safe harbor from a perilous world.” 

Your boss looks at you with a fond smile. “I can see why you like him. A man with half the poetic nature of yourself is a rare find but to find a man so eloquent, you my dear, have found your perfect match” Your boss says with a hum of approval and you smile, loving that a man you view as a father figure likes Ezra. “Very well. Go and do what young lovers do. I have work to attend to and I expect to see you in here when you have little ones so we can introduce them to the wonderful Swallows and Amazons” He says fondly.

Ezra grins and tucks you neatly under his arm. “You shall be invited to witness the nuptials.” He promises, nodding to the older man and adding, “she and I shall both be frequent patrons.” He guides you to the door and opens it so that you can proceed him out of the shop and onto the street outside. Eager to get home and hold you in his arms and get some rest. He knows you couldn’t have slept well on the floor of a bookstore, no matter how clean it might be. 

You bid goodbye to your boss and Ezra walks you over to his vehicle, making you remember the first time you agreed to move into his home. So much has changed since then but you are still as fascinated with Ezra now as you were then. He helps you into the passenger seat before securing your suitcase and when he settles into the driver's seat, you turn to look at him. "I love you" You declare softly, admiring the way the sun makes his dark eyes sparkle.

He doesn’t start the engine, instead he picks up your hand and kisses the back of it as if you are the finest lady in the entire city. In his eyes you are. “And I love you. Are you ready to go home, little bird?” He asks, giving you a slight smirk. “I fear that I will not let you escape so easily next time, my love. Perhaps I need to keep you pinned to the bed with my cock until our wedding day?” He teases, cock twitching at the idea of doing just that. 

You whimper softly at the idea but you shake your head. "I won't be going anywhere, darling" You promise, "I shall be by your side until the day I die if you allow it." You squeeze his hand in yours, the bracelet now in its rightful place on your wrist. 

The journey back to his building is quick and you greet the valet as he opens your door, "welcome home." 

Your heart swells at his words and you smile, "thank you."

Ezra keeps his arm around you all the way up to your floor, possessively so as if he were afraid that you would disappear on him again. Fatigue settles in his bones as the car rises and he turns and kisses the side of your head. “I am exceedingly happy you came home.” He murmurs softly into your ear. 

On your floor, you barely walk up to the door before Wilson is opening up the door, a large smile on the older butler’s face. “Ma’am, it’s good to have you home again.” He tells you, beaming at Ezra and taking your suitcase from him quickly. 

You thank Wilson with a smile, greeting Dolly with a hug. She welcomes you home and you tell her you would like to retire to your bedroom, get freshened up and change. You look over at Ezra and reach out to cup his cheek, “shall we take an afternoon to rest, my love?” You ask.

“Absolutely, yes.” He’s drained but he needs to clean up and then he wants to make love to you before he passes out in his bed with you in his arms. “We shall have a later dinner than usual, Wilson. Please inform the cook.” He looks over at you with an arched brow. “Would you like to have something light sent to our room?” He asks, not bothering with formalities of saying ‘your’ room. The entire staff knew that you were sharing his bed and they all approved. 

You nod, "I would like something light please." You smile at Wilson and look back at Ezra, caressing his cheek for a moment. "I shall see you shortly my love, I wish to freshen up" You inform Ezra and he nods, kissing your palm and watching you disappear into your suite with Dolly. 

She helps you freshen up, running you a quick bath before she helps you style your hair. You glance at her before you pick the negligee that you think Ezra would love. Dolly blushes and you giggle, excited to see Ezra's reaction.

Ezra has showered and slipped into his pajama pants and lounging jacket by the time the door between your rooms has opened. Cook has already sent a heavily ladened down tray of your favorite sandwiches and a pot of tea, sitting on the small table in the sitting area. He turns and his eyes instantly turn dark as he takes in the sight of you in a very erotic negligee. “Darlin….” He huffs and takes quick steps towards you. “You are perfection.” 

You wrap your arms around him as his hands grip your waist. "So are you. I love you Ezra" You whisper and tilt your head up to kiss him, moaning when his tongue is eager. Licking into your mouth, you grant him access and press against him as your tongues caress. Your fingers running through his damp locks and you whimper into his mouth.

He breaks off the kiss and pulls back, smiling when you murmur a protest. “There is one task I need to accomplish before I take you back into my bed, little bird.” He tuts at the slight frown on your face, confusion marring your beautiful features and he pulls the velvet lined box from his lounging jacket before he bends down to one knee in front of you. 

“I am astutely aware that this is a proposal that is less than customary, however we seem to be very non-conformist. ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and I love you’.” He quotes. “You are my Lizzy Bennet and I have high hopes that you would allow me to substitute for Mr. Darcy in your own affections.” He smiles and flips open the box. “Would you do me the sublime honor of becoming my wife?” 

You inhale sharply, looking down at the beautiful, ornate ring for a second before you meet the eyes of your lover. You knew he was considering proposing earlier but now that he has actually done it, you feel like you can't breathe, your heart is thumping in your chest. You shift to kneel down in front of him, "I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love-I love-I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." You quote Pride and Prejudice back to him, your hand cupping his cheek.

“Thank god.” He closes his eyes briefly before he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours. It’s not a long kiss, merely to seal your acceptance of his proposal before he pulls back and reaches for your hand so he can slip the ring on it. “I want to make love to you while you are wearing this ring. My ring. Every time from now on, you will bear the symbol of my devotion to you.” He pulls the ring from the box and tosses it aside before he slips it on your finger, happy to find it a perfect fit. 

You sigh, looking down at the ring. “It’s so beautiful Ezra. I love it. I love you” You smile, unable to wipe the grin off of your face as you press your lips to his again. “I want you. I need you” You whimper. Despite the multiple times you have made love, it’s never been enough. You always want him. Want more. “Please baby. I need you to make love to your future wife” You plead, tangling your now adorned hand in his hair.

He surges up to his feet and wraps his arms around you, kissing you with a passion that was greater than just missing you for two days. He would never get enough of you for as long as he lived. His tongue dives into your mouth and he groans while steering you back towards the bed, letting go of you with one arm so that he can start pulling his lounging robe off of his shoulders all while keeping his mouth fixed to yours. 

You caress his chest as you walk backwards towards the bed, the back of your knees hitting the frame and you shift to the side so you can lay down on the bed, dragging Ezra with you. You moan when his hands dip under your silk slip and run along your legs

“I’ve wanted you from the first, little bird.” He murmurs, kissing down your chest and nosing under the edge of the negligee so he can bite down on the top of your breast. “Love you, care for you, spoil you.” He moans when his tongue trails down the valley between your breasts and he tastes the sweetness of your skin. “Thought of you that night, cock in hand as I stroked myself thinking about your sweet voice.” 

You moan softly as he sucks on your nipple through the silk. "You- while you read the- the erotica?" You gasp when he bites down softly. Your hands caressing his shoulders and back. "Fuck Ezra. I- that feels good" You confess and slip the strap down so he can push the silk down to expose your breast.

“Yes.” He hisses, hands pulling at the silk and he knows that he will spend a fortune on things like this just to be able to rip it off of you. Your breasts are finally exposed to his eyes and he moans that the sight, ducking his head down more to wrap his lips around a nipple and biting down on it gently before he starts sucking on it. Teasing the bud with his tongue while the firm pressure of his mouth makes it even stiffer.

"Ezra!" You cry, arching your back into his mouth. "Oh God!" You whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair and your ring sparkles in the lamplight. You look at him as he switches to your other breast, making your silk panties slick with your arousal.

His eyes finger you, pins  you with his stare while he suckles on you. Pulling off your tender nipple with a pop and he shuffles back reaching up under the negligee to strip your panties down and spread your thighs wide. “Keep your eyes on me, darling.” He orders you, voice rough with lust when he flattens himself on the bed and holds your gaze while he opens his mouth to devour your cunt.

Your eyelashes flutter as his tongue flattens through your folds and you gasp, fingers gripping the sheets. You whimper and watch him, those dark eyes burning into yours as he sucks on your clit. “Jesus, Ezra” You moan, head tilting back before you reach down to pull your negligee up your stomach to watch him.

He hums, always enamored with the taste of you. Licking through your folds again and nipping at one puffy lip of your cunt before he buries his nose in the soft curls above your clit and moans as he pushes his tongue into your hot walls. 

You whimper and rock your hips up to meet his mouth, wondering how the hell he knows what to do to your body to get a reaction out of you after knowing each other mere weeks. "Ezra. Oh oh yes" You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. His mouth is sinful, skilled as much as he is verbally. "You're gonna make me- oh God" You cry, walls fluttering around his tongue.

He nearly cums himself, untouched, at the sight of you falling apart for him. Your head throwing back in ecstasy and your body shaking with pleasure while the molten honey of your release floods his taste buds. Ezra is greedy, slurping it down like a man starved. He is starved, hasn’t touched you for two days and it seems like a lifetime. Steadily drinking you down until you are pushing at his head and panting for him to stop and come kiss you.

You drag him up your body, pressing your lips to his. He’s shown you a whole new world of pleasure and it’s incredible. You caress his shoulders and back as he hovers above you, your tangy arousal on his lips as his tongue slides into your mouth. “Ezra. I need you inside of me” You plead, reaching down to slide your hand into his pants, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“Little bird…” He thrusts forward into your grip and groans loudly, eyes closed as if he is in prayer. “May I stay inside you?” He asks, biting his lip and his cock twitching at the thought of filling you with his seed. He has always pulled free of your body and spent himself over your stomach or thighs but he craves the warmth of your walls around him when he cums. 

You moan at the idea, loving the way his cock twitches inside of your grip at the thought. You nod, pumping him a couple of times before you let him go. “Yes. Yes. I want you to fill me up” You moan, kissing his neck. “Please Ezra. I just need you inside of me” You whine.

He is less than graceful, how he clambors between your thighs and spreads them wide. Not even bothering to take off your negligee, he would make it up to you later. Right now both of you are too frantic. “Mine.” He growls, lining himself up and pushing inside you with a smooth thrust. “You’re mine.” 

You gasp, loving his words and echoing them with your own. “I’m yours. Always yours. Yours until the day I die” You promise. You grab onto his shoulders, dragging him down to rest his weight on top of you before you tell him to move.

“And I’m yours.” He promises you with a groan, burning his face into your neck and kissing your pulse before he starts rocking into you. “All yours, darling.” He loves the way that you clench down on his length and how your body seems to hug him perfectly. “Forever.” 

You close your eyes and focus on how he feels inside of you. Slowly rocking his hips and you whimper, burying your face in his neck. “Oh I love you Ezra” You whisper, kissing his neck up to his jaw before pressing your lips to his.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, reaching down between you so that he can rub your clit and make you cum again before he finally loses himself to the tight pleasure of your body. His other hand comes up and frames your face, cradling your jaw and kissing you tenderly. “Cum for me darling. Soak your fiancé in your pleasure.” 

You pant softly, unable to stop yourself as you clamp down around his cock. He has brought you so much pleasure. You whimper and your nails scratch down his back as you soak him with your cum. “Oh Ezra” You pant, “I- I need you to cum for me. Please. Cum inside of me” You plead,.

He snarls at the idea, teeth clenched together and his eyes nearly black with lust. His hips snap into your harder, making your entire body move as he fucks into you nearly at a frantic pace. Another half dozen thrusts and he is yelling your name, not pulling free of your body but burying himself as deep as he can get while his cock throbs and he fills you with his seed. 

You whimper at the new feeling, loving the sensation of his hot cum filling you up. It gets pushed out with each minor thrust as he rides his high. He looks feral, so unlike the gentleman you’ve come to know and love but it’s intoxicating watching his reaction to filling you up.

Giving a large sigh, he leans down and presses his forehead against yours and pants, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck.” He gives a small chuckle and lifts his head up so he can press his lips to your forehead before he kisses your lips. “I love you.” He whispers, kissing you again. 

“I love you too” You whisper back, eyes closed in satisfaction. You cannot believe how lucky you are to be in his arms, loved and safe. It’s more than you could have ever wished for. You caress his shoulders and back as he buries his face in your neck breathing you in. You’re getting married to the love of your life and you’ve never been happier. Who knew a chance encounter in a bookshop could lead to the perfect life? You certainly didn’t.

MasterList

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[fruitcoops]

Tiktok Trend: Page Turner

So this technically isn’t a ‘trend’ and doesn’t fit any of the asks, but I saw it earlier today and it just screamed Coops. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Marry a bookworm, they said. It’ll be fun, they said, and you’ll have great conversations.” Sirius craned his neck to peer through the passenger window of the car, then raised an eyebrow at the camera with an amused look. “Re went into the library to print three sheets of paper because our printer is fucked. Three sheets. It’s been just over twenty minutes, and he hasn’t come back.”

Sirius glanced back out the window and perked up, then deflated again as another car passed behind him.

“I should go after him,” he muttered a moment later, unbuckling his seatbelt. The camera blurred as he jogged down the street, then came back into focus when he entered the library; almost immediately, he stopped and snorted. “Well, that’s where he’s supposed to be.”

The entire area by the printers was vacant. Remus was nowhere in sight.

“Time to ask the experts.” Dark green carpeting turned to an underside view of his face, showing a fondly exasperated smile. “I really should have known better. Hey, Julie, how’s it going?”

“Oh, not bad,” a young woman said from the front desk. Her face was out of frame, but the brim of a colorful hat appeared at the top. “Lost the husband again?”

“He was supposed to be by the printers.”

She hummed. “Can’t say I saw him over there. I might give the nonfiction section a shot, though.”

“Thank you so much.” Julie tipped her cap to him and he headed toward the shelves, flipping the camera view once again. He ducked into a few rows, most of which were empty save for the occasional older man or small child who got lost on their way to the kids’ section. On the third try, a new person sat crosslegged in the middle of the aisle with no fewer than five books strewn around him. Sirius leaned on the edge of the shelf. “Bonjour.”

“Jesus!” Remus fumbled a book right out of his hands and hissed in sympathy when it hit the floor, then looked up guiltily. “Hey, baby, how’s it going?”

“Not bad,” Sirius said, barely holding down his laughter. “Groceries are in the car.”

Remus closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. “Paper. Shit. I’ll be right back.”

“Promise?” Sirius teased.

“Just—two seconds, okay?” He clambered to his feet and carefully tiptoed over the books, casting a longing glance at them as he hesitated by the shelf. “Keep an eye on them for me, please.”

“Why are you reading about—” Sirius bent down and picked one off the stack. “—James Buchanan? Who the hell is James Buchanan?”

“15th President of the United States. He was actually a really interesting guy, did a bunch of—” Remus closed his mouth and shook his head, waving his hand around. “I watched a documentary and wanted to know if it was accurate. I’ll go print the thing now.”

“You know we have this awesome invention called Google, right?”

“That takes all the fun out of it! Oh, did you say hello to Julie? I saw her at the front desk and she’s finally back from maternity leave.”

“Remus. Paper?”

“Right. Yes, absolutely. Paper.” Remus disappeared for half a second, then poked his face around again.

“I will get the books,” Sirius said before he could even open his mouth.

“God, I love you.”

“Go,” Sirius laughed as he bent to collect the hoard.

[roseisreading]

Reading Goals for 2022

Two text posts in a row? Who is she?

Anyway, I thought I would share some of my reading goals for this year.

1. Read at my own pace: I feel like I sometimes get caught up in wanting to read as fast as possible to keep up with booksta or booktube, but I need to remember that reading is a hobby for me and no one else. My pace is good enough, and sharing my reads is something I do for fun.

2. Read the books on my TBR: I have over 230 books on my Goodreads TBR, and over 40 physical TBR books. I want to make a dent in both

3. Move to TheStorygraph!: I started using TheStorygraph in 2021 and I really want to make it my primary book tracking tool. It's so cool and so user-friendly, plus there are cool graphs that you can use

4. Diversify my reads: I need to get better about diversifying everything about my reads. I love reading because it broadens my knowledge, but I can't really say that I'm broadening my knowledge if I only read books that feature authors and characters that look like me.

5. Read more nonfiction: I got into nonfiction this past year when I started listening to audiobooks. I would love to continue this, so if you have any recommendations please leave some below!

6. Feel more comfortable DNF'ing books: I DNF'ed a grand total of one book, which is a major accomplishment for me. There were many more I should've ditched, but part of me has FOMO and I just wanted to know what happened at the end.

What are your reading goals for 2022?

[seancekitsch]

Cahir and Nevinna with a reincarnation AU?

Cahir and Nevinna with a reincarnation AU? yo you don’t know how excited i was to write this

She walked down the block, holding her bag closely to her body, the warm leather strap chafing against her skin. Nevinna had recently moved south, still getting used to the heat. It was only a month ago she had packed up her hatchback with all of her belongings, away from her family and everything she knew, the cold and the rain. Sweat threatens to drip on her brow on her walk downtown. Finding an apartment was easy, a simple one bedroom unit in a complex, but finding a job proved harder. In her bag is a stack of resumes and a lucky tin of mints. She’d started in the morning at the shops, the long rows of small businesses near her complex, now giving thought to a wider berth of potential jobs, despite the farther commute.

Nevinna -Vinna- isn’t really sure why the move was necessary, but something about the heat, and this town in particular, called to her. Like the deep, gut sense of intuition, or an ancient instinct she didn’t quite understand.

She goes to a little boutique downtown - sun dresses and necklaces mostly- and finds no luck. The same at a diner, the same at the salon, the same at a homewares store. That one was almost desperation. She knew enough to fix up anything she needed around the house, but she would be of little help to any customers.

There’s a book store and cafe shop, at the very edge of the radius of her job search. The whole concept of the business seemed stupid to her. Who is reading a novel they haven’t bought while eating? They could stain the pages, or outright ruin books. Eating a full meal in a retail shop.

A job is a job though.

After a talk with the cashier, this place seems like another strike out. Useless, she thinks. A masters in psychology and she can’t even get a barista job. Nevinna regrets every minute of it, pushed through university by her family; not even sure of what she wanted to do.

She scans the nonfiction, the true crime sections, aimlessly perusing because well, she might as well while she’s here. Nevinna’s got a bookshelf in her bedroom with all of three pathetic looking books on it. She’s always loved reading, to get lost in stories, real or fiction and live in them for a little bit. She feels someone brush against her in the narrow row of bookshelves, turning to look at whoever it was.

“I’m sorry, oh-“ he pauses, “It’s you.”

Confused, she looks the man in the face, met with eyes like a sea during a storm.

“I’m sorry, it’s me?” what did he mean? Nevinna squints, trying to recall the face. hair the color of the sand, sharp jaw and cheekbones, the memory of a promise whispered in the candlelight, his reflection in a sword… it dawns on her.

“Oh, OH!” Her fingers twitch, almost reaching out. Hoping it’s not a dream.

“It’s you.” The man of her dreams! He was real. Literally. The man that was in her dreams stood in front of her, in a v-neck and dark trousers instead of armor.

“How long have you- ?” his hands reach for hers too, fingertips brushing her knuckles.

She shakes her head in disbelief, a smile threatening to snap her face in two.

“I just got here a month ago, I’m looking for a job I just… I don’t know why I came here, I guess its-“

“The warm weather,” he finishes, letting her fingers brush his again, then entwining with them as she nods, “You always said you wanted to live where it’s warm.”

Nevinna throws her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that he gladly returns, a gentle squeeze she can swear she’s memorized already. She buries her face in his neck, breathing him in. He smells like home.

[theflashdriver]

Just Five Minutes (A Silvaze Oneshot)

Heavy was the head that wears the crown, both due to the burden carried by its owner and the lack of sleep that accompanied it. Blaze the cat was known for being a workaholic, friends and colleges alike has claimed such and made efforts to curtail her tendencies. To some extent her overworking was indeed self-imposed, it was in her nature to take on burdens and the work of others, but it wasn’t solely her own fault. As the singular monarch of the Sol kingdom, she worked long hours with little hope of respite.

One o’clock was nearing, it was only fourteen minutes away, yet Blaze had already sat through two meetings totalling almost four hours between them. The day had started at half past seven with some additional reading and preparation, she was supposed to have had a pair of hour and a half long meetings yet both had seen fit to overextend by around fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that these meetings were unimportant per say, the first had been regarding a foreseen bumper crop while the second had concerned utilising more modern defences to protect the Sol emeralds, but both of them going into overtime was taking its toll.

The twenty-one-year-old princess was supposed to have a half hour break between each meeting, supposed to being the operative words. A half hour break cut in half once more, it’d be comical if it wasn’t such a common occurrence. Even if there was no break whatsoever between these discussions, she was supposed to retain a prim and proper attitude whilst her visitors could yawn and slouch without risk of it being taken as an afront. Even doffing her usual guardian’s outfit, her robes and tights, risked being viewed as some sort of afront. As she walked the palace halls, now free from that stuffy meeting room, she knew that she was stewing on this much too intently. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t enjoy this brief hiatus and her patience would wear thin when the next meeting undoubtedly exceeded its allotment.

Groggily, she shouldered her way through a set of old double doors and into the library. The scent of old paper and stagnant air hit her, but it signalled a sort of sanctuary. She moved quickly across the emerald carpeted floor, breezing along the great wall formed by the historic fiction section. The massive room was like a labyrinth lined from floor to ceiling with books, but she knew her path through it better than anyone else. It didn’t take long for her to notice that a few tomes had been lifted, a pair on specific pirates and three more containing hyperbolised accounts of the island’s early history. If she hadn’t known he was here, then that would be a clear indication of his presence.

She coasted along the next wall, passing by historic poetry, before crossing by a section filled with pure historic nonfiction. The old wooden shelves that framed her surroundings were surely soon due their monthly dusting, a job that her partner had taken on with gusto in an effort to make this space nicer for the pair of them. As she snuck past yet another library shelf, she swore she heard him snort. With no more than a parse at the row upon row of encyclopaedias, she rounded the final corner and her eyes fell upon him.

Lounging on their shared couch at the heart of the library was Silver the hedgehog, three days into his return from the other world’s future. Both of them had dramatic burdens on their shoulders, she had a world to run while he was tasked with saving his, but to say that he was enjoying his rest would be an understatement. Books were piled on the coffee table before the psychic, claiming residence beside a filled fruit bowl, and he was currently nose deep in a newer retelling of Jet the Second of Babylon’s exploits. He’d taken on clothes too, adding to snug display. She’d stolen the maroon hoodie he was wearing on a number of occasions and his ability to wear baggy grey tracksuit bottoms as he pleased was making her quite envious.

Sneaking behind him, she placed her chin atop his head and draped her arms across his chest. Though she felt him shift, he quickly seemed to relax as he realised just who was holding him. Her eyes dared to close as she took comfort. He’d arrived in as messy a state as usual, smelling of old sweat and thoroughly filthy. Three days deep into bathing though, he smelt of pines and was unbelievably fluffy.

“You look too comfortable, mind if I join you?” She heard the tone of a princess in her voice and winced, “Sorry I’m late.”

“You sound tired,” She felt his hand reach up and his thumb caressed her cheek, “Did everything go okay?”

“We just ran over time, it was as mundane as ever,” She sighed, pulling herself away and rounding the couch. She shrugged off her purple robe, revealing the white tank top beneath, but knew she wouldn’t be free for long. In an attempt to make up for lost time, she immediately lay across the couch and set her head in his lap.

His book was quickly put aside, and their eyes met for the first time today. Age had certainly treated the hedgehog kindly, granting him a height that she couldn’t match even in heels. His shoulders had broadened, and his voice had deepened but that innocent spark still lingered in his piecing yellow eyes, reminding her of what an innocent he was. Casually, she sank a hand into the small plume of chest fur that had escaped him clothes and watched his smile grow warmer.

What they were to each other now had gone unspoken for months, if not years. The nature of their relationship had only ever been confronted through actions like this for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which were their duties. Still, that made things fun, it meant she could perform actions like this and watch as he struggled to react. Blush had claimed his cheeks and he’d quickly broken from their stare-off. She had won, as was so often the case.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, his gaze having undoubtedly fallen on the fruit bowl.

“Famished,” She replied, yawning up at him.

With a whir of psychic energy, Blaze watched a bunch of grapes drift into view before arriving in his hand. He gently lowered his hand and, without so much as blinking, she bit one from the vine. He’d probably filled the bowl himself before coming, the hedgehog had a serious sweet tooth, but she’d started to wean him off of chocolate and towards fruit as of late. His sugar intake was still ludicrous, but he was on the path to improving at least.

“I’m sorry it’s not a proper lunch, Marine needed more help that I’d thought,” He claimed a grape for himself. They’d intended to meet during her first break but a call from the raccoon had dashed that plan, “Apparently her ship had sank an hour before she called me in, but she didn’t want to admit that.”

“Hush,” She commanded, claiming some more fruit, “If you’re that worried about it then you can make me something in time for the next break. A little sugar boost will more than get me through,” The feline elaborated, “Did you manage to fish it out the ocean?”

“I did, and it’s mostly patched up, but I think it’ll take her another day or so to get it ready. She had a bit of a pre-emptive launch,” He explained.

For a while they simply lived in silence, quiet and calm. Moments like these were still rather new to them, intimate in a way they hadn’t really experienced. The fact that they could just exist like this for a while, sharing food and unwinding, was wonderful. He hadn’t known comfort in this lifetime, just as he hadn’t the prior, but she was here now to make certain that he did. They were together and they were safe; in moments like this, she could thing of nothing else.

Blaze found herself snuggling deeper into his lap, relaxing her shoulders and clasping her hands. Soon the sound of her purring came to fill the air, overwhelming the silence. This was the closest to the traditional view of a princess that her life got. It was all work, none of what the storybooks had told her. She worked constantly and fought to defend her world, she was born into a position of equal proportions servitude and luxury. At least Silver could open her eyes to the latter, even whilst the former hung over them.

She swallowed another mouthful, realising that a thought wriggled its way to the forefront of her mind, “What time is it?” She was ruining what little time they had but she had to know.

Silver glanced over his shoulder toward the library’s ancient grandfather clock. It had been introduced when the castle was first built but, gradually, none of the original remained, “Five minutes to one,” He glumly responded.

“Only five minutes left already,” She mused, “More like three, considering the walk.”

She heard him sigh, “It’s not fair…”

“It’s the path I’m on, there’s no escaping it,” She eased him, biting another grape off the vine, “In a handful of minutes I’ll be back in that room, discussing the construction of a new graveyard and replacing old tombstones.”

“A handful of minutes…” He hummed.

Blaze looked beyond the bushel and found that a quirk had entered his expression. Silver and new ideas were a paring that often mixed strangely. The hedgehog wasn’t unintelligent but his still relative inexperience with social situations and the nature of the modern world had led to some rather embarrassing situations. Innocently embarrassing of course, but certainly still worth avoiding.

Pushing the grapes aside she looked him in the eye, “What are you thinking, Silver?”

“What if that handful of minutes didn’t have to be just a handful?” He thought aloud, allowing his hand to mingle with his chest fur and quickly finding hers, “What if that handful of minutes could be as long as you wanted it to be?”

She flipped her right hand, interlocking her fingers with his, “It’s important work, I need to get back to it. There’s no way of changing the system to make that go away. You know how important my role is.”

“I know it is but,” He squeezed her hand, “You’ve already missed half of your break today, you deserve that much at least, right?”

“You’re so naïve,” Blaze yawned again, “I’ve missed it, so it’s gone. Rushing through meetings, or avoiding them to steal it back, isn’t an option. Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

“But what if you could have it…” He hummed again, releasing her hand, “What if I could get you it…” Blaze sat up, turning to face him only to find that he’d looked away. Before she could open her mouth again, he’d jumped to his feet, “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, I can do this.”

“Silver,” As the hedgehog went to stand, Blaze caught his hand. While she had an inkling of what he was going to attempt, she just didn’t know how safe it was, “You don’t have to overdo it, not for me.”

“You’re clearly tired and I want to help you, Blaze,” As he smiled down at her, speaking so honestly, she couldn’t help but feel a butterfly flap in her stomach, “I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it only changes things a little,” She let go of her hand and his smile grew even bigger, “I’ll be right back.”

The hedgehog took off like a shot, vanishing amongst the bookshelves, but Blaze didn’t hear his footfalls for long. There was a flash of cyan light, accompanied by a rumbling like thunder, and then the hedgehog was gone from the library, likely even from the entire castle. The princess glanced to the library’s grandfather clock. Her next meeting was set to start in three minutes. Had he not just run off then she would be preparing, hurrying back in the hopes of brushing up on the itinerary.

Her gaze dropped to the bunch of grapes he’d left but, just as she was about to pluck one, another thundercrack rolled through the library. Blaze looked up only to find that a portal had manifested in front of her, a bright cyan disk that washed the table, couch and her in its psychic glow. Just as quickly as it had manifested, Blaze watched as a hand with a familiar circular symbol reached through and into the library. She rose quickly, grabbing her robe before stepping over the table and toward the gateway. She took one last glance at the clock; she only had two minutes left, but how long did he plan to make those last? Blaze took his hand, closed her eyes and, feeling his tug, stepped into the warbling energy wall.

A change in air pressure immediately greeted her. The feline felt a gentle breeze blow through her fur, yet sunlight was shining warmly upon her. A stumbling step that brought her fully free from the portal lead her to discover the thick grass underfoot, matched by the mixed scent of countless wildflowers. She blinked away the difference as, in an instant, her world had gone from being lit by electrical lights to basking in a sun shining overhead. Around her, and even from far afield, Blaze could hear the hum of insects mixing with all manner of marvellous birdsong.

Her eyes fell upon the hedgehog who’d brought her here. In what had been mere seconds to her had been long enough for him not only to choose this location but his garb entirely. The hedgehog stood before her dressed in a short sleaved, open-buttoned, teal paisley shirt with accents of orange and white throughout the pattern. A set of still comfortable looking black trousers had taken the place of his joggers and he’d donned a set of hiking boots. As nice as his clothes were though, they couldn’t hold her attention like the overexcited grin on his muzzle.

He stepped out the way, revealing both a picnic spread and a far better view of their surroundings. Beyond the woven basket and tartan blanket, Blaze could see tree after tree stocked with ripe peaches, on the verge of dropping, and rolling green hills that spanned out towards the horizon. She soon however found herself becoming lost in the smaller beauties of this band new landscape. Lavender, crocuses, violets, bluebells, buttercups and countless other species of small flower covered the ground but around them were also foxgloves that harboured blundering bumblebees and wild sunflowers on magnificently tall stalks. The sight of a green hummingbird, daring to fly so curiously close out of blissful innocent, pulled her from staring at their surroundings.

There was no one else here, it seemed like no one had ever been here. When the hedgehog has left, she’d known his plan was to travel through time and find them a peaceful spot, but she’d expected to arrive somewhere in the reccent past or the other dimension. This must have taken far more effort than that, it absolutely had to. Not only had he found a place so wonderful but he’d found it on a day that the sky was perfect, errant clouds were drifting through the sky but never lingering too long in front of the sun. The grass wasn’t wet, rainfall must have been days prior, and yet the world around them was so vibrant.

“Silver, where are we?” She asked, her mouth agape.

“Where? We’ve hardly left where you were sitting,” He cheekily answered, wandering back to sit on the far side of the blanket, “We’re now on a simple grass plain on an undiscovered island, you’ll sit on that couch, around about where we are now, in a little under two thousand years.”

The feline walked to the edge of the blanket, “How long did it take you to find this time? How many days did you cycle through?”

“Well, I got us a good while away from the folks first landing on the island and then kept trying this same day every year until it was nice,” He answered casually but his blush betrayed how proud he was of this plan, “I think I went through a couple hundred years before picking this one.”

“And I take it this safe?” She lowered herself to sit, still eying him intently, “There’s no chance of a time paradox?”

“As long as we don’t do anything to disrupt the land, nothing should change. The timeline seems to do what’s easiest, it can stomach a small change like this,” He promised, opening the hamper with a wave of his hand, “Picking the spot was the last thing I did, gathering and cooking everything took way longer.”

Silver began to waggle his fingers in the air, almost like he was pretending to conduct. Blaze watched as shapes began to dance free from the basket. First came a large, sealed, pitcher, plainly filled with raspberry lemonade and still containing a half dozen frozen ice cubes. Next came a large silver serving dish which, upon landing, removed its top to reveal a spread of far more sandwiches than they could ever hope to eat. From tuna and cucumber to cheese and tomato, all manner of fillings had manifested in the blink of an eye. Soon after followed a troop of cupcakes set atop a two-tier stand, each iced a different colour and decorated from sweets ranging from lemon jelly slices to maraschino cherries to give each cake their own theme.

Silver the hedgehog could make wonderful use of a minute, that much was more than clear, but how long had that minute lasted for him?

“Just how long did you spend on this,” She squinted at him, causing the hedgehog to break eye contact.

“N-Not longer than eight hours?” He gulped.

“Silver!” The feline shouted, genuinely shocked. She’d expected a couple of hours, three at most, but eight?

“I can rest up and everything will be fine, we can stay here for as long as you like,” He promised, “As long as you don’t plan to stay for more than two hundred years, then we might bump into your ancestors.”

“I should have you send us back right now, this is far too much of an effort and I didn’t contribute anything,” She was flustered, again slipping into the voice she used to rule, but she was anything but upset with him.

“You just being here is more than enough on its own,” Silver responded, clearly growing flustered himself, “I-It’s not like I did this all totally on my own, I went to the other dimension and Amy let me use her oven. I didn’t want to go back and use mine in case I encountered Marine or messed something up permanently.”

In a lot of ways, Blaze knew she was exceptionally lucky to have Silver in her life, let alone to have a relationship like this with him. For as mundane as the cooking behind his effort was, and as normal as their prior time in the library had been, the hedgehog was anything but regular and so casual in how he showed it. No one else could ever have come remotely close to what she was experiencing right now, no one else had a partner who could stretch a minute into eight hours before whisking them away for as long as they liked. The feline almost felt selfish for keeping him all to herself like this but she knew that, fundamentally, that he did this because he cared. He’d seen how bedraggled she was and wanted to make her happy, to shirk this opportunity would be foolish. That and, well, he’d set this up for her to take advantage of. Blaze could tease him to her heart’s content, and no one was around to catch them in the act.

“We can eat, we can rest, we can explore,” He offered, awkwardly smiling at her again, “We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, hm,” The feline pawed her way across the blanket and toward the hedgehog, “I think I’d like to retake our prior position.”

With half a yawn and no further warning, she pushed her way to rest her head atop the hedgehog’s lap. She’d always known that he made a good pillow but something about this position, coupled with the warmth of the sun seeping into her fur, was truly blissful. Their cloistered times in the library were wonderful, but there was something entirely heavenly about doing this so publicly yet not having to worry about the prying eyes of others. There was no chance of rumours, no potential for tabloids, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company. The sight of the blue sky above as they did this too; something about it felt so liberating.

“You said you were famished, right? I managed to get fresh salmon,” As he babbled, she glanced up at him. The hedgehog had used his power to draw one of the triangle-cut sandwiches from the tray, “I guess that’s not much of a feat when you can time travel but-

Before he could undersell himself, the feline reached up and shooed away his glowing aura. The sandwich retrieved, she only spoke two words, “Thank you,” That alone was enough to restoke the fire on his muzzle.

The clink of ice filled her ears as she took the first bite, signalling that he was pouring them drinks through the use of his power. Seared salmon and baby spinach in a delicately creamy sauce, the flavours mingled to perfectly. If every single one of those sandwiches had this level of effort put into them then the long hours he’d mentioned more than made sense. It’d be akin to making four or five separate dishes and then reshaping them to suit sandwiches, atop that even crafting the cupcakes and drink.

As a glass filled to the brim with a faint pink liquid drifted towards Blaze, she looked up to him again, “You really did go too far with all of this. You know I was expecting to arrive in the other dimension or the past, to step into some kind of café or a different library.”

“I may have gotten a little overexcited, Amy did tell me I was going overboard. Even if she then insisted that I go all out…” He admitted as she took a sip. It was frightfully sweet, as one should anticipate a concoction made by the two hedgehogs would be, but surprisingly subtle in its flavouring. The lemon only faintly undercut the primary raspberry taste, “I kind of owe her now. I promised to help her do something similar for her and Sonic…”

“Well, it does seem that you have a knack for this,” She complimented him before taking another sip, “I’m sure she’ll be more than pleased with wherever and whenever you send them.”

“She already has ideas, but I’m scared of granting her free reign in the past,” He cringed, “I need to find a middle ground between an interesting place and somewhere it’d be difficult to change the future,” She watched as a cupcake flew through the air, the hedgehog hadn’t had a sandwich yet but she was too comfortable to scold him, “I was thinking about letting them go on a winter date in the middle of summer… she seemed to think that was a great idea.”

“That does sound rather romantic. Very unique,” Blaze responded, before a likely truth ran through her mind, “Although, she’ll probably want you to surprise him with it. If you do that, she’ll surely be ready for the cold while he won’t be. It’ll be an opportunity to get closer to him, in more ways than one.”

“She wouldn’t let him freeze, right?” He asked, so very innocently.

“No, she certainly wouldn’t,” The pyrokinetic half-joked, “But I think, deep down, he’d enjoy that just as much as her.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed, just as the tide or changes in the clouds. One moment they would be discussing the food but the next they would be simply holding each other and enjoying their serene surroundings, only to later end up laughing about their friends’ potential antics. They were never quiet for too long, but conversation never felt forced or as though it was some sort of requirement, it was allowed to come and go as it pleased. Silver’s pointing out of a cloud shaped like Cream’s head led to a long span of time where they stared to the sky, occasionally pointing out the strange forms they observed. It was all so regular, so fundamentally plain, and it brought her nigh unending peace. Though she yawned throughout their meal, Blaze never found herself falling asleep.

His arms had found their way to hold her, clasping just above her bellybutton. This had been intended to relax her, but the princess couldn’t help but take in how peaceful her partner looked. He’d been so overexcited, but he’d equally worked so hard. It wasn’t surprising to see him so tired. After another long bout of silence, the hedgehog began to shift.

“Well, the food’s done,” He hummed, beginning to return the crockery to the hamper. In truth, they hadn’t managed to entirely finish all the sandwiches but she’d long since expressed her fullness, “We should probably head back, right?”

It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, but she fundamentally understood it. He was trying to be mature, trying to match the seriousness she so often displayed, but Blaze had been spurred on by their surroundings. If they truly were outside of time, able to return to it at any moment, then what was the rush? Why would she ever waste a day as perfect as this. Just this once, perhaps only this once ever, Blaze the cat, the guardian of the Sol emeralds and princess of the Sol kingdom, decided to be greedy.

“I don’t think two hundred years have passed yet,” The pyrokinetic hummed, sitting up stretching.

“Eh?” He was clearly caught off guard.

“I thought I got to decide when we went back?” She teased, now fully rising to her feet. Blaze turned to him, “If this is my kingdom then I would like to see it.”

The hedgehog stumbled to his feet, beaming, “R-Really? I didn’t look around too much, just in case you wanted to. I just took a bit of a glance around from above, made sure everything was as it should be.”

She brushed past him, taking the hedgehog’s hand and feeling her tail wrap around his waist, “Shall we stroll then? Take in this island, unsullied by others’ footsteps?”

He squeezed her hand, bundling their picnic spread into a neat pile and setting her royal robe atop it, “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

That stroll quickly evolved into a frankly stupid dash through the woods. Hand in hand soon turned to arm in arm as they leapt through the thick bracken of the underbrush. Though the hedgehog apparently had some knowledge of the layout, the feline soon ended up leading and racing to reach spots she knew would be transformed with time. A great peach tree forest presently stood, proud and strong, where the royal gardens would eventually take root. The feline had known that these trees were native to the island, but not that they were nearly so plentiful. In her time, only a few remained on Southern Island, one at the heart of the aforementioned garden and another near the town centre. Both were said to be centuries old but now Blaze knew that was certainly true.

Beyond those trees were a swamp, now the site of southern island’s main shopping district. The countless croaking of frogs proved to her that this part of her kingdom had always been loud, but seeing it in such a natural state almost made Blaze wish it was still in such a state. Still, that feeling was quickly washed away as Silver went to pick up a small amphibian only to tumble over himself. Though he managed to psychically keep himself from falling, the response from all the frogs was to leap from the brackish liquid and scatter in all directions. The cacophony of croaks was only rivalled by the sound of their slippery forms crashing back into the water and against the ferns of the undergrowth. The sight of him, bashfully hanging there as if he’d been ensnared in some unseen trap, was more than enough to make her laugh. In an instant, the hunter had taken the place of his supposed prey. What he’d intended to do with a frog if he’d caught it, let alone why he’d tried to catch one with his hands, Blaze had no idea, but it’d only added to the enjoyable mundanity of the day.

No reason, beyond the virtue of freedom she felt welling in her chest, led Blaze to break from staring at him and, still grinning from ear to ear, take off running. The hedgehog gave pursuit, for once not so oblivious as to think this was more than a mere game. Blaze jumped over roots and weaved through trees, running just out of arm’s reach ahead of the psychic. Her heart pounded as though this was some harsh battle, some life-or-death scenario, but she knew it’d only been stoked by the childish part of infatuation. She couldn’t do this in her time, not without feeling the eyes of her people scrutinising her every movement. Even when she was in the other dimension, the presence of so many people made her feel as though her every movement was being analysed. This was freedom, a form of release from her inhibitions that she’d never experience otherwise. It was as though they were in that destroyed future again, still children who were oblivious to how the world was supposed to be, but free from the pressures that world had forced upon them.

She ran and ran and ran until the trees were no more, until the grass vanished from under her and stone took its place. Blaze found herself at the edge of a bluff, overlooking the beach and the sea just beyond it. The feline knew this rockface well, she and he had enjoyed many picnics atop it. Though it was open and exposed now, it would with time become one of the most secluded and private places on the entire island. Panting, she drew the back of her hand across her brow and threw a glance back to him. Cyan light was glowing from the trees, he was in pursuit but had perhaps lost her.

“Silver! This way!” She called out before quickly turning her attention back to the view.

To Blaze, the value of the sea had been lost to her life spent on an island nation. She’d come to take the waters for granted, it was all she’d known for much too long, her relationship with the ocean had been a rather dull one. But now, seeing a beach devoid of people and waters more pristine than ever before, the beauty of the view took her by force. An untouched driftwood barrier formed a long yet broken line along the shore, protecting and simultaneously buffering a wide collection of rocks and shells of all different sizes and shapes.

She heard him land at her side; the key reason that she could stand heights like this. Across both lives, he’d helped her overcome that fear of falling. That alone was a miracle, she couldn’t believe she’d overlooked his potential for quite so long. What had once been a power she was equal parts captivated by and envious of had quickly become a rather romantic tool, a key part of unspoken his arsenal. Though this was the first occasion he’d taken them out of time for such a casual reason, he’d so often and so casually snuck her gifts with his power and carried her for miles above the ground. With the wave of his hand he could sweep her off her feet, not that he would without checking in first.

“It’s beautiful. This spot reminds me of when I first arrived in this world, everything looked so incredible. Undamaged, untouched,” The hedgehog thought aloud, “Do you want to head down there?”

Her tail had already snuck its way around his side again, but she knew that wasn’t enough of a hint for him. She had control, the almighty time traveling psychic was practically wrapped around her finger. It was probably due to their lonely situation but, now that they were away from the forest, it was as though the pair were more isolated than ever. She couldn’t help but feel just a little more confident than usual.

Yawning, mimicking the kind of movements she’d only ever seen in movies and read of in books, the feline stretched her arm around his far shoulder, “I suppose I might.”

Beet red colouration rushed to colour his cheeks as she stepped closer and allowed her right hand to sink into his chest fur, “I-I’ll take you wherever you want to go…”

She raised her leg and he quickly caught on, using his psychic pull to bring her into a bridal carry. This position had taken on different meanings across their lives. While once the feeling of his arm beneath her knee was a sign that they were retreating, it now signified a journey toward something. Be it the peak of a mountain or deep into a valley or simply further in their relationship, this position was a sign of movement. Gently, casually, she let herself lean into his shoulder.

Plainly trying to ignore his blush, a sheen of cyan overtook the hedgehog’s body as gravity abandoned them. With a single step they were floating above the abyss, but he didn’t stop there. As if walking on any normal road, the hedgehog paced further and further forward. With each step they would descend as far down as they did forward. Despite their relatively slow pace, Blaze lost track of time as she stared up at him.

There was something about moments like this, when that psychic glow coated him and his quills hardened in response. It contrasted so heavily with the childhood view she’d had of him, of an adorable ball of white fluff who was far too serious for his own good. Places like this brought out the best in him, let him be more casual and match his inherently soft aesthetic. He could be harsh and strong when he had to be, but she knew this was his closer to his natural state.

As his feet met the ground his eyes crashed into hers. She opted not to step out of his grasp, “S-So, um, we’re here.”

“I’d noticed,” She hummed, scanning their surroundings. He’d landed them on the inner edge of the driftwood barrier, where shells had gathered for years on this untouched land, “Shall we sit?”

“If you want,” The hedgehog struggled to respond, lowering the pair of them to the ground. Naturally, she maintained her position in his lap and atop him.

So very casually, or at least as casually as she could manage, the pyrokinetic cast a glance to her surroundings. The crashing of waves was somehow clearer than it typically was in her time, perhaps due in part to the lack of individuals intruding upon the ocean’s path. The sand was especially smooth, perhaps a result of the ocean’s efforts going entirely unhindered. She blindly stretched behind her, feeling her way through what few shells were in reach. They were cockles, as was supposed to be the case on the island. She had a meeting regarding their harvesting later today or, rather, in almost two thousand years.

She caught sight of his staring out of the corner of her eye. He was looking out to sea, but the remnants of his blush still lingered on his cheeks. Her only regret in all this was that she hadn’t seen his reaction as he first laid eyes upon this untouched world. The hedgehog had grown such an affinity for nature, a want to both experience and protect. It’d become an additional aspect of his role defending that other world, making sure that nature continued to thrive. From gardening to birdwatching to hiking, he’d fully embraced what he so often had to go weeks without.

He would leave again soon to perform that duty, she had to take advantage of what they had both here and now.

“You know, this has all been quite the flagrant misuse of your powers,” She tutted, shifting her weight to push him backwards as she broke the silence, “Very irresponsible.”

It was hardly the most scathing of her taunts but, perhaps due to the physical act that had coincided with it, her words it clearly snatched the hedgehog’s attention. His eyes flickered up to her, wide with surprise. The term your highness, or any of her royal titles for that matter, didn’t much appeal to the feline, but turning her learned regal traits on the hedgehog was an endless source of fun. She watched as surprise was gradually overcome by what little defiance he could muster; she already knew what he was going to say.

“W-Well,” He stuttered, trapped beneath her, “I thought it was for the best? It’s not like I only use my powers to save the world, I used them to pass you grapes before we left.”

“Ah yes, how long ago was that? More than ten minutes must have past by now,” The feline felt a smirk grow on her face as the hedgehog squirmed, “You’ve made me late.”

“We’ll be back on time, I promise,” He managed to reply, struggling to meet her gaze, “I-I’ll drop you right into the meeting room if you want, we can even arrive early. Your past self will be in the library for ten minutes before it starts, you can spend all that time getting ready for the next meeting.”

“How naïve, making such decisions for a princess,” She sat up straight, shuffling off of him a little.

The hedgehog managed to rise just a little, though his blush hadn’t cleared in the slightest, “Y-You’re happy to be here though, right? You’re happy to have this break?”

“Am I?” Blaze turned away from him and smirked toward the sea, “Whyever would you think that?”

“Y-You’ve been smiling,” He stammered, she could imagine the worry on his face without even glancing his way.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” She lied, still looking out to sea. Far away, she could see where the waves dipped beneath the horizon. They really were alone out here. Playing with him like this in such a public space was truly liberating, “Though I supposed I have enjoyed this, somewhat.”

“I’m glad,” Like a switch had been flipped, he was beaming again, “You looked so tired back in the library. I know I can’t do much to help with your work but, if you ever need something like this again, you only need to say.”

“We can’t do this every time, Silver. There will be occasions when I’ll want to, but I know we shouldn’t,” His smile wavered, she cupped his cheek. He was so genuine, so sweet, so naïve, “Just having you by my side is more than enough,” She allowed that hand to slip to his quills and ruffle them, “Although, that’s not to say I won’t ever take you up on that offer…”

For a long while, surrounded by this serene scene, they simply sat and enjoyed each other’s company. Blaze found herself not sleeping but simply snuggling into the time traveller, burying her head into the crook of his neck before lowering to reclaim the pillow that was his chest. Eventually though, the feline knew that she was as comfortable as was possible, that all her relaxation had reached its climax. Pushing herself from his frame to loom above him once again.

“We should probably head back,” She snorted, as he fumbled to his feet, “Or, I suppose, head forward in this case.”

“If you’re sure you’re ready,” He double checked, only casting his hands skyward as she nodded.

Psychokinesis whirred and hummed, a great blue pulse left the markings on his hand only to soar above and beyond the cliff-face. While that energy was racing towards their belongings, the hedgehog’s face took on a frankly goofy expression. Despite how casual this situation was, his commonly serious demeanour had leached through to make him look rather foolish. His very colourful and uniquely patterned shirt certainly wasn’t helping matters.

In no less than a minute, Blaze sighted a glowing bundle soaring over the bluff’s lip. Like some kind of soft meteor, the wrapped-up picnic basket crashed towards them, only just stopping before it could hit the hedgehog in the chest. As the pile swept past, she plucked her robe from the top and shouldered it.

“You’re sure that you’ll be able to get us back to the right time, aren’t you?” The princess asked, dusting the sand from her tights.

“I promise,” He smiled, floating the bundle behind them before stretching his hands forward. From the quills at the back of his head, a well-cut green stone flew to hover in front of them. A chaos emerald, his preferred source of energy.

As though he was washing a window with sponges strapped to both of his palms, the hedgehog began to wave his hands in repeated circles. More energy began to pool in front of him like a warbling plate, it quickly grew from the size of a droplet to become far larger than either of them. The outer edge of the disk gradually ceased in their shifting and the hedgehog’s hands fell to his sides. The effort did seem to take it out of him a little but, with them now both bathing in the light of transportation, he wouldn’t have to work again.

“After you,” He gestured ahead, plucking the emerald from the air.

Blaze, entirely trusting her partner, stepped forward. Shifting across time and space was, by now, practically second nature to her. Once upon a time she’d struggled with the instantaneous shift from one place to another, her first arrival in the other dimension had left her dizzy and exhausted. Now she knew some best practices; to close her eyes, hold her breath and keep her balance.

She stepped off of sand and straight onto hardwood.

The strong scent of coffee struck Blaze first, the only true amenity in the room was a small coffeepot set on a small side table. That much was enough to let Blaze know that they’d arrived. No wind rustled through her fur and the room was lit by a series of electric lights that had been plugged into the celling when she was five. They were at the heart of the palace, there were no windows for the sun to breach. Just a boring wooden table with reflective varnish. He walked in behind her, sealing the portal with no more than a wave as he finished arriving.

Compared to the world they’d just known; the silence of the meeting room was deafening. She already missed the breaking of waves and the ticking of the room’s clock wasn’t a worthy replacement. They’d manifested at the head of the table, her position, and were faced with six empty seats. A glance to the wall proved that Silver had stuck to his word, it was exactly ten minutes till one o’clock. On the long stretching desk, directly in front of her seat, was a bulky binder filled with notes and opened to the hour’s itinerary. Ah yes, she’d gone from running through forests, trudging through swamps and having a heart to heart on the beach to discussing where to bury the dead in no more than a moment.

How long had they spent away? She’d assumed that it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours but, in truth, time had been rather lost on her. Despite his intent being to create a time for resting, they’d ran and acted in such a wild manned. Instead, he’d energised her in an entirely different way. He’d brought her excitement; he’d given her the strength to carry on and get through today. How could she even begin to repay that?

An idea wriggled its way into Blaze’s head.

Nonchalantly, the feline redonned her robe and neatly fastened it before retaking her seat, pretending to scan her notes, “Well, everything seems to be in order…”

“I told you that I’d get us back on time,” She could hear the joy in his voice.

“You certainly did,” The princess squinted at the page, placing her finger beneath a chosen random word, “But it does look like the timeline has changed, ever so slightly.”

“W-What? It has?” He rushed to her side, leaning over her shoulder to look at the papers, “Blaze, what are you talking about? This is still all about refurbishing gravesto-

The moment he turned from the page to look at her, Blaze’s hand sunk into the quills on the back of his head and pulled him in just a little closer. He surely knew what she was about to do, she’d done it often enough, but that didn’t seem to stop him from becoming flustered. After a moment of staring, taking in his blushing face, Blaze closed her eyes and closed the distance.

Feeling him shudder at the first contact, wanting to return her efforts but being restricted by her hold, brought the princess endless jubilation. Blaze’s heartbeat shot up, as she pulled him in and offered him the slightest of opportunities. He hurriedly took it, pushing to further close the distance as is such a thing was possible. The taste of raspberry lemonade on his lips was just an added bonus. Feeling him grow tense beneath her touch, knowing that, despite his capacity to take her back in time, she had this power over him, was incredible. A might not born of her royal position or pyrokinetic might, but love.

The kiss didn’t last for long, of course. Not only did she have work to return to, but Blaze knew it was best to leave him wanting more. As she pulled back, her eyes reopened and his bashful face filled her vision. Eyes lit like overexcited lighting bolts, cheeks like poppy petals and a thorough look of overexcitement had claimed his face.

“S-So, I take it the timeline hasn’t actually changed then?” The psychic eventually asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” She smirked, “You’re the same naïve hedgehog you were when we left.”

“That’s good,” He struggled to reply, “I-I think.”

For a moment longer she simply stared into his eyes and watched him squirm. The princess didn’t especially wear makeup but the idea of leaving a lipstick stain on him had crossed her mind a handful of times. He probably wouldn’t even notice until it was too late. But, alas, similarly too late, they’d been lingering together for much too long. The pair of them had just spent hours together, she’d decided it was time to go, and yet she didn’t want to release him. What foolishness…

“I’ll see you in an hour and a half, perhaps a little longer,” She mused, still holding the back of his head, “If you can make such good use of two minutes, what can you do with so much more?”

“W-Well, um,” He squeaked, “I guess I’ll try to think of something?”

Her fingers uncurled from his quills but the hedgehog, plainly stunned, didn’t move, “I’m sure you will, but, for now, we must part.”

“O-Oh, right, yes, um,” He shot up straight, quickly looking away, “Good luck with, um, t-the graveyard people.”

“You’ll need to get used to this eventually,” She rolled her eyes. Despite the rarity of their kisses, given only when she was certain no one else could see, she’d thought that he’d have grown a little bolder by now. Despite the smallness of her action in comparison to his, the hedgehog was adorably lovestruck.

“I don’t know that I can do that in an hour and a half, even with time travel,” He mumbled, tugging at his chest fur, “And an extra fifteen minutes probably won’t change that.”

He could be so naïve, so blunt and oblivious. Without a second thought, Blaze rose from her seat and took him by the collar. Uttering nothing more than the word “Well, if you can’t manage that,” For the second time in so many minutes, her lips found his. The ticking of the wall clock filled her ears as they parted again, “Just brace yourself for when I finish up.”

[fairylightsandchai]

The Internship - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested. 

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no? 

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.) 

           You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.

           And then the Battle of New York had happened.

           You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.

           But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.

           After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.  

           You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.

You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.

At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.

           And now you were about to walk into his class.

           Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.

           Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.

           You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.

           “Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.

           You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.

           “U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”

           Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.

           He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s-            “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”

           The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.

           “Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”

           His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.

           “You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”

           The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.

           “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”

           Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.

           “Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.

           “Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.

           “Any questions?”

           There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.

           “Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.

           Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.

           “That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”

____________

           Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.

           He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.

           A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.

           As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.

           A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.

           But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.

           The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.

           Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.

You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.            

After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.

There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink.            “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.

“No, Tina,” you sighed.

“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.

“Is never a viable answer?”

“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”

“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”

You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.

“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”

“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”

“TINA!”

“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”

Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.

But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé  about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.

No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.

___________

You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.

Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.

Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.

More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.

As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.

Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.

He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.

“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.

“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.

“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)

“That’s a nice color on you.”

“Looking lovely as always.”

You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.

           Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.

           This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.

           After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.

           “This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”

           Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-

           “(Y/N), is that you?”

           …Maybe you’d spoken too soon.

           Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.

           “Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

           “Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”

           You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.

           “Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”

           “Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.

           “The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”

           “Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”

           “Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”

           Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.

           “It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”

           You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.

           “Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.

           “Thanks, doll.”

           You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.

           “N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.

           “I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”

           Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.

           “Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.

           “Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

           He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.

           “No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”

           Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.

           You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.

           “Steve?”

           He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.

           “Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”

           “It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”

           “Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”

           You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.

           “I’m just joking,” you assured him.

           “Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”

           You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.

           Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.

           “You ok over there, doll?”

           “Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”

           “Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.

           “Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”

           You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.

           For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.

           “Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”

           You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.

           “Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”

           You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.

           “No problem, hon.”

           You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.

           How had he known that you were friends with Tina?

_____

           Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.

           Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.

           But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.

           You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.

           He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.

           He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.

           You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.

           His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.

           With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.

           He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.

           His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.

           But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.

           All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.

           He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.

_______

           You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.

           Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.

           When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.

           As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.

           “Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”

           “Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”

           You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.

           “Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”

           When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.

           “Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.

           After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.

           The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.

           Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.

           When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.

           “Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.

           “So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.

           “For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”

           You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)

           “If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”

           A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?

           “…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.

           When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.

           Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.

           “Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.

           “Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”

           You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.

           “Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”

           “A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”

The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.

“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”

           “Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”

           “Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”

           You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.

           “It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”

           “It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”  

           Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.

           “Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.

           As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”

           “Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”

           “Why not?”

           “Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”

           You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.

           “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“

           “No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

           Your lips twitched into a half-smile.

           “Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”

           “…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”

           “Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.

           “What is it?” you asked.

           “Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.

           Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?

           You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.

           “I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.

           For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.

­­­­______

           You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.

           Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.        

           When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.

           “You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.

           “I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”

           Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.

           Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.

           You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.

           Dear (Y/N),

           Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.

           Sincerely,

                       Steve Rogers

           You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.

           You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.

           After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.

           When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.

           “Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”

           “…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.

           He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.

           “I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“

           “How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”

           Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.

           “Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”

           You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.

           “I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”

           Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.

           You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.

           “U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.

           “It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.

           “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”

           Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.

           Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.

           “It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”

           The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.

           “So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”

           He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

           “That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”

           You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.

           “Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”

           “Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”

           “Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”

           “Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”

           You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.

           “A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.

           “That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”

           Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.

           But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?

           “I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”

           Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

           “Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.

           “Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“

           “No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”

           Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.

           “Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.

           “Whatya say?”

           You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.

           “I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“

           “It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”

           You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.

           Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

           “I’ll do it.”

_______

           Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.

           He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.

           Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.

           He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.

           You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.

[koeyohte]

It’s bright in the hallway.  Sunlight streams in from the expansive glass doors and windows just a few steps away in the atrium.  The campus has received many remodels in the past few years and I’m fortunate to be taking two of my semester’s classes in this airy building.

    I’ve never been good with school.  Other students could casually discuss what they’d learned or cram their study session in the night before an exam and do just fine.  I’ve always needed extra help - after hours work from the teachers, tutors, extravagant memory solutions.  I’d finished high school last year and now was waiting, alone, outside a closed wood door where my english literature class would take place; not for a while though, I think, glancing down at my phone.  I’m always early to class.  For now, I’m sitting on the floor, plucking at stray fibers of material from my jean shorts and wondering if wearing leggings would have been a better idea.  The tile is a cold shock to my skin whenever I touch it.

    I’ve been taking this class for three weeks now - two days in each of those weeks on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I look hopefully down the hallway, toward the atrium.  There’s usually a quiet young man who arrives early and waits across from me.  He keeps to himself and is always reading something.  I think he’s nice to look at, though I would never admit it out loud.  He’s a bit unusual looking - angular features compliment a frame that’s thin and wiry, but with broad shoulders that make him appear larger than he likely really is.  His hair falls just past his shoulders, which is unusual around here.  I’ve never seen a man around my age with long hair.  When I’m sitting on the floor, he seems rather tall, but when I’m standing, he’s actually about the same height as me.  I don’t know anything about him but it’s nice to share the otherwise lonely wait in the hallway with him.  I feel like there’s something calm and even comforting about him, though I’m not really sure why.

Twice, I’ve switched up what side of the hall I stand on, just to see what he’ll do.  He stood farther away during the first week but after I accidentally dropped my notes and he picked them up for me in the second week, he’s been standing a little closer, still always across from me.  I remember noticing a narrow but long scar across his wrist when he handed me my notepad.  His hands were rather rough when they brushed mine.  He hardly met my eyes and was quick to move away again, like he was uncomfortable with being near me.  The dark circles under his eyes were much more apparent up close.

I look up when I hear the doors of the atrium open and my heart skips a beat.

    He’s buried in his phone just like he has been every day before.  He makes his way down the hall, barely looking up even once, and comes to lean against the wall opposite me like he always does.  He looks past his phone to nod at me, which I wasn’t expecting.  I try to smile at him but it comes out like more of a grimace.  He doesn’t seem offended and brushes his long hair from his face while he continues to read.  His hair is a strange, dark blond color and it frames his sharp features in a way that makes it difficult for me to look away. He doesn’t seem to attract much attention from anyone else but I realize as I stare at him that I find him oddly handsome.

    I guess that explains why I’ve randomly thought about him more than a few times this past week.  That’s new for me.

    Confused by my revelation, I look away before he can notice.  I don’t even know his name.  There’s a subtle smoky scent that I now recognize is coming from his bag.  It’s sweet and herbal rather than stale and dusty.  His clothes are the same as always - a button down, earth-toned shirt with dark grey slacks.  He looks like he should be working in an office.

    He doesn’t say much and he won’t speak unless spoken to. I’m not sure if that’s just how he is, or if it’s a manners thing, or if he actually despises small talk.  He seems too buried in deep thought for it, from my observations.  He’s always reading something, whether a book in his hand or something on his phone.  I can tell they’re not text messages by the way he brings the phone up and stares at it while occasionally scrolling for the entire 20 minutes we usually stand in the hallway.

    It’s surprising and a bit bewildering to admit that I like looking at him, but it’s true.  That being said, I find just about everyone nice to look at in some way.  It’s confusing sometimes.  I’ve never felt anything more for anyone, though, despite being pursued more than once.  It just hasn’t happened yet I guess.  I’m in no rush, so it’s alright with me.  Unintentional flings don’t seem enjoyable and I can’t imagine being so intimate and open with someone who doesn’t plan to be there in the future.  Unlike Sun, I think to myself - she’s been with lots of people, and while some of them still spend time with her just as friends, others have left a bad taste in my mouth.  She’s easily forgiven them.  Or forgotten.  Maybe both.

    Someone else walks between us and when I glance up, I’m surprised when the man across the hall looks quickly away from me.  I watch him for a moment, wondering how long he was staring.  Maybe he wasn’t.  Instead of looking back at me, he scratches at his chin and tucks his phone away, looking at something over my head.  I find myself glancing upwards, assuming there’s a flyer I must have missed, but there’s nothing there.  When I look back at him, he’s watching me again, but he startles.

    “Sorry,” he mutters and looks away.  He sticks his hands into his pockets and avoids my gaze.  I’m not sure what to say.  That it’s okay?  That sounds weird, possibly even creepy.  Should I ask him if something’s amiss?  That might be weirder.

    He’s looking at me again and this time, he doesn’t shy away from my own gaze.  His light eyes trail down to my knee, where I realize he’s eyeing a small cut from where I had banged it on one of Sun’s short coffee tables last week.  He looks like he wants to speak but he’s holding himself back.

    “Ran into a table,” I say awkwardly, gesturing at the wound.  It’s just a small red line now.  The man looks back to my eyes and nods.

    “Looks recent,” he says after a moment.  His voice is mellow and lighter than I expected it to be.  He sits in the first row, close to me in our class, yet I’ve rarely heard him speak; certainly not more than a simple yes or no.  “Not from this week, though.”

    I tilt my head at him, surprised he can tell.  “How’d you know?”

    Something passes across his face.  He looks almost disappointed - or angry?  “I’ve seen a lot of… cuts,” he mutters.  He shakes his head but falls silent again.  His expression is mellow as he stares at the tiles between us.  Relaxed, he’s very nice to look at.

    I feel myself start when he blinks up at me again.  I’m wracking my mind for something to say.  There’s a palpable tension in the air - either that, or I’m just incredibly nervous, for some reason.

    “What happened to your wrist?” I blurt, glancing at the pale pink line that reaches over his skin.  He pushes his hand further into his pocket and I fear I’ve crossed some invisible boundary with him.

    “Nothing,” he responds quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper.  His posture is stiff now and he’s avoiding my gaze, so I don’t press him.

    “What do you do?” I ask, hoping a change in subject will make him feel more at ease.

    “Metal shop,” he mutters simply.  He’s still not looking at me.  Deciding he’s done with the conversation, I just nod and go back to my phone.  Sun’s sent me a picture of some plants she wants to buy for her patio.

    “What about you?” he asks after a moment.  I’m glad that he’s not giving up so soon.  He still looks upset, or frustrated, but his posture’s relaxed a bit.

    “Just… this right now.  I’ve been around.”  I pause, realizing how that sounds.  “I mean - I’ve had a few odd jobs.  Nothing serious.  Coffee shops, library, things like that.”

    At mention of the library, the man perks up.  “What did you do there?”

    “Just inventory, organizing shelves, scheduling shipments from one branch to another.”  I watch his features change, almost dramatically, from brooding and gloomy to fascination.

    “I assume that means you like to read?” he asks, standing up straighter.  He takes his hands from his pockets and folds them.  He crosses one leg over the other and suddenly appears much more comfortable than he ever has in the hallway.  The newfound engagement on his face makes him much nicer to look at.

    “I do,” I begin, but before he can ask me what most everyone does, I hurry on, “but mostly nonfiction.  I had to focus on school for so long, I hardly had time to read for fun reading.  I’m just now getting into it again.”

    To my surprise, he nods as if he understands.  Most people find what I’ve said to be ridiculous, or a poor excuse to avoid reading as a hobby.

    “I’m like that sometimes, too,” he says.  “I’m always reading something, though reading purely for enjoyment is something I only very rarely get to do.  I’m….”  He tilts his head to the side and sighs as though he’s about to tell me something ludicrous.  “I’m in the midst of a collection of European cavalry history, right now.”

    I nod, unsure of what to say.  It doesn’t sound particularly appealing to me, but I can understand the draw for someone who knows more already than I do.  I try to smile in place of empty words, and the man drops his gaze to the floor again.

    I notice a tear in the belt loop of my shorts and start to pull at it.  They’re one of my favorites, as they actually fit.  I have exceptionally wide hips, so everything is either too tight in the thighs or too loose everywhere else.  I grumble when the string gets caught on my ring.  I wear a thin silver band around my ring finger on my left hand - I grew tired of people trying to hit me up.  Free from the devious string, I glance down the hall, but first I steal a glance at my classmate.

    I nearly startle when I notice his eyes are resting on me again.  It looks like he meant to just glance at me but upon noticing my staring, now he is too, in an effort to hide his intention.  Whatever it was.

    My heart is pounding in my ears.  I can feel my pulse in my chest.

    “Jeans,” I say weakly, shrugging at the string in my hand.  The young man nods once.  I see him swallow and lower his phone from his face.

    “I had a sister who wore a lot of them,” he says slowly, as though he’s considering each word before he speaks.

    I notice how he chose his words - “had” a sister.  I offer him a polite smile.

    “I’ve never had a sister.”

    “Brothers?” the man asks.  I shake my head.  He shrugs.  “More resources for yourself.”

    I open my mouth to respond, then realize that nothing natural comes to mind.  What an odd thing to say.

    “I suppose,” I finally say.  He had started to look at his phone again but when I speak, he pauses.

    “You suppose?”

    I look away.  There’s an edge to his tone that wasn’t there previously.  He seems frustrated with my comment.  His brows lower and the creases along his mouth deepen.  Whatever attraction I did feel toward him fades slightly.  The man straightens himself up and tucks his phone into his pocket.

    “You don’t get anything to yourself with six siblings,” he elaborates.  A subtle, tired smile flashes across his face at my expression of surprise.  “That’s all I meant.”

    Realizing that he noticed my disenchantment with his tone, I begin to feel guilty.

    “It’s alright,” I manage, hoping he’ll forgive my reaction.  I’ve always been sensitive to people’s behavior.  I assume it has something to do with a handful of particular years during my childhood.  My mother went through something that I was too young to understand, but I didn’t miss the things she did and said to me before she found herself again.  I’m quick to assume the worst from people rather often.  It’s something Sun likes to remind me about, if she isn’t criticizing my willingness to help people.

“Seven of you?” I ask, realizing the man is still watching me.

    He nods.  “We’re fosters… so, none of us are really related.  Different ages, come from different places….”  He looks suddenly uncomfortable and trails off, looking away.  He sticks his hands back into his pockets, shoulders slumping.  He looks like he wishes he hadn’t told me.

    “That must be difficult.  I can’t imagine that.”

    “Hmm.”  The young man looks back to me.  “It can be.”

    A few other classmates are starting to arrive.  I’m disappointed that we don’t get the hall to ourselves anymore.  The man pulls his phone back out and resumes his reading like I’m not there at all.  I get the distinct impression that his foster family is something he doesn’t speak about much and probably didn’t mean to offer to me.

    The rest of the wait goes by as usual.  Relative silence in the hall is replaced by shuffling shoes, the rustling of paper, the clamoring of heavy books against tile, and chatter.

The door to the classroom opens, the last of the previous class files out, and the professor beckons us inside.  I take my place in the front row, all the way over to the right, where I’ve made a corner against the far wall.  The man follows and sits two seats away like he always does.  The professor does all the talking, until discussion time.  My quiet companion and I aren’t exactly fans of speaking to the class.  The professor hasn’t called on us yet and she doesn’t this week, either.

    Once dismissed, I gather my things and wait patiently for the young man to take his so I can leave.  He’s shuffling papers in his bag and muttering to himself.  He looks upset, so I pretend to read a message, but am glad to see one from Sun to respond to anyway.  She’s got some exciting news about a new girlfriend, it seems.  I begin to type a reply but the man groans and moves aside, pinning himself uncomfortably against the table.

    “Sorry, I’m sorry.  Go ahead.”  He waits for me to pass him and I notice how he recoils further as I do, as if being near another person disgusts him.  His knuckles are white against the table and he’s turned his head away from me like he’s afraid I’ll look too closely.  I try not to think too much about it, hoping it’s not personal to me.  I pause just after him when I notice the way he paws frantically through his things.

    “You okay?” I ask, lowering my phone.  He looks up.

    “Yes.  I just… lost something.”

    “Can I help?”  I start to move closer but he quickly straightens up, picks up the bag and sighs heavily.

    “No.  Thank you.”  Clearly frustrated, he strides past me toward the classroom door.  I’m surprised when he holds it open and looks expectantly at me.  I thank him and sweep out into the hall.

    “You sure you’re okay?” I ask again when he trudges past me.  He frowns.

    “I’m fine.”

    “Okay.”  He doesn’t seem fine.  He seems to be silently fuming.  His brows are low and the creases in his face are deep.  I remind myself that I don’t know him and it’s best to leave him be.  Despite the way my feelings get carried away so easily, I have to remind myself that they shouldn’t choose my decisions for me.  It’s very difficult, especially when I see someone upset or in need.  Sun likes to tease me about it, telling me I’ll spread myself thin trying to provide more attention to everyone I’ll ever meet than I ever do for myself.

Some days, I think she’s right.

I leave my disgruntled classmate behind and go to stand outside, waiting for my mother to pull the car up.  We share the vehicle, so she dropped me off today.  She had work for a few hours while I was on campus and doesn’t always get off on time.  I could be waiting here awhile.

    I look up when someone comes to stand next to me.  It’s my classmate, and he’s fidgeting like he’s distressed or like something is wrong.  His hands are flexing like he’s in pain and he’s gritting his jaw.  I don’t ask him this time if he’s okay.  He’s staring straight ahead as if I’m not there.

    “You getting picked up?” he asks suddenly.  I nod and ask him the same.  He barely hides a scoff.  “Ah - no.  They would never… no.  I just....”  He frowns and looks down.  “Nevermind.”

    “Wait.”  I follow him as he steps back toward the building.  He looks strangely on edge, like a frightened, injured animal.  I feel myself hiding an eye roll at the way he stares at me like I’ve caused him further upset.  “Don’t worry, I won’t ask if you’re alright - but... do you need anything?”

    He looks offended until he realizes why.  “I’m sorry,” he begins, turning around to face me again.  His voice is thin and suddenly soft.  There’s something gentle in the way he speaks to me now.  “I didn’t mean to be rude.  It’s not… socializing isn’t my strong suit.”  He looks sheepishly away again, hand anxiously rubbing at the strap of his backpack.  I can see how worn it is there.  “You don’t… have a lighter, do you?”

    That’s what the herbal smell was.

    “Sorry, no.”  I don’t have anything against smoking, but I’ve never done it myself.  Sun does, sometimes.  I’ve sat in her room in the cloudy, sweet haze while her company languished around, discussing things they weren’t ever quite relaxed enough to allow themselves the luxury of doing before.  It’s a great time it seems, but I won’t try it with so many strangers around.  I trust Sun with my life, but she has a lot of strangers in her room sometimes.  Some come and go swiftly and others stay for weeks.

    The man casts me a small smile.  I hate how charming he looks like that.

    “Darn.  Hope you won’t think any less of me for it, anyways.”

    “What makes you so sure I’m thinking about you at all?”

    I’ve spoken before thinking.  I feel my face flush bright red.  He blinks at me for a moment, then looks away.  Neither of us say anything for several breaths.  The tension is stifling.

    I close my eyes and shake my head at myself.

    “That - that was… I didn’t mean it like that.”

    The man laughs quietly and I see him reach up to scratch distractedly at the back of his neck, ruffling his hair.  He looks shabby but in a confusingly enticing way.

    “‘S alright,” he mumbles.  I allow myself to look at him for a moment while he’s busy looking anywhere else but at me.  His face is lightly shadowed and his sharp features cast sunlight across his forehead and the bridge of his hooked nose.  His eyes are light, unlike my own.  As I look, I notice pretty, almost yellow centers.  I’ve heard of heterochromia but I can’t tell from here if that’s what’s there for sure.

    He looks at me again and I notice out of my peripheral vision that my mother’s little blue car is turning into the driveway.

    “My mom’s here,” I announce, unsure of how else to proceed.  The tension is still there but it’s not as taut.  The man looks up and backs away from me as though he shouldn’t be seen so close.  He’s chewing his lip but as the car pulls up to a stop, he just looks away from me again.

    “See you,” he says, and turns back into the building before I can even respond.  I open the passenger door and climb in, not allowing myself to stall, and glad when my mother doesn’t ask any questions.

[chayscribbles-archive]

FINNPETRA FLUFF FEBRUARY ❃ DAY 21: THE LIBRARY

i’m writing a little fluffy prompt piece set around my wip muddy roads & foxgloves every day for the month of february. see all FinnPetra Fluff February posts here!

POV: Finneas.

setting: dating for a while.

synopsis: Petra takes Finneas to the library to indulge him in his secret interest in astronomy.

words: 1091

other notes: this might make a little more sense if you’ve read my other drabble, “Stargazing”. but it’s not necessary to read that one to enjoy this one.

Finneas hadn’t set foot in a public library for so long, he almost felt like he was intruding.

His footsteps, along with Petra’s, were muffled as they crossed the carpeted floor from the entrance to the information desk, under amber-hued glass-stained lamps hung overhead. Two tall potted plants stood at either side of the desk, behind which an older woman with thick spectacles was pouring over a volume.

She lifted her head as the two approached. “Can I help you?” the librarian asked with a welcoming smile.

Finneas bit his lip and glanced at Petra. Not that he was shy—he was just so used to going ahead and trying to figure out things on his own that asking for help from a stranger was like speaking a foreign language. But the library in downtown Richeport was so big that he had to admit, it might take hours for him to find what he wanted without a little guidance.

Petra gave him an encouraging nudge.

He turned back to the librarian. “Uh, where can we find books about, uh…” 

Something prevented him from speaking it out loud; either fear or self-consciousness at the thought of verbalizing this little interest of his that nobody knew about.

Nobody, except Petra, of course, who quietly slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze.

“Astronomy,” Finneas managed. “I want books about stars.”

The librarian nodded and pulled out a little memo pad and pencil. “Do you want beginner level, or something more advanced?”

“Uh… both?”

The woman began jotting down some titles. “You can find plenty of books on astronomy in the nonfiction section,” she said, “but here are some good ones to start with. And if those are too complicated for you, there are a couple of simpler tomes in the junior section.” She handed Finneas the list with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t hesitate to come back if you have any more questions!”

“Thank you.”

As Finneas skimmed the list, Petra led him by the hand towards the nonfiction section. Rows of tall wooden shelves packed with books of all colours and sizes lined the room, just shy of reaching the arched ceiling. Artwork and informational posters were hung on walls and on the sides of bookshelves. In an open area, wooden tables were set up for people to read. The colour palette of the room was composed almost exclusively with warm hues—browns, burgundies, and forest greens—which perfectly matched Petra’s patterned turtleneck sweater and made her look right at home amongst the books.

Finneas and his distressed jeans, however, still felt like an impostor.

While he tried to stifle his discomfort, Petra briefly paused in front of a long, trailing plant hung on the wall, but caught herself. “We’re here for Finneas,” she reminded herself under her breath, quickly moving along. “Not for me.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself. Petra’s little antics somehow made him feel like he belonged a little more.

Ducking into a row between two bookshelves, Finneas quickly located one of the books on the list and eagerly pulled it out. The Complete Guide To Modern Astronomy, read the white block letters over the colourful image of a galaxy. Petra peered over his shoulder as he thumbed through it, pausing every few pages to admire the pictures of stars and planets and constellations.

The images, unfortunately, were the only things he understood.

“I don’t know what half of these words mean,” he admitted in a whisper.

“Maybe try another one?” Petra suggested.

He went to replace the book on the shelf, but Petra stopped him.

“In the cart,” she hissed.

“But that’s where I got it from,” he argued. “Look, I even left a space here and everything.”

“Doesn’t matter. It helps them know which books are being consulted and measure how much people are using the library in general.” She took the book from his hands. “Here, I’ll hold it so you can look through other books.”

The next few books were just as incomprehensible, much to Finneas’ dismay. 

"There's no shame in starting with something simpler," Petra told him as he squinted at the words in a fifth volume. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

Finneas closed the book with a sigh. "Fine. To the kids’ section."

After they left the books on the cart by the aisle, they made their way to the junior section. The books there were much thinner but more vibrant, and as Finneas checked the reference numbers on the list against the stickers on the books, a scuffed up spine caught his eye.

Finneas pulled it out and found himself staring at a strangely familiar cover, an old-fashioned illustration of a little boy and a dog sitting on a hill, looking up at a starlit sky as the moon smiled down on them. A nostalgic smile spread across his face as he traced the letters of the title with his finger.

“Find something?” Petra asked.

He showed her the cover. “This is the book I’d borrow as a teen, when I was in foster care on that farm,” he explained, beaming. “When they sent me into town to run errands on my own, I’d stop by the library and borrow this book.”

“Is that how you learned all the names of the stars and constellations?”

Finneas nodded, flipping through the pages he still recognized, even after all those years. “I’d sneak out into the field with a flashlight and compare the pictures to the sky.” He closed the book and met Petra’s gaze. “Could we, uh… could we take it, and then… drive out of the city one day?”

“To do some stargazing with it?” Petra completed. “Sounds fun.”

He cast a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking, then swiftly made the book disappear into the fold of his jacket.

But not before Petra caught his arm.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, slipping her hand under his jacket to grab the book. 

“I’m taking it with me,” Finneas defended, tugging the book back into his jacket.

Petra sighed. “By ‘borrowed’ did you mean ‘snuck it out of the library under your coat’?”

“Hey, I always brought it back.”

“You know a library card is free, right?”

Finneas opened his mouth, then snapped it right shut. “Right,” he said sheepishly. “I, uh, always forget I can do some things the legal way.”

Petra shook her head. “Come on,” she ordered, taking hold of his hand and leading him back down the aisle. “Let’s get you a library card.”

thanks for reading! 💕

FinnPetra Fluff February taglist:

@magnoliaash​ @celestepens​ @cecilsstorycorner​ @stardustspiral​ @nora-theteawriter​ @dgwriteblr​ @pepperdee​ @jadeywrites​ @unholieds​ @writingbyjillian​ @piyawrites​ @ashen-crest​

[savedbybangtan]

Not Delulu (1)

Summary: You always hated women who dated kpop idols and are so glad that your ultimate bias, Kim Namjoon, has never disappointed you by being involved in such a scandal. You swear you’re not a delusional fan who doesn’t want him to be happy. You truly just want what’s best for him.

                 Apparently, He just wants whats best for you, too <3.

3,197 words

Chapter warning tags: mild invasion of privacy?

 Part One

Fingering through wistful fabrications of reality is my favourite hobby. Who knew time travelling was so easy? With a simple turn of a page, - something that takes mere nanoseconds - I can transcend dimensions and look into the past while reading the lines of a page. The only problem with reading books is that when you travel through time and space, your body is still in the present, operating on some badly programmed autopilot mode. As your eyes scan the books, other body parts mindless wander if you do not pay attention. Hence, you shouldn’t read as you walk.

However, as you walk through the aisle in this nook of your local bookstore, busily scanning the shelves for a particular new stock, you realise that not everyone had gotten this memo of the faulty autopilot mode.

A hard, large object seemed to be hurled at you, making you stumble to the floor. Your shoulder took most of the impact of the collision, but there was no other damage done. Your fall was broken by the shelves you grabbed onto during your descent.

“Wh-What,” a raspy voice from above turns about confused. He must have been the hard, large object. His oversized, grey hoodie is low on his head. His white hair conceals his face even more.

A book is opened in his hand. The same exact book that you were dying to get your ,hands on. You try to grab onto the floor to get up and that is when this tall figure looming over you finally notices your presence. “Oh!…” He grabs onto your forearm to help you up and you allow him to.

Somehow, he lost his footing, so when you brace yourself on him, he ends up falling too. The book he already had, the few in his other hand, and an entire row on the shelf he bumped into are now on the ground.

“Shit!,” you exclaim. “I’m so sorry.” You frantically begin picking up the books. You really didn’t have time for this. Your shift will soon start. You were only supposed to be in here for a few minutes, but not only did you spend about 10 minutes looking into the tiny store for the title, but now you’ve made a mess.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I lost my footing,” he admits shyly, but obviously upset.

His voice…It can’t be…

“I was the reason you fell in the first place.” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as he picks up the books quickly, not even bothering to organise them. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” You both simultaneously reach for the final book on the floor, another psychology book. You only knew it was a psychology book because you had that exact title sitting on your desk home. He adds it to the little pile of books he wanted to buy. “I apologise.”

You were sure now. You realise he is the love of your life, your idol, your ultimate bias – Kim Namjoon, RM of BTS. You recognise that low, deep, sultry, raspy, sexy voice from anywhere.

Don’t scream. Don’t get weird. Don’t scream. Don’t get weird.

It must be annoying when people get weird so DON’T get weird.

“I-It’s okay! I don’t blame you… Youuu… were reading Into the Spine by Montgomery.” Shit, why were you stumbling on your words so much? Be normal. “I understand. I’m actually looking for that same book. Just tell me where you got it and its all forgiven.” While you spoke softly, you straightened your work uniform.

“Sure,” he smiles politely. “They’re by the entrance since they’re new.”

“T-T-T-T-T-They are?” Shit, why are you stuttering after realising it was Joonie- Namjoon. It might be weird to be called a nickname by people you don’t know. He’s a celebrity so he might be used to it though… You realise, even with his black face mask on, he was smiling awkwardly at you.

“Yeah. You must have missed them when you came in.” He grabs your arm and it feels as if a lightning bolt hit your body. If you moved or jerked, he hadn’t noticed because he continues to lead you to the table near the entrance where the stacks of copies were.

You blush profusely, but he takes this as you being embarrassed for missing something so obvious. Act normal. “I must have been so excited to just get this book I made a beeline straight to the nonfiction section.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t blame you,” he mimics the first words you say to him. “Montgomery? Great author. I can’t wait to see what he has to say now about ‘brain power’,” Namjoon laughs. “He might go a bit overboard with his imagination, but he sure knows how to put things into perspective.”

“Yes! Everyone I talk to tell me that he’s a quack and says they don’t understand why I read this word vomit, but this guy is a genius!” You laugh, getting comfortable.

Namjoon just stares at you for a while. He nods. You can feel the conversation ending but didn’t want to let it go.

“Uhh… That book,” you point at the other book in his hand that you recognised earlier. “It’s good. Be prepared for some of the remarks in that one!”

Namjoon follows your eyes to see what you were talking about and throws his head back in laughter when he realizes. “Yes! It was a wild ride from cover to cover. I have my own copy at home, but I am getting this one for a friend.”

“Oh my God! Then, have you read Going into the Lamp? Oh my God, when she drowns her sister! I don’t know why she thought it was a good idea to include that in the book!”

Namjoon just looks at you with his eyes slightly widened. “I… I’m actually reading it now… I didn’t reach that part, yet.”

You accidently spoiled the book for him. “I’m SO sorry. First, I bump into you, and now I’m giving out spoilers you didn’t ask for. Please, forgive me,” you drawl with your head down.

He tuts and you want to crawl into a hole and hide. “What am I going to do with you? You’re so bad… Tell you what, have lunch with me and I’ll forgive you…”

What?!

You snap your head to look at his face and see mischief in his eyes. You decide to play along. “Sigh, I guess that’s the least I can do.” Fuck work. You are not passing up the opportunity to eat with your earthly god.

You pay for your book quickly and meet him by the door.

“Where do you want to eat?” You ask.

“I’m actually not familiar with this area. You tell me what’s good.”

He likes Korean food, meat to be particular. You should know this after watching every interview that includes in about twenty times over. There’s a little restaurant just a few blocks from there that you know he would love. You often had lunch there thinking about how much he would love it.

You spoke about books and theories about them on your way to the restaurant, feet falling into step together, but getting out of sync once in a while due to his long legs.

It was so natural. Sometimes, you forget that he was a normal human being.

The scent as you approach the building has your stomach growling and you do not miss the way his pupils dilate when he smells it too. In there was quiet and not crowded, as usual. It sucks for the owners, but that’s why you love this place. It was often empty. Honestly, if not for their deliveries, they would be out of business. You both go to the counter and order. It takes a while since this was his first time there. Your card is in your hand the entire time he speaks, but when he finishes, he gives them his card.

“Wait! I thought this was me apologizing, that I was buying you lunch.” You hold onto his card to stop the server from taking it. Three people were now grabbing onto it and looking at each other in confusion. You offer your card that was in your next hand and the server looks at Namjoon for permission, as if she wasn’t listening to you. He shakes his head.

“I only wanted company. I planned on eating alone,” you further your argument. “At least let me pay half.”

Someone coughs behind you. There are about two other people waiting their turn, looking angrily at the two of you. He takes the opportunity of you being distracted to give his card to the cashier again.

Because you were holding up the line, you just let him win.

Namjoon grabs a seat in the corner, facing away from the windows and door. He makes sure his hoodie is secure over his head as he huddles into himself. You realise he is doing this to avoid being caught.

Caught!

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He can get in trouble for this! It finally dawns on you that it looks like you’re on a date. Who do you think you are to even sit across his excellence? It would not be fair to the rest of his stans.

But, its not like you’re like other girls. You don’t want him just because he’s cute. No, your bond is much stronger than any other. You would take care of him. Heal him.

You don’t deserve a Namjoon, but he deserves a you.

You worship him.

Imagine the headlines if Dispatch sees this. Finally, everyone will know for good that Namjoon is yours. You wouldn’t mind if the world found out and misinterpreted the scene.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by food being placed in front of you. Namjoon pulls down his mask to his chin, but his face was still obscured by his bangs.

How long were you sitting across from him imagining these crazy things? You say an expletive in your heart and play it off. “Uwaah, no matter how many times I come here, I’m still amazed by the food. I promise you will love it. I’ve been eating here ever since I started working in this area.”

“It looks great.” He takes a tentative bite into the beef. His eyes light up and a sense of pride washes over you. You knew your man. His shoulders move into a little dance absentmindedly.

You’re endeared by his actions so you sit and admire him eating. Namjoon stops when he realizes how quiet you’re being. He coughs to clear his throat. “So…” he ventures embarrassed. “What made you get into Psychological fiction?”

“I always loved reading. I guess I just realized I liked reading these books more. I think Kafka was the pivot that made me go deeper.”

“It’s the same for me actually.” Namjoon went on to explain how he started reading about psychology, which led to a conversation about both of your favourite authors, reads, stores, forums, clubs, etc. The food was long gone but the refill of their beers are full.

You practically scream at the story he tells where a friend of his thought he was reading erotic novellas the entire time. “It was really so embarrassing. We were in public and really said, ‘don’t you read about romance and sex all the time. Tell me what I should do to be more sensitive.’ I wanted to die on the spot.” He slumps further into his seat to express this, but he is smiling brightly looking at you laugh so hard it looked painful.

“Hey, I never got your name,” he points out mid-chuckle. “I don’t think I asked before, but I’m K-“

“Kim Namjoon,” you finish his introduction for him for him. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit here and act like I didn’t recognize you. I’m army and I know my bias from his voice. Also, I’m ____.” You look up at him worriedly. Its true. You didn’t have it in you to lie by letting him introduce himself.

Namjoon is caught off guard and goes red. “You’re lying about me being your bias I’m sure. You don’t have to do that,” he flusters.

You open a compartment of your phone case revealing his photocard, “I keep it there to look at whenever I feel unmotivated or insignificant. Your words during lives really helped me with my anxiety. I even watch videos of you at the end of concerts to hear what you have to say. It really pumps me up,” you express with your body.

This shocks him visibly. “Don’t look at me like I’m lying. You really helped me a lot when I was trying to study for college entrance exams, and when I failed and found that I didn’t make it to my top, and only, choice. I didn’t apply anywhere else and decided to work part time and follow my dreams, like you sort of did.”

“Either way, I’m glad BTS could have done that for you.”

“Me too. My parents were hella mad, especially since they thought I should have been a doctor or lawyer just because I got good grades in high school. I don’t care too much about what they think, though. Most great people’s parents didn’t approve what they did. I mean, look at Pip from Great Expectations.”

“I don’t think there is one single happy person out there who does what their parents wanted them to,” Namjoon agrees.

“Like in the great words of Aristo-“ you begin, but get cut off by a loud ringing in your pocket. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you whisper as you scramble to answer it.

Embarrassingly enough, it was your boss and you were sure that Namjoon could hear what is being screamed at you even though your phone was not on speaker. He looks at you in wonder as you try to explain to her that you will be coming soon and how you were running late. A particular jab concerning your coworker’s incompetence to handle yours and her own work, especially when you couldn’t handle your own station, has Namjoon railing over in laughter.

“Yes, ma’am. I will be there in a few minutes! I’m sorry ag-“ the dial tone sounds before you can even finish your sentence. Dejected, you could not help the pout as you lift your eyes to take your one last good look at your obsession. “I’m sorry, Joon, I was only supposed to stop to the bookstore for five minutes. I had work after.”

“Do what you have to do.” He looks at you sympathetically. “You’re such a bad girl. This would make you,” he checks his watch beneath his hoodie, “an entire hour late.”

You both get up to clear the table. “Thank you for lunch again.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” he retorts.

You walk outside the store together, but had to walk opposite directions. This is when Namjoon realises that he wont ever see her again. Unless…

He spins around and grabs you wrist. “Um…” He can’t speak with her looking at him like that. “Can I… have your number?”

He spoke so quietly, you wonder if you have heard correctly, or if it was the wind playing tricks on you. His hand is surely on yours, and he is certainly looking at you, but you still are in a rush.

Grabbing a napkin and pen from your pocket, you quickly jot your name and number down. “Hey, you can just put it in my phone.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, I’m in a rush and I do not want to mess this up.” You always make such terrible typos on the regular. You don’t trust yourself to input the correct the number when youre filled with adrenaline. You shove the napkin to his chest which he grabs for. “I’ll talk to you later,” you ask, unsure. Not waiting for his response, you begin to sprint into the direction of your job.

Namjoon stood there staring after you for a few heavy heart beats. You were perfect. From the arch of your brow as you hung onto every word he enunciated to the sloppily tied tennis on your feet that did not shaking once during your conversation.

He holds the number out to admire your handwriting. It was so neat, cute even. He brings the napkin up to his nose to see if he can smell even a little of you on it. Of course, with his mask on, he was not able to smell much of everything. As he pulls it down to appreciate the napkin more, a white van that had passed him rather quickly slammed brakes and was now reversing towards him.

He scanned the area and notices someone just across the street from him filing him with a smartphone.

His identity is well hidden today. So he does not feel threatened by the filming. He is afraid of the man coming out of the van with a huge, high tech camera.

He shoves the napkin he cherished so ardently before in his back pocket and makes a run for it.

Or so he thinks.

The napkin flutters to the ground slowly, heavily contrasting the speed that Namjoon ran away.

Later that evening, he rummages through his clothes. He strips to his boxers, standing in the middle of his apartment with a blank stare. Your number is nowhere to be found. He had no way to speak to you. His last interaction with you will have been his last interaction with you.

Tears fall down his cheeks proudly when he realizes this.

He takes a few deep breaths. This is not over.

You mentioned that you worked in the area. He will just have to go back there and look for you.

You wore a black golf shirt, leggings, vans, a black sports bra (from what he can tell by the print through your top), probably a thong (since there were no pantylines shown as you walked), and…

And…

His erection stood proudly looking up at him.

He let his mind get carried away thinking about you. Trying to focus again, he fights through his memories to figure out which store’s workers wore black shirts with no logos or crests.

Nowhere.

That’s it – nowhere he’s been. Meaning it’s a store he had no purpose for, and judging the direction in which you ran, it had to have been that local shop. Namjoon searched Google maps street view for a few minutes before he finds the only place that can be where you worked.

He smiles proudly. All was not lost.

Fucking creep! Stop following me! Namjoon’s ex’s voice rang through his head.

“Will it be creepy if I show up on her job? She never told me where she worked…” he thinks aloud to himself.

Namjoon opens his phone again, but this time to find your work phone number. He calls the number provided, but since it was 10:34pm, he can assume that the small tailor shop was closed.

Tomorrow.

A/n:

I hope there weren’t too many mistakes! I originally made an outline for this months ago as a joke, but as I wrote it, I realised that it was kinda deep lol. satirical even.

Also, fics are so hard to find on tumblr, but I feel like theyre so good here! I use ao3 to search for authors and follow their tumblr if they have one. I think I’m gonna start cross publishing. 

[voiceracha]

voices | chapter one

a stray kids thriller au

genre: crime, thriller, angst

warnings: violence, mature themes & language

voices masterlist

watch the trailer here

01 | MURDER AT MIROH CAMPUS

word count: 1.6k

Wednesday, 17 June – Two weeks before

Mornings were always chilly and serene at Miroh University. The campus was large and commodious enough to hold its own little town, building a community amongst the students and staffs as if they were one big family.

There were rows of shops and cafés just on the outskirts of the campus—old fashioned with intricate designs contrasting the modern architecture of the main academic buildings. As it was a weekday, students were out and about whether on foot or on bicycles, getting to and from classes in different parts of the place. Those who were having a free time, however, could usually be found in the cafés and restaurants surrounding the area.

Inside one rather small café, with calming ambience and the pungent aroma of espresso, several students resided at round tables for two and four, either alone or with a peer. The television became background noise, hanging in one corner of the café near the entrance where everyone could see it. On one side of the place were multiple bookshelves holding a myriad of books ranging from fiction to nonfiction.

It worked as both a bookstore and a library, as one could buy the books or simply borrow it to read as they drink coffee. Some students sat there to study, and some found their escape between the shelves, reading comic books and manga during their free hours as they took breaks from the real world.

For Seo Changbin, it was his workplace.

The literature student stood behind the counter, waiting for a woman to make their payment for three thick, postgraduate physics textbooks. He smiled at her as he received the money and waved when she turned to walk out the door. The bell jingled after her, and the door closed without a sound.

Being the son of the owner, he chose to work a couple shifts at the café when he had no classes. The café was his father’s inheritance from his grandparents, and he didn’t mind managing it while his parents worked. There were two other employees, but since they currently had classes, Changbin remained alone behind the coffee machine on Wednesday mornings.

His degree course required a lot of reading, analyzing, and writing, and he could do all that from behind the counter when there were no customers to attend to. Sure, he could easily do all three at home, but he liked having the smell of coffee and the white noise of insignificant conversations floating around him as he read a dreadful Charles Dickens novel. Sometimes he wanted to hit himself in the head for choosing to study modules such as Victorian literature. What was he thinking?

Changbin sighed before going back to making coffee for himself as there were no new customers. It was 9:56 a.m., and the ones present in the café looked well occupied enough, immersed in their reading or speaking in low volumes to their friends. One of them, though, was thoroughly studying and typing away at their laptop at a table close to the counter.

Of course, it was law student Lee Minho.

For him, Changbin’s café “Streetlight” was like a second home. The table near the counter was his table, and he could always be found studying or resting there if he wasn’t out with his beloved boyfriend. It was a rare sight, seeing him without the other boy around, but they were both their own individuals who studied different things—they needed their own time and space to get work done.

“Binnie, can I have another latte please?” Minho asked, briefly looking up at Changbin who was about to pick up a novel from his stool.

“One latte coming right up.”

Changbin took a cup from beneath the counter and began making it when the news came on at ten o’clock sharp. He glanced at the TV every once in a while as he prepared Minho’s latte, just in case something important came up.

“Breaking news for the people of Miroh Campus: the murderer strikes again,” said the reporter, a man no older than twenty-five. He stood at what could clearly be seen as Pace Park, surrounding the manmade lake in front of the main building of the university. “Two bodies identified as Choi Hwa Sung and Park See Hyun were found here at the Pace Park jogging track this morning, believed to have been victims of a homicide incident last night.”

Hearing the gasps of the customers, Changbin placed Minho’s cup aside and turned the volume of the TV up for them to hear better. As the reporter continued speaking, he took the latte and brought it to his friend’s table, placing it beside his previous cup and taking a seat across from him.

“Police have arrived at the scene and the ongoing investigation will be carried out by the finest detectives of Bay 8. Sources of death have not been confirmed, but it is believed that the victims were violently beaten up to death, despite no weapons being found on the scene.”

Minho whisteled lowly as he turned away from the screen, instantly picking up his cup of hot latte and taking small sips of it.

“Who do you think did all that?”

Changbin shrugged, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown as he met his friend’s eyes.

“Honestly? I have no clue. It’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad ones these days, and the killer could be walking among us without us noticing at all.”

“Well, whoever it may be, this clearly isn’t the first time.”

Just then, the bell jingled above the main entrance and in came Hyunjin, dressed in matching black sportswear. His skin glistened with sweat, and he used the small towel around his neck to dry it.

“Look who it is,” Changbin grinned while his best friend made his way towards their table. “Where were you? It’s already ten.”

Hyunjin pulled a chair from the next vacant table and sat down between the two.

“Running, duh? Where else would I be?”

“Bro, you stink,” Minho pinched his nose dramatically.

Hyunjin only made a funny face at him in reply, sticking out his tongue. He wiped his face with the small towel while the TV behind him switched from the news to a detergent advertisement that no one cared about, so Changbin used the remote to decrease the volume once more.

“So, who do you think the murderer could be?” asked Changbin.

Neither of them noticed, but Hyunjin almost choked on his own spit and stopped his movements abruptly as soon as the words left his friend’s mouth. He felt his heart hammering in his rib cage, the sudden urge to throw up building at the back of his throat and clawing at his skin.

“Murderer?” he replied slowly, his voice barely audible. The look of confusion on his face only made Minho and Changbin chuckle, which he received with a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god, you’re clueless!” said Minho, slapping his right arm lightly. “They just informed on the news that there’s two dead bodies found at the park, where you always run at, and you don’t even know.”

“He only cares about running, Minho. He even forgot he’s supposed to meet us here forty minutes ago. Now we gotta push our meeting to another time.”

Hyunjin didn’t know why his friends sounded so calm when the news of two students being found dead just dropped on them, but he gulped and tried to put on his best nonchalant tone anyway, smiling smugly at his friends.

“Please, I’d rather run until my lungs give out then sit here and hear you two discuss your conspiracy theories.”

Changbin stood up, Minho’s previous cup of latte—now empty—in one hand.

“They’re not conspiracy theories,” he said, defensive. “They’re actual crime cases that Minho studies and I’m interested, okay?”

“Then why the hell do you need me here?” asked Hyunjin. “I’m not interested in that.”

“You’re here because you’re my best friend and I need you to back up my points against this lawyer wannabe.”

“Aw…” Minho smirked, lightly punching Hyunjin’s arm in a teasing manner. “Changbin and Hyunjin sitting in a tree—”

“You better shut the fuck up,” Changbin pointed at the older man from behind the counter, his eyes shooting daggers at the latter who was laughing in his seat.

Minho’s phone rang right then, and he excused himself to answer it.

“Must be the love of his life,” Hyunjin teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Minho.

“Shut up,” he whispered before holding his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

When he was done talking twenty seconds later, he ended the call and began gathering his books, placing them in his backpack.

“Let me guess, Master Han Jisung awaits?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“You know he’s gonna whoop your ass if he knows you call him that, right?”

“Not if I whoop his ass first.”

“Well, tell him I said hi,” Hyunjin said, pulling Minho’s latte towards himself since the man didn’t look like he’s gonna take it with him.

Minho nodded, “Will do. He needs help with his photography assignment on the other side of campus, and also, I’m a great model so...”

The two friends made gagging noises at him as he laughed, and they waved goodbye until Minho walked out the door, making his way towards his motorbike.

“Okay, that reminds me,” Hyunjin started whilst standing up, “I need to meet Felix and discuss about our short film, so I’ll see you later?”

Changbin pouted for a second before sighing.

“Fine, see you later. And you’re paying for Minho’s latte.”

Hyunjin groaned and gave Changbin the money while the latter laughed at him.

After giving his best friend a quick hug, Hyunjin took one step out the door, and his smile disappeared with it.

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

[hydra-collector]

I’m Not Okay

AO3

Pairings: Analogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders (minor character), Roman Sanders (minor character)

TW: self-harm, referenced homophobia, panic attacks

Words: 1738

Summary: Virgil comes to terms with his depression. High school AU.

Note: God, is it going to be a relief not having to add links to every single chapter.

The first day was fine.

Virgil was slightly off. It was barely noticeable.

“Virgil!”

“Hey, Pat.”

“How’re ya doing?”

“I’m…”

He wasn’t good. But it wasn’t bad. Just a wrong kind of day. Wrong days are normal, he’d had them before. This one was different, though. School had been let out, things should be better than usual.

“Pretty good.”

The second day he felt worse. Slightly. He couldn’t tell, but he did. He remarked to himself how odd two bad days in a row were, it was unusual. No reason to get worried, though, he already had enough of that.

The third day was annoying. Three off days in a row was irritating. Of course, it was bound to happen once in his life.

The fourth day he was slightly scared. This doesn’t happen often. But he didn’t feel that bad, it was probably fine. He’d just wait until tomorrow.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh days weren’t any better. It would be fine, though, people have a rough week sometimes.

The next week it happened again. He was unhappier than before. He was more irritable towards his friends and family, annoyed that it had kept going on. The week after that, he was getting more apathetic to it. The week after that he was frustrated again.

And so, the day had turned into a month.

He was a little scared. People get bad months, but he didn’t like it. It was normal, though. It happens. Next month will be good.

It wasn’t.

“Virgil, are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, L.”

“You seem less attentive than usual.”

He claimed he was more stressed out, but there was no reason to be. His friends were around more, school was relatively easy, he had good, supportive teachers to help with his anxiety. But the month was worse than last. He was slightly sadder. It was fine, though, this was normal. This was okay.

The next month it happened again. Weeks got worse as the month progressed, but it was easy to ignore. He blamed it on school. Anyway, if he talked to his friends for a while he was just as happy as usual.

The next month was his crying month. The feeling was harder to avoid, and it was affecting him. It was harder to talk to people, harder to get things done, harder to calm down from panic attacks. It was frustrating.

“Roman, I can calm down by myself.”

“You’re not- I mean, I think I could help.”

“It’s fine, it- it was just a test.”

Virgil was shaking and hyperventilating. How could he have failed the test? Well, quiz. But he studied and studied and studied, what did he do wrong? God, he did need Roman here, didn’t he?

“It doesn’t seem that way to you, emo.”

“I’m fine, just go away.”

Roman offered him a hug before he left, which did make him feel a bit better.

But you failed.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move properly, he needed to relax, he was going to die-

The month after that, the fifth month, he noticed it daily. It didn’t help that a crush was eating away at his anxiety.

The sixth month he claimed he was helping himself, if intentionally triggering panic attacks is what you would call helping yourself. He used that pain to cope. He wanted more of it. He wouldn’t say that, though. He said this was fine. People have a bad couple of months sometimes. He’d started dating Logan as well, which was making him happier, but at the same time he didn’t want to be happy. Torturing himself was the answer.

“Scientists say climate change will affect more than the weather….”

“Two people murdered just south of the school, authorities investigating…”

“We don’t need queer representation to turn our kids gay!”

The next month got worse. He wanted this pain to be seen. He wanted it to show up on his skin. At first it was a bruise.

The next month it was a scratch. From pins and needles, nails, pencils, anything. This wasn’t self-harm, it was just coping. Not coping, he’s not depressed. It was just… an alternative. To feeling like he did.

The next month he drew blood. The first time, he’d dug his nails so deep into his skin and it bled and it was beautiful. He spent the rest of the day just looking at it when he could. He tried with the pins and it worked. He’d scratch and scratch until it was finally red.

The tenth month he gave in. It was slight and shallow, but he’d done it. Stolen his mother’s razor, just to bleed a little. It was so much easier.

The eleventh month he was doing it all the time. Logan was worried about him, with more frequent panic attacks and moments where he did nothing but lean against his boyfriend silently.

“You haven’t said anything all day, Virgil. Is something going on?”

“Nah.”

“If there is, I can offer my help-”

“I’m fine.”

He was.

It wasn’t self-harm, it wasn’t depression. It weighed on him so much but it wasn’t hurting him. It didn’t mean anything. He was fine. He was okay.

The twelfth month, it happened.

Virgil always wore his hoodie, no matter what time of year. He used to be able to take it off if he wanted, but not anymore. He couldn’t worry anyone. Even if they likely didn’t care.

It was a hot, miserable day. Reaching ninety degrees, Logan had reason to worry about his boyfriend.

“Virgil, I suggest you take that off.”

“I’m okay. I’m not that hot.”

“I’m not sure how that’s possible. It’s ninety degrees.”

Virgil only shrugged.

During lunch, he fell asleep on Logan, who was reading from some nonfiction book. He was sweating profusely, and obviously very hot. Logan took his chance to roll up his sleeves, at the very least.

Virgil woke up.

He panicked and pulled away from Logan before he could roll them up very much, but he’d seen what he needed to already.

“Why did you-”

“Virgil, you were going to overheat. You still are. I’m sorry I did that, but I’m scared for your well-being.”

He began breathing heavily, his entire body shaking and more heat emanating off of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Virgil, it’s okay. Why don’t we go somewhere where it’ll be easier to calm down?”

Virgil couldn’t be with him right now. Not after what he’d seen.

But he was so damn hot.

He wobbled as he got up, only just realizing how dizzy he was from both the heat and the hyperventilation. He was shaking and it was only getting hotter and he wanted to take his hoodie off. But he couldn’t.

Logan led them to the empty bathroom, closing the door and setting up a chair to prevent anyone from coming in.

“Virgil, can you please breathe for me? In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.”

Virgil did so, though trying to stay further away from Logan than he usually would have. The bathroom was slightly cooler, at least, as there weren’t bodies of teenagers there. He tried to divert his thoughts away from his arms and towards his breathing.

After a while, he’d calmed down. It would have been easier if he’d given Logan a hug, but it was too hot. Too damn hot.

“I need to ask you to take your hoodie off.”

He could have had another panic attack, but subdued it by digging his nails into his hands. Pain was always there to help him.

“I- I’m fine.”

“Please, Virgil. You’re going to overheat and… I want to help you.”

His heart beat too fast.

“No, Logan, I swear I’m okay-”

“Virgil, you’re still sweating. You’re too hot.”

“I’m not-”

“Please. Besides the heat, just please let me help you.”

“I- I don’t need help, Logan.”

“I don’t mean to upset you, but you really, really do. I love you, Virgil. I want you to be happy.”

“I can’t let you be unhappy! I’m going to hurt you!”

“It only hurts me being unable to help you. I can’t help you if you won’t let me. You’ll always make me happy. I’ll always love you and love being with you. I hate seeing you in pain, but it hurts me more for you to be alone in this. I hoped you were doing better than I thought, but you aren’t. I want you to be happy. You make me happy, no matter how you feel. I will love you anyway.”

“So please, Virgil. Please take off your sweater.”

“I-”

He sobbed quietly, the static that was sending him into panic clearing up. He extended his arms to Logan, nodding through his tears, letting him pull the hoodie over his head. The moment he was free, he was so relieved.

He collapsed into the chair holding the door closed, laying his arms out on his legs.

“I have First Aid.”

Virgil whispered a quiet “okay” as he stood up again, still shaking. The cold water Logan rinsed over his arms felt refreshing. The sweat that had seeped into his cuts was washed away, leaving only blood and scars. Logan put on a very thin layer of gauze, trying to avoid overheating again.

“I’m sorry I do this, Logan.”

“I apologize that there isn’t more I can do to help.”

“I’d take a hug.”

He made it fairly loose and short, replacing a tighter, more comforting hug. He kissed Virgil’s cheek to make up for it.

“Do you have a therapist?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Have you told them?”

“No,” he looked away from Logan, “it’s probably fine, anyway.”

Logan cupped Virgil’s face, looking him in the eyes.

“It’s not.”

“It- it really doesn’t matter.”

“You’re hurting, Virgil.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not. I want you to realize that. This isn’t healthy, this isn’t okay.”

“I’m- it’s-”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you repeat after me?”

“O-okay.”

“I’m not okay.”

“I’m… not okay.”

“And that’s okay.”

“And that’s okay.”

“You aren’t okay, love. Not at all. So many people struggle like you do, and I wish you didn’t have to, but you do. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to want this. But please realize, being that way all the time isn’t okay, isn’t healthy. You don’t need to feel like this. You’re not okay. And that’s okay.”

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) Pt 10

So. The last couple weeks have been...A Lot. Both personally and y’know from an entire racial equity uprising perspective, and I’ve felt very much that my responsibility was to read, learn, understand, listen, and be quiet. No one needs to hear a white girl writing about white nerd boy problems right now. But I realized after a couple weeks that when I got overwhelmed, or when I needed to relieve the pressure valve on my emotions, I turned to the same form of comfort I always have - stories. Stories about characters I love, whether they’re in tv, movies, fic, whatever. The comfort of those stories allowed me to rest just enough that I could wake up the next day and keep reading, learning, listening. So it may seem silly, this meandering tale of these two flawed men confronting the past and the future together, but reading stories like this helps me feel sane enough that I have the energy to keep trying to do better. I hope this one helps you, too. Catch up on previous entries here, and come say hi in my inbox and let me know what you think.

***

After lunch, they head 1 mile east until they reach an unremarkable long, squat building with a faded green roof hanging down nearly halfway to the ground and obscuring the store front, held up by a series of flared white cinderblock columns. This elongated hut takes up the better part of a city block, and as they pull into the cracked parking lot, Richard spies Jared’s face lighting up as he reads the sign.

“Gardner’s Used Books, CDs, Videos, DVDs, Toys, Comics, Records, Collectibles, Gifts...my goodness, that’s quite a treasure trove!” 

“You have no idea,” Richard says, bounding out of the car and up to the front door in quick strides. The tables set up under the roof’s overhang hold boxes and boxes of books, lining the entire front of the building, but Richard doesn’t stop to look at these. “Bargain books,” he explains as Jared pauses to scan some of the titles. “You find some great stuff, but you can pay outside so I usually do that last.” He points to an old Folgers coffee jug with a slit cut in its plastic lid. A sign above it says 50 CENTS OR 3/$1, but Richard’s attention is now focused on entering the front door, the familiar jingle causing a rush of nostalgia that works its way into his guts. 

He’s 16 again, acne-riddled and knock-kneed, and his new driver’s license is burning a hole in his velcro wallet. The dusty scent of old paper and ancient carpeting is commingling with the aroma of hot oil, onions, and sizzling meat from the bookstore’s attached Mexican restaurant. He has $37 in his pocket, and a whole day of summer vacation to burn. 

As present-day Richard takes in the familiar organized chaos, Jared nearly walks into a gargantuan statue of the Hulk because he’s looking around at the stacks of books piled everywhere, muttering a sheepish, “Excuse me!” to the statue. A bubble of warmth seems to rise from deep within Richard’s belly, and he grabs at Jared’s wrist to redirect him - that thin, elegant wrist, so delicate, almost like a bird, maybe that’s why Jared likes birds so much, because he feels a kinship with them? - and tugs gently. “C’mon. I wanna show you around.”

Richard leads them to the left, past rows and rows of new arrivals and fiction. A coffee shop has been added on; all the decor is aggressively Parisian in a very bland Hobby Lobby-type way. There are wire shelves hanging off the walls holding the top 20 best selling mysteries of all time. Tall wooden shelves in the middle of the room stretch from floor to ceiling, arranged in small mazes that take up their respective corners, crammed with colorful paperbacks. Jared pauses at the Mary Higgins Clarks for a moment, but Richard urges him on by saying, “Wait, there’s more!” 

Another archway, this one opening up into a cavernous beige room with a little more natural light. Small rolling footstools are perched in every aisle so customers can reach the tops of the towering shelves, and with each new shelf, Jared’s eyes seem to grow wider. “Does it just go on forever?” he asks, and Richard nods, steering him past Romance and Horror to the seemingly endless Nonfiction shelves. Cookbooks, humor, foreign language - the section names are taped to wooden beams that extend between the tops of the rows of bookshelves until finally they reach the Computer Science section, which Richard presents with a grand flourish. 

“This is where I got my very first coding manual. Python, it was--” he scans the shelves, squints, but, “oh, um well they don’t have it now. Duh, why would they, that was, anyway, this is where it all started!”

Jared takes in the shelves with a look of absolute wonder lighting up his face. He looks young and carefree in a way Richard isn’t sure he’s ever seen before, like he’s about to burst into song in a musical or something. Before he can say anything, Jared has his phone out, the sound of the camera shutter in his face making Richard jump. “Aw, c’mon Jared, don’t,” he says, but his voice is teasing, soft, and there’s a pleasant whispering at the back of his mind at the idea of this place meaning something to history maybe. Where the first seeds of Pied Piper took hold, and the genius coder Richard Hendricks took his first step toward...toward having everything taken away from him by Hooli and Gavin Fucking Belson. His insides are suddenly doused in ice-cold water and he shakes his head, scowling. 

He’s just about to tell Jared to browse by himself for awhile when he’s stopped short by Jared gasping loudly, “Oh my goodness!”

He’s turned to look at the shelf opposite the Computer Science section and is now holding a light green cloth-bound book in his hands as if it were something made of exquisite, delicate glass. The cover has what looks like colored pencil drawings of two yellow birds sitting together on some branches, and Richard leans closer to read the title out loud - “Birds That Every Child Should Know. By,” he pauses, looking up at Jared for confirmation, “Nelt-yah Blanchan?” 

Jared nods, dumbstruck. He looks positively bowled over, and all thoughts of Gavin have fled Richard’s mind completely because he wants to know what could possibly have made Jared so flabbergasted. “So...what is this book? I mean, why’s it - what’s so special about it? Is it rare or something?”

“It is rare, yes; this book was published in 1907. But, that’s not exactly...” he swallows, then looks at Richard with those terrifyingly blue eyes, the ones that root Richard to the spot and peer inside him and refuse to let him squirm away. “My mother had a copy exactly like this. We would go birding together, you see. Just in the woods behind our apartment complex, nothing too exotic. I would spot robins, orioles, blue jays, but ah - “ his smile grows shaky, like it’s trying unsuccessfully to hold up the weight of all those memories, and he says, “I just never thought I’d see this book again, that’s all.”

“Wow,” Richard says, his upper lip caught in his teeth at his own awkwardness. He never knows what to say when Jared mentions his past. Real helpful, Richard, Jesus fuck. “You should um, you should definitely buy it. Right?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly afford, it’s an antique--”

“Jared, come on. You have to. It’s - look, I’ll buy it for you, ok? As like. A thank you present. For coming with me. You have to deal with my parents, deal with me, and it’s just...it’s the least I can do.”

Jared splays one enormous hand over his chest, aghast. “Richard, you don’t have to--”

“Bup bup bup!” Richard says, easing the book out of Jared’s grip and peeking inside the front cover at the price. $26 is penciled in the top right corner of the title page, which seems more than fair for how happy Jared is to have discovered it, so he snaps the book shut and tucks it under his arm to carry. “Done and done. No arguments, Jared. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jared says quietly, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining, looking at Richard like he’s some sort of miracle, some unexpected wondrous hero, come to slay dragons and save the kingdom from wreck and ruin. It takes longer than strictly necessary for Richard to wrench his gaze away. 

“Come on, there’s a lot more of this place to see.”