#my writing never disappoints! (i contemplated for about three hours before posting that)

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hellooo. Can I request for xiao x female reader? xiao fall in love with a normal girl who is Zhongli friend (they always have a some tea time together) and whenever she going to wangshu inn, she never forget to give some offering (almond tofu) for xiao, even though she never see him.

tysm ♥️

Finally, a request that's not Albedo-//shot//

Mah main boy Xiao yeeeeess, and as a simp I shall give this a full blown fic because I love him that much (that and you didn't specify what type to write hehe) I hope you enjoy my first fic of this precious bb yywyy

*I actually misinterpreted this ask and thought it would be about not seeing him yet still he ends up falling in love and I’m- I hope I did it justice ahahahaha

Reverie with the Wind

Xiao silently falling in love with a normal Female!Reader

Rex Lapis surrounds himself with pleasant people.

This is what Xiao observed in the centuries that he'd served him. Despite being the God of War, despite the wrath he brings upon those who breaks contracts, he manages to draw in those with an aura of pleasantries around them.

This belief was almost broken when Xiao found out about Childe but the way the Geo archon explained his character, the adepti realized that maybe, just maybe there’s more to the Harbinger that he wasn't aware of. So he gave him the benefit of the doubt, with a polearm ready at his side just in case.

The first time Xiao saw you was when Rex Lapis, as Zhongli, made his rare visits to Wangshu Inn during a Sunday morning. The weather was pleasant paired with the nice and fresh breeze that passes by the serene location usually. He felt the archon’s presence almost immediately when he’d step foot on the reception floor.

He was internally ecstatic and curious as to the man’s visitation as he peaked over the railings at the top floor and that was the moment he realized that besides Zhongli there was someone else tagging along for the visit.

The adepti is disappointed it’s not someone he knows so this could mean that you were a new person that the archon somehow managed to pull into his ragtag of a friend circle. There wasn’t anything unusual or... unique to you, the more Xiao analyzed. Not even a Vision. Just a normal denizen that walks through the lands of Liyue. And that sense of normalcy might just be the part that intrigued him the most about you. A normal human standing next to a literal God.

A part of him felt it scandalous to eavesdrop like this: hiding on the top of the roof away from anyone’s eyes as he watches you and Zhongli watch the scenery of Dihua Marsh from the balcony he usually hangs around. This wasn’t one of the archon’s monthly adeptus visits but a tour to Liyue’s beautiful landmarks for his new companion.

“I think he might just be out, we shouldn’t bother him without telling him beforehand, Zhongli.” Your voice was whisked with the breeze and carried it up to his ears. It was soft, modest. Xiao hums to himself. They were talking about him. “If he doesn’t want to be bothered, I’m okay with it, really.”

Zhongli would hum in contemplation as he tilts his head to the side where the building looms over them, looking as if he’d made eye contact with Xiao as he holds his chin. “Out, you say. I guess you make a point, maybe another time would suffice.”

Another hour passes and Xiao had come to realize that you two were meaning to stay from your conversation. Zhongli had brought you over to Wangshu Inn as a recommendation for accommodation and the scenic view it gives was enough to convince you to take the shot.

The rest of the day Xiao found himself doing nothing but to linger. He wasn’t trapped just because you and Zhongli continued hanging by the balcony, ordering tea at one point as you continued to converse long dialogues about anything and everything, no. Xiao closes his eyes as he lays back on the roof when you’d laughed about Zhongli’s stupidity to not prepare a private fund before giving up his gnosis.

There’s no sense of urgency between you three, no threats to take care of, no duties to work on.

It’s pure coincidence that there was no trouble stirring that day, but it amped up the relaxing atmosphere he had felt.

Moments after you left to finally sleep, Zhongli found himself in the company of his adepti next to him, both staring longingly into the distance in comfortable silence. Even if they were known friends from long ago, usually there’s a strain on Xiao’s shoulder that forces him to stand straight in attention under his presence. In attention and high alert for anything his archon needs. But that’s all long gone for just this moment.

“Why hadn’t you come and join us for tea? I assure you she’s nothing but a threat nor nuisance. You’ve been lingering behind in the duration of our talk, it would have been fine if you were to just be there and properly meet her.”

Why didn’t he appear? “She’s a normal mortal, sir. Who knows what would happen if she were to spend just a second in proximity of adeptal energy.”

“I see. But you need not worry about such matters, Xiao, I wouldn’t willingly bring them here knowing it would possibly harm them.” Somehow Xiao already knew that was the case.

After that day, Xiao was hyper aware of your presence, your whereabouts, your voice.

The lightness in your steps as you bound up to the balcony with almond tofu.

The day Zhongli mentioned how this dish was used as offering to the adepti and that it was coincidentally his favorite food, you manage to bring the plate to him daily. Sometimes it’s from the Inn’s chef, sometimes it was your own creation, he would know the difference—

Yours is just a tad bit sweeter and the jelly was softer, almost bouncy. If normal almond tofu tasted like dreams, this was a good dream.

Somehow Xiao had ended up liking and yearning for your presence and antics but he still dared not pry enough to appear by you. He’s content watching over you, making sure you were safe, and ensuring that you keep your good vibe on. When Xiao ended up letting his mouth flow about this, Zhongli offered a smile and an approving nod, “They have that effect on people, I’m glad even you are cleansed like so.” With your company, somehow the thick wall between master and subordinate started thinning out in between them.

In this particular day, he felt melancholic and alone with his thoughts and memories. There were no threats to subdue and distract him, no orders (although this has ended the moment Rex Lapis became Zhongli), and no noisy kids playing around to fill in the silence.

He indulges the flute in his hand as he plays a tune from memory, the movement and wind through the instrument flows like clockwork. Around him the wind dances gracefully with the melody. Xiao too indulges himself with the serenity of it all as he finished his verse, softly gasping another breath to prepare for a new song—

A sudden high pitch note erupted from his flute when he heard the familiar jostle of a spoon against a ceramic plate.

“Oh! I’m sorry for interrupting, please continue,” your familiar voice filled with uncertainty flows over the overhang of the roof where the adepti rests on.

There was a beat of silence.

And the flute once again works it magic before you even placed your foot down to leave as to give him the privacy.

Unused to an audience, many thoughts ran through the adepti’s head as he continued to play. Distracted by the inner workings of his mind, he’d ended up playing for half an hour after that. He’d end his ministrations in a hum when he realized you were still lingering by with your back to the wall of the inn.

“That was really beautiful, thank you.” You whispered before opening your eyes, only to meet soft golden ones.

And you gasped, for it was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

And he gasped, for he’d realized you were much beautiful up close.

Xiao plays the flute and it's canon.

I believe in Xiao supremacy.

I have a bad habit of publishing works immediately right after writing them, I should space out my works. But, functioning post schedule whomst?

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Prologue) | Tom Holland

Summary ↠ There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years. Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR... fake dating au; enemies to lovers; actor!y/n.

Word count ↠ 4.6k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, paparazzi, swearing, discussions of misogyny and the corruption of fame, Tom and Y/N are both very petty, dramatic assholes.

A/N ↠ Ahhh it’s here! I was really shocked by how many people responded to the announcement post for the series -- I hope so much that this doesn’t disappoint anyone lol. This series is my baby, and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Before we dive into the fake dating, we must first explore a very critical evening for Tom and Y/N... hahahah. This was a lot of fun to write. Please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts! :D 

(Tom’s in the FFH premiere outfit because I’m still in love with that fit, and the jury’s out for whether or not the actual Tom needs glasses to see; this version of him just uses them as a fashion statement lmao)

((The biggest thank you ever to V, mischiefandi, for being this series’ no.1 supporter and proofing this -- love you mate))

Series masterpost

ZERO: The Oscars (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and as you throw back your third glass of champagne of the evening, you let a small smile unfurl across your lips. 

It isn’t your first time attending the Oscars, but it is the first time you haven’t felt utterly out of your depth surrounded by people of this calibre. When you’d first started in the acting industry, you’d found it incredibly unsettling to enter a room full of Oscar-winners. Even now you remember how your hands had felt slick with sweat as you’d nervously been introduced to Meryl Streep and Viola Davis, and how you’d felt imposter syndrome on a scale you’d never imagined possible. Time and experience have brought you many things, but most importantly, they have gifted you confidence. You’re 24 now, and the string of achievements and nominations tied to your belt is so impressive that they deem you no longer an outsider at the Oscars; instead, it’s as if you’ve been accepted into the fold. 

But for all the enjoyment of the lavish after-party, you can’t stop your mood from plummeting. It’s all fun and games until your eyes sweep the room and settle on a smirking figure standing in the corner: 

Tom Holland. 

Just the sight of him makes your nostrils flare. 

You think it must be true what they say: once you start to dislike someone, it’s as if every single thing they do irritates you. This is how you feel with Tom. Even the smallest, most insignificant details about him somehow manage to annoy you. You cannot stand the smell of his hair gel, and you detest the way he stubbornly refuses to mend his phone screen. Your teeth grit together every time you see that smug smirking grin hanging from his lips, and you get worked up by the way he always seems to swagger around as if he owns the room. The grievances fall into several categories: his aesthetic choices, his generally smug demeanour, and his irritating personality, and it all fosters your deep, unyielding disapproval of the man.

Tom infuriates you beyond belief - beyond words. And he’s standing across the room right now, staring at you over the rim of his wine glass with a teasing smirk hanging from his stupid lips. 

You try to ignore him at first. You lick your lips and return your attention to a conversation with some of your co-stars. You know better than to try and approach anyone else tonight. Your reputation, as your PR team likes to put it, is ‘fragile’ at the moment. A string of uncomplimentary ex-lovers and a few disgruntled directors have shattered your pristine public image, making you regarded as both a rising talent and loose cannon by the media. There’s been a common trend recently of news outlets dragging your name through the mud, and the desperate words of PR as they’d begged you not to cause a scene tonight drift through your mind as you contemplate wandering over to Tom. 

You know it isn’t in your best interests to engage with the man - no matter the occasion, your conversations always end explosively - but Tom is just standing there, staring at you persistently, and you just can’t help it.

Your tongue flicks out across your lower lip as you feel his hot gaze trailing around your made-up cheek. His eyes are intense - holding power over you, to the point where you have you excuse yourself from your conversation. An exasperated sigh slips past your lips as you turn around, preparing yourself for your encounter. Your stare finds him, and it follows Tom as he strides across the party towards you, one hand hanging easily from his trouser pocket as the other clasps an intricately engraved wine glass.

The frown on your lips deepens the nearer Tom gets, and as more details of his figure draw into focus. He’s got his chestnut waves slicked back tonight, with a few stray strands hanging out across his forehead. It makes him look dishevelled, but in a devilishly handsome sort of way - which makes sense, given you’re reasonably sure he must have some kind of relationship with Lucifer himself. Stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders is a deep burgundy suit, and it cages him in tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Your lips curl into a poisonous grimace as your eyes finally fall on the glasses perched on his nose; you’re sure Tom doesn’t even need glasses, and it riles you up to see him parading the frames as a fashion statement. 

But perhaps the thing about his ensemble that annoys you the most is the fact that you can’t look away. No matter how hard you beg yourself, you can’t drag your gaze away from Tom’s swagger, or the tight hold he has on the stem of the glass, or the way his eyes dance with a dark, mischievous glint as he falls to a stop in front of you. Tom is many things to you, but it’s undeniable that you find him attractive, and that fact often keeps you seething well into the early hours of the morning. 

“Y/N,” Tom greets, his voice dripping charm. “Lovely to see you again.” His thin pink lips twist up into a smirk, and you find yourself clenching your fingers into fists around the tender stem of your champagne flute.

“Tom.” You step forwards, and your lips catch at his cheek as you press a firm, unwavering greeting to his face. You feel his warm hand slip from his pocket, and it grazes across your hip as Tom holds you closer. “You look to be enjoying yourself.”

When you pull back, you linger near him, allowing Tom to return the gesture by pressing his hot mouth to your cheek. He smells of rich, overpowering cologne, and you scrunch your nose up as his lips burn against your skin.

“It’s quite the party tonight,” he returns, stepping back. Tom’s beady little brown eyes run across your figure, taking in the long designer gown and the decadent sparkly necklace hanging from your neck. He graces you with an approving nod. “Are you having a nice time?”

“I was.” You pause to take a long sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the bubbles pop against your tongue. You hope the alcohol will help to take the edge off the way your heart has started to pound against your ribs. “It’s a shame you had to come over here and ruin my mood.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me, love,” he says, “Thought maybe you had something you’d like to say to me.”

You feel a hot spike of irritation as his lips curve effortlessly around the word love. Tom has always been a fan of pet names. The ease in which they roll from his tongue in that smooth, accented voice never fails to charm the room, and though you like to think you’re immune to his allure, you can feel the word spinning around your head like a broken record.

“Not really,” you return coolly, maintaining your composure with the poise and precision of a seasoned actress. You even manage to flash him an apologetic smile. “No big award for you tonight, though? Must be heartbreaking.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Are you really still caught up on the BAFTA?” He asks, his voice lower and harder. 

The mood between you dips, and instinctively you find yourself moving away into a quieter corner of the room. As you drift away from the hordes of celebrities guzzling champagne, it’s as if the facade between you breaks down. Your smirk becomes harder, your eyes less forgiving - and in return, Tom’s smile sours into a grimace, and he holds himself straighter. The masks you wear come off, leaving you both bare and exposed. 

“No,” you respond darkly. You’re tucked away in the corner of the party, with your back almost against the wall as Tom lingers in front of you. Both of you have discarded your drinks glasses. “I couldn’t care less that you won the BAFTA, Tom. If the jury decided you were worthy, then you were worthy. I would have to be very unreasonable to disagree with the committee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Y/N.” Tom tilts his head to the side, flashing the tips of his shiny white teeth as his mouth loosens into a wild smile. 

“Fine.” You give him an excessive sigh, and you let your eyes drift towards his mouth. “I don’t buy it, Tom.”

Tom’s suit jacket breaks out into wrinkles as he crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t buy what?”

“This act.”

Tom almost rolls his eyes again. “And which act are you referring to, Y/N?”

“The Mr Nice Guy Act, Thomas.” The way he flexes his jaw makes you lean nearer and smirk. “Everyone here thinks you’re such a wonderful man, but I see right through it.”

It’s hard to know precisely when your feelings towards Tom became so hostile, but you like to pinpoint the night of the BAFTAs in 2017 as the day you surpassed the point of no return. You were younger then - both of you - and things quickly got out of hand. You know Tom likes to pinpoint your ‘jealousy’ following his win and your snub at the awards show as the catalyst for your tumultuous relationship, but both of you know that night was the product of several cumulative events.

Your best friend had worked with Tom’s mate Harrison, all those years ago in 2016. You knew Harrison through her, and you got on well enough with him, so when the BAFTA academy had nominated both you and Tom as contenders for Rising Star, Harrison had orchestrated an exchange of phone numbers. However, given your packed schedule and press engagements, you had failed to respond to all of Tom’s attempts to contact you. 

One thing led to another. Tom assumed you were dodging his texts and started bad-mouthing you to Harrison. Word travelled to you that this guy - the competition - was throwing shade to your name, and so you might have made a few choice remarks about him on Ellen and suggested that Tobey Maguire was the best Spider-Man. Whatever. It was all so petty and childish, and it’d escalated to boiling point on the night of the BAFTAs when Tom hadn’t been able to shut up and thrust his win right into your face - quite literally. You can still remember the way he’d clutched the trophy as he’d shown it off in all its grandeur.

Ever since then, your relationship has been poisonous. A case of miscommunication and petty jealousy turned hostile, and now you’re in far too deep to even think about mending the fractured dynamic. 

“I am a nice guy,” Tom tells you. His eyes skim across your face, and you don’t miss the way they drag across the curve of your lower lip.

“As if.” You ponder which anecdote you should fall back on to prove your point, and it takes a while to select one: the pool of Tom’s past mistakes and moves against you is vast and wide. “Would a nice guy conveniently forget to invite me to Harrison’s birthday party?”

Tom winces, and something almost like regret flickers out across his face before he meets your eyes and hardens up his gaze. “I’ve already told you that was a case of miscommunication,” he says slowly, patronising. “I doubt you would have enjoyed it anyway, Y/N. Wasn’t exactly your type of party.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your hand finds your waist, gripping firmly at your flesh to stop your fingers from shaking. The way Tom looks at you so intensely makes you feel strung-out and bare, and it’s almost as if he can see straight through you.

“It was a small, intimate gathering. From what I’ve been hearing, you’re a fan of the larger, more explosive parties, aren’t you?”

You could throttle him. You could really, truly throttle him. You know with certainty that Tom’s referring to the latest smear the media had run against you, which had placed you at an illegal rave in Downtown LA and cost you a role in a film you were passionate about. 

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Tom.” 

“Maybe not.” Tom’s closer to you now. You find your back brushing up against the wall as he steps nearer yet again, his shiny leather shoes sparkling beneath the light curving out from the chandeliers. “I’d like to think I know you quite well, though, Y/N. We have known each other for several years.”

“I’d use the word ‘known’ very loosely if I were you. I think it’s more like, ‘been plagued by’, but you do you, Tom.” 

He laughs, and this time the noise is lighter. You feel a little woozy from the champagne - or maybe it’s his cologne - and you let your hand wander up to rest on the top of Tom’s suit. You drag your fingers across the smooth material, marvelling at how soft the designer garb is to touch.

“Do you like my suit?” Tom asks, his voice lower than before. There’s a strange charge to the air between you, and you find yourself nodding.

“I disagree with the glasses, but your suit is decent. I have to admit that this colour looks flattering on you.” The bold burgundy tones bring out the warmth in his eyes, even if the stupid thin frames of his glasses obscure them. You watch as his pupils widen and feel the warmth of Tom’s breath as he inches in closer. 

“Thanks,” he says. Tom’s hand winds around your waist. “Your dress is very nice.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You briefly wish that you had another glass of champagne to keep you occupied because you find your other hand joining the first and finding purchase on Tom’s shoulder. He’s very close to you, and there’s nowhere left to move because you’d backed up against the wall. Fleetingly you wonder what it must look like, to be hidden away at the back of the party and caged in like this, but you decide that the flurry of heated emotions passing through his eyes and the way his thumb pads over your waist is worth it.

Neither of you says a word, but you watch through wide eyes as Tom’s gaze flickers out across your lower lip. He inches in closer, almost painfully slowly, his demeanour radiating a shaky confidence as he tilts the angle of his head. You watch the hard lines of his mouth dissolve, and his smirk melts away into something like a smile as his eyes flutter shut. Now Tom is very close - so, so close - and the gap between your mouths narrows by the second.

He’s going to kiss you. You know he’s going to kiss you. Why is he going to kiss you? Why are you going to let him kiss you-

“Y/N! Hey, congrats on the film. I saw it last week with my wife, and she loved it-”

Tom springs back. You gasp a short breath of air as your eyes widen, and the film of scattered emotions that had temporarily disarmed you shatters. Tom’s cheeks are bright red, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do as he jams his hands into his trouser pockets and stares at the floor.

“-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Your throat tickles as you shake your head, looking up to see Mark Ruffalo standing there, his expression relaxed but growing in confusion as he drinks in the awkward tension rippling between you and Tom.

“No,” you say immediately, a bite to your voice. You refuse to look at Tom. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Mark releases a breath of relief and launches back into his speech, complimenting you profusely on your performance. You become distracted as you listen to him, but not enough to forget about the way Tom had leaned closer and brushed his thumb across your side almost gently. After a few moments of conversation, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over towards Tom, only to notice that he’s slunk away elsewhere. His absence makes your heart twist.

Another hour slips away, and you find yourself returning to the Moët for release. You can feel your composure gliding away from you with each fateful sip. Tom seems to have vanished, and you find yourself questioning if he’s so embarrassed by your moment in the corner that he had to leave. You wonder if that would be better than him staying.

But eventually, your eyes seek him out, as they always seem to do. And you catch him chatting with a woman, his arm around her shoulders and his lips brushed against her ear. Tom seems to feel your gaze on him, and his deep brown eyes meet with yours. He raises his eyebrows and whispers something into the woman’s ear that makes her laugh, and it sends something whipping down your spine.

It isn’t just jealousy - it goes deeper than that. It’s the realisation that you could never get away with this behaviour. You know that if the roles were reversed and it was you who had been seen getting close to two men in one night, you would be assigned a whole host of derogatory names. The double standards that exist in this artificial world of cameras and headlines make you feel sick to your stomach. You are not jealous of the woman beneath Tom’s arm, though you will admit it makes you feel uneasy - it’s the hypocrisy of it all that makes you seethe. 

“Excuse me,” you mutter to no one in particular. Tom’s eyes slip away from yours as you put down your empty glass and turn, heading in the direction of an exit. You wander the vast, glittering ballroom for a few moments before spying a door embedded in the back wall that leads out into a dark alleyway.

When you step out onto the street, the cold February air seems to bring your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You giggle softly to yourself and wrap your arms around your chest, your fingers rubbing rapid fiery circles across your exposed flesh as you try to drum up a heat.

You lean back against the wall and stare up at the vacant sky. LA is too polluted to see the stars, but you like to imagine they’re staring down back at you. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of laughter coming out from the hall, and out at the end of the alley you can see the street, cloaked in dark paparazzi vans and dim amber street-lamps, but tucked away up here alone, you feel at peace. 

“Cinderella runs away from the ball, yet again.”

You scowl. Your eyes move away from the dark blanket of clouds to see Tom. He’s ditched the glasses, but you can see the legs sticking out from the pocket sewn to the top of his suit.

“Joined by her ugly pumpkin.” You screw up your nose at your own words, cursing your fizzled mind for messing up the tale. “That’s not right, is it?”

Tom approaches you, his cheeks full of a rosy tipsiness. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Think I like it better than being called your ugly sister, though.”

“Ew.”

You share a loud, unruly laugh with Tom, your voices mixing almost melodically. When you sigh, you lean further against the wall. 

“I hate it in there,” you find yourself admitting. “So many people were talking about me behind my back. It’s like they think I can’t tell that they’ve just been discussing me when I walk over and the conversation falls silent.” You slot your fingers together and play around with your thumbs. “Everything is so fake. It’s like a game to them.”

A cool breeze floats down the alley, and you find yourself shivering.

“It is a game,” Tom says slowly, all whilst slipping off his suit jacket. He holds it out to you, raising an eyebrow when you shake your head. “It’s cold, Y/N. I know you’re stubborn, but neither of us wants you to freeze out here.”

The mood between you feels tender, and you let yourself accept his warm jacket. You throw it across your shoulders and feel the warm embrace of his suit, and the husky traces of cologne nestled to the fabric, but Tom’s looking at you with an intense gaze, and the sight of his golden browns draws you back to the scenes from inside the party. 

“Saw you chatting with a woman inside,” you say, words a little sharper. “Trying to see how many times you have to try it on before someone bites?”

Tom flinches. The air fills with the sound of him clicking his tongue as he rubs his hands together. “You are so fucking petty, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, responding to his clipped voice with surprise. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

He groans softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t swear at you. You just get under my bloody skin.”

You shrug. “You’ve said worse.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

Tom’s bearing in on you again, but this time you feel more at ease. The scent of his cologne mixes with the sweet champagne that lays fresh across your palette, and it makes you feel delirious. You can’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your hands across his shoulders, bringing him nearer.

“You drive me crazy,” Tom admits. His voice is husky, his eyes dark and intense. In the slight breeze, strands of his hair waft across his forehead.

“I can’t stand you,” you return. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his hands dig into your waist. The rough render on the building behind you digs into your back as you loop your arms around Tom’s neck and bring him in closer.

“Neither can I, darling.”

It’s like magnetism - some sort of invisible force pulling you in before you can even fathom it. One moment you’re staring at Tom, scepticism in your eyes and anxiety thick in your chest, the next he’s surged forwards and captured your lips in a messy, sensational kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and your fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back harshly. Your noses bump and your teeth collide as Tom grabs at your sides with fervour, and having him clutching at you is so hot that it takes your breath away. The kiss is messy and hurried, and it seems to melt down all the built-up tension and frustration you’ve been nurturing for years. It makes your head hurt, and all you can focus on is how crazy it is that you are kissing Tom Holland - and, horrifyingly, how much you don’t seem to hate it. 

It comes crashing down when there’s a round of flashes, and you hear the telltale sound of paparazzi photographs.

“Shit!” You push Tom away from you immediately, your breath hitching as your head snaps down to the end of the alley. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’ve been spotted by the men with those large, invasive lenses. The flashes continue, and you turn away, your actions almost in slow motion as you feel a wave of nausea travel across your chest.

“Y/N!”

“Tom, Tom!”

“Are you dating?”

“Having a bit of fun tonight, Y/N?”

A chorus of cataclysmic yells come racing down the alley and the howls of the paparazzi mix with the loud sound of camera shutters.

“Fuck.” Tom grabs your arm, and he pulls you away from them, bringing you both back into the party. There’s a tightness in your chest as you gasp for breath, walking in dizzying strides as you card your fingers through your hair anxiously. 

“No, no, no,” you mutter to yourself. You can hear the calls of the paparazzi ringing in your ears, and you dig your fingers into your temples for relief as you snap your head to glare at Tom. “Why did you just kiss me? What’s wrong with you?”

Tom looks pale, and his eyes are round with shock, but he still manages to stare at you incredulously. “You kissed me too?”

You bury your head in your hands. “This is it - this is the last straw. They’re going to have a field day with this.” You peek out at Tom through gaps in your fingers, laughing humourlessly. Your chest burns as you take in his disarmed expression and his deep chocolate eyes. “This is the end.”

“It… It was just one kiss.”

You shake your head furiously. “They’ll run with it. They’ll make a spectacle of us.” Your nails dig into the soft palms of your hands. “You are such an asshole.”

Tom’s mouth, a little red and puffy, twists into something of a snarl. “You kissed me! Why is this my fault?”

“It’s always your fault.” You pause and shake your head. You can’t help but fall back on the naive thought that this truly is all Tom’s fault. You’d been fine before him. You’d been looking into the starless sky. You’d been at peace. He’d just had to waltz on out and trick you into his lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy the end of your career.”

He raises a thin eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been associated with me, which is the equivalent of getting a big black line scored right across your name.” You reach up and jerk his jacket from your shoulders, and roughly shove it back into Tom’s hands.

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Your gaze hardens. “This is all just a game, Tom, don’t you see? We don’t get to decide who stays on top.” You laugh humourlessly, your tongue tasting sourly of champagne. “We have fucked up.”

Tom sets his jaw. One by one, he stuffs his arms through his suit jacket and tugs it back around his body, sinking into it forcibly. He pulls his glasses from the pocket and places them back on the bridge of his nose, balancing them crookedly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom remarks, his voice cold and sharp. You briefly wonder if he understands the magnitude of the situation, and as he sweeps away without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye, you realise he probably does.

Without yet wholly understanding it, one drunken kiss has sealed your fate. As you stand there, twiddling with your thumbs in the back corner of the Vanity Fair party, your mind races. You know with absolute certainty that things will never be the same again, but not even your wildest dreams could compare to what is about to come.

buckle up bc I’m about to take us on a ride and a half. may as well have ended this with an ellipsis lmao.

↠  next part

any thoughts?! I am actually dying to know what you’re thinking lmao!! my askbox is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description 

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

The Balcony - Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: Of playing games with each other and meeting in your favorite spot in the castle at midnight. 18+

A/N: So tumblr decided to delete my story the last time I posted this -.- So here I go again. Also, fyi, this is my first time writing smut :D Enjoy <3

Words: 3481 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader Warnings: smut smut smut. Princess!Reader (again, lol).

You see him first.

He is standing on the balcony, looking out into the night. His arms are propped up on the balustrade, a glass of wine resting next to him. His composure is relaxed and he seems to feel at ease. An unusual sight.

You know who he is. Everyone does. The Witcher, people had whispered in the corridors, the Witcher is coming. To you, he was nothing more than a myth up until three days ago. Childhood stories, the handmaiden told you, to keep you from running into the woods alone. When you grew to be a woman, you forgot about them, thinking they were a mixture of exaggeration and fear. However, when he walked into the great hall with long strides and planted a kiss on your hand, your impression changed. He is everything they say.  

You observe him, wondering what brings him out here this summer night. The chamber is far away from the guest wing and hasn’t been used in years. You are the only one who still comes up occasionally to sit on the balcony, listening to the howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves from the nearby forest. It comforts you in a strange way, makes you forget your life at court with all its intrigues, politics and bloodshed.

A soft breeze wafts through the room, moving the old heavy curtains ever so slightly. You shiver as your nipple harden against the soft fabric of your nightgown. It is the only thing you wearing. After all, you didn’t expect others to see you.

In this moment, the bell from the high tower sounds. Midnight. It takes you off guard and causes you to breath in sharply. He hears you and tilts his head almost inconceivably. Almost.

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. The well-behaved royal daughter inside you tells you to leave. Turn around and go back to your room. Fall asleep and wonder if this encounter has only been a dream. The other daughter, the one who sneaks around the castle at midnight, wonders what will happen if you approach him. You decide to listen to her.

It takes you another three seconds to muster up the courage before you start walking towards the balcony, your bare feet making no sound on the cold stone. Outside the wind blows softly and goosebumps appear on your arms – a cloak would have been a good idea. You stand next to him, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of your gown. “Witcher.”

He does not acknowledge your presence, keeping his eyes fixated on the woods. You ask yourself if he sees something out there that stays hidden from you. After a moment, he grabs his wine and takes a sip and carefully places it back on the balustrade. “Princess Y/N.”

You nearly shudder by the way your name rolls of his tongue.

“How did you find this chamber?”

Again, he takes his time to answer. “Couldn’t sleep,” he finally says.

“Doesn’t answer my question,” you respond.

“Hmm.”  The Witcher takes another sip of the dark wine.

Disappointment and confusion dwells up inside of you. He irritates you, as you are not used to people talking to you like in that manner. Or not talking, in his case. Almost pouting you try a third time: “Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies, closer to your chambers.”

For the first time since you stepped outside, he looks at you. He’s beautiful. It is impossible to read his expression as he is eyeing you up, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on your chest. Suddenly, you become aware of the transparency of your nightgown and your cheeks flush. You clear your throat nervously and cross your arms.

The corners of his lips move upwards a little and he meets your eyes again. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you reply a little louder than necessary to chase away the nervousness. “More than that, I’m the princess of this kingdom so I can order you to answer me if you choose to stay silent.” In your head, this sentence had sounded strong and confident. In reality however, it has more resemblance with a spoiled, overreacting, defiant child.

The Witcher seemingly has the same impression and raises his eyebrows.

You keep staring at him. It is too late to take the statement back so you might as well go with it.

“Do it then.”

“What?” A little bewildered you uncrossed your arms.

“Order me,” Geralt demands.

“You want me to order you?”

“That is what I said, yes,” he shrugs.

He’s playing with me, the thought shoots through your mind. “Alright then,” you straighten your composure and he mimics it. Now, Geralt of Rivia towers over you. You have to look up to him and the same feeling of irritation that you felt just moments before resurfaces. “I demand to know how you found this place and why you’re here.”

His lips twitch again and you realize, he’s suppressing another smile. “I’m here because I had a hard time falling asleep. In moments like this, I enjoy taking a walk. Instead of going outside, I decided to come here.”

You ponder shortly about the reason for his restlessness. Is it the full moon, shining too brightly, or simply nightmares? Does the Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, even experience such a mundane thing as nightmares? Do the monsters and people he kills on his way through the continent haunt him sometimes?

He continues to talk and pulls you out of your thoughts. “As to why I’m here, it’s a more … delicate story,” for a reason unknown, his voice becomes even lower.

You are intrigued. “Try me.”

“I saw this balcony while walking through the forest two nights ago.” A smirk appears on his face.

It clicks right away with you. Oh. Your cheeks flush, embarrassment taking over. You know what he is hinting at and close your eyes to gather your thoughts. Oh no. When you open them again, the smirk was still plastered on his face.

“You don’t know what you saw, Witcher.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I think I do, Y/N.”

There it is again – the shiver running down your spine as he pronounces your name with his sharp rivian accent. Absent-minded, you lick over your lips.

“How dare you watch –“

“I didn’t. Not for long anyways.”

You are doubtful whether to believe him. “You can hang for this.” Factually true. What he did was worthy of the death sentence.

“Princess,” Geralt takes a step towards you. Firewood and leather, you smell and it makes you feel dizzy. He lowers his head, mere inches separating you. “If you want to see me hang, you have to give reason to the king.” Factually true as well. “Please allow me to witness that particular conversation.”

“Fucking jerk,” you blurt out. How does he do it? How does he make you feel like a sixteen-year-old girl who has never talked to a boy before? You are a princess, damn beautiful and even more powerful. No man has the right to take your control away like this and leave you breathless, desperately looking for words. Especially not a Witcher.

He smiles and lowers his head a little further. “I know.”

His lips are now so close to yours they would probably touch when you said another word. You can sense the warmth radiating from his body and his eyes watching you intensly, observing every movement of your face. You are blissfully aware of what he wants in this moment, what he craves. Quickly you become aware that there might be certain things he still has in common with other men and now you are the one with the smirk on your lips. The Witcher notices it, yet reads your reaction wrong and faintly brushes his fingers against the side of your body. It’s all your body needs. A tingling sensation and your breath hitches. He takes it as a another sign and parts his lips and …

… you take a step backwards. As if someone woke him up from a daydream, he regains his composure, a hint of bewilderment running over his face.

“Careful, Witcher,” you reprimand him. “Don’t forget who’s standing in front of you.”

Having the control of the situation was what you wanted – now you have it. Not without shooting him a last mocking smile, you turn around and walk away with your head held high. Left on the balcony in a chilly summer night is a dumbfounded Witcher, watching you exit the room and disappear into the dark corridor.

 *** 

Over the next day, Geralt of Rivia leaves the castle with his bard. He is looking for the reason he traveled to the kingdom in the first time – a beast that already slaughtered half a dozen villagers.

He leaves early in the morning and as you pass him in the hall, you do not look at him. The back of your hand brushes against his, quickly, teasingly, as if you accidentally walked by too close. You feel his eyes on you and smile when he is out of sight.

When he returns in the evening, he announces his success. The monster is dead and the king and queen want to celebrate, so they order the staff to cook the finest dishes and bring out the best wine. He declines but four hours pass and the festivities start. People are dancing, drinking, and his companion sings of the Witchers latest victory.

At one point, Geralt is leaning against a pillar, drink in hand. He watches the crowd, seemingly bored, when his eyes trail in your direction and meet yours. This time, you don’t look away. The music and chatter around you start to blur as the two of you keep watching each other. Your fingers play with the heavy necklace resting against your bosom and he follows them as though he is captivated by the sight.

A glass falling, shattering and spilling its content all over the  ground ultimately brings you back to reality. You break the eye contact and abruptly stand up.

“I’m tired, please excuse me,” you mumble, unsure if someone hears you.

 *** 

One hour later, you are standing on the balcony again. 

When you had left the party you were honest in wanting to go to sleep. So back in your chambers, you changed out of your dress into your nightgown, undid your hair and laid down. However, something keeps you awake and it is not possible to fall asleep. You toss and turn and for whatever reason finally decide to come back up here.

It is not as quiet tonight as you are used to. People from the party keep coming out for a breath of fresh air and guards are patrolling the gardens. You watch them silently.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

You don’t flinch or wince at the low voice sounding from the dark room behind you, having expected him to come here.

The door falls shut and a sense of excitement flows through you. His steps come closer until you feel him standing directly behind you. His hot breath touches the skin of your neck and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies closer to your chamber,” Geralts voice is nothing more than a whisper.

You smile softly. “Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, repeating his words from last night.

“Hmm…”

His hand is resting on your hip now, only the thin fabric of your gown separating him from your skin. The touch makes your heart pound faster and the same tingling sensation, you had felt before, appears.

“Y/N,” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me, I’m not reading this wrong …”

“This?” 

With a swift movement he spins you around and presses you up against the balustrade. You draw a sharp breath of air in surprise and are not sure if it’s the cold metal from his belt that causes your nipples to get hard or the way his hands hug your hips.

“This,” he repeated himself, his voice hoarse and his eyes as dark as the night sky.

Maybe it was the way your lips parted or that you tilted your head or how you moved your hips forward slightly – either way, Geralt realizes that he is not reading anything wrong at all and kisses you. 

Finally.

The kiss is rough and demanding and you feel the need to grab him by his jacket to hold on to him. One of his hands cups your face and his tongue slips in your mouth. He is possessive and you feel as if he tries to claim you, tries to make him his. Suddenly Geralt lifts you up onto the balustrade and you immediately wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. The ground is thirty feet beneath you and you do not care for dying this way.

“I got you,” he whispers and groans when you grind your hips against his. “I won’t let you fall.” 

He begins kissing down your neck, sucking on the soft skin. It will leave marks, you are sure of it, yet it doesn’t matter. One of his hand reaches your breasts, his thumb flicking over your hard nipples, and you sigh heavily as he plays with them.

“This gown,” he is out of breath when he speaks, “… it drives me crazy.”

You chuckle. “I know…”

A gasp leaves your lips when you hear the loud sound of fabric tearing and feel the wind on your bare skin. He kisses your collarbone and travels down further, his tongue reaching the delicate skin of your breasts, caressing your nipple playfully before closing his mouth around it.

You moan and your head falls back, eyes closed, and then you start pushing his jacket from his shoulders. You want to feel his skin too, touch it, kiss it. When it falls to the ground, you tug at his shirt, your hands sliding underneath it. It’s not enough, you think or maybe you say it out lout because you feel Geralt smiling against your skin.

You grab his belt, opening it, breathing heavily and letting out soft whimpers as he bites and sucks on your skin. When the pants finally spring open, they free his impressive length and the sight of him, hard and dripping for you, makes you shudder. You reach for it, enclosing it, slowly moving your hand up and down. Geralt groans deeply and pulls away to meet your lips. He holds you tightly as the kiss hastens together with the movements of your hands. Your insides twirl at the sounds he makes.

“I need you…” The expression on his face is pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth opened slightly. 

He is a sight for the gods.

“Then take me, Witcher.”

He doesn’t ask a second time and positions himself in front of your wet and throbbing cunt. His hot shaft against your skin, he curses when he feels how wet you are, and every fiber of your body wants him – wants him deep inside of you, filling you completely, fucking you until you forget your own name. 

When he finally does, he is not gentle. He enters you with one hard trust and a loud moan escapes your lips. He stretches you far, so far, it almost pains you – and yet it is the most delicious pain you ever felt. You pull him in for another kiss, swallowing another curse from his lips. The moment he starts moving, pleasure overcomes you like a wave and you bite down on his lips so hard you are scared it draws blood. Geralt slides in and out of you, pressing your leg, forcing it to spread open even wider. You gasp at the new angle and your muscle clench around him. The two of you are panting heavily, groaning and curses fill the silence of the night.

It doesn’t take long and you feel a familiar heat start arousing in your body. Spots appear in front of your eyes and you scratch his back in an attempt to feel him closer to you.

“Oh, fuck – you fill me so good!” You are so close, so damn close – 

The Witcher stops moving abruptly and you whimper, demanding to know what he think he’s doing. He doesn’t give you an answer and instead places a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he murmurs into your ear between heavy breathing. “There are people outside.”

Only now you hear them talking, merely a few feet beneath. Guests from the festivities, you figure. Frustrated, you try to bite his calloused fingers covering your lips.

“Ah, Princess,” his hoarse voice in your ear makes you twitch and as you roll your hips against him, his breath hitches. “You don’t want them to see you like this, do you? Hot, sweaty, filled by my thick cock –“

You moan against his fingers.

He looks at you in surprise, a teasing smile on his lips. “Or maybe you do?” Slowly, he begins to move again. The pace is pure torture and your hips rock up, begging him to take you. He moans in your ear. “Does it turn you on, Princess? Letting me fuck you like this, making you beg and quiver underneath me and for the whole world to see?” Every other word is punctuated by hard thrusts and your whimpers.

“Is this why I saw you touching yourself three nights ago?” Geralt fucks you harder and faster, the sound of naked bodies smacking against each other filling the air. You don’t think it’s possible but his words make you even wetter, your slick juices running down your leg. 

“Who was the man you thought about when I saw you, Y/N?” Now it’s not a simple question anymore, it’s a demand. “Who made you cum like that?” He is ordering you to answer him and it turns you on beyond imagination.

He removes his hand to steady himself on the balustrade and you moan so loudly that if anyone is still standing underneath the balcony, they definitely heard you now. However, your mind isn’t occupied with that particular concern.

“You,” you admit breathlessly. “I thought about you … touching me … taking me …” It’s the truth. It was the day you met him for the first time and the handsome Witcher wouldn’t leave your mind. So you came up here, unaware someone was watching you. When you touched yourself that night, you thought about what he would do to you. How he would take you, where he would kiss you. Yet, your imagination did not even come close to the way he feels inside you right now.

“Gods,” he groans, losing all control, fucking you violently, taking you as he pleases. You repeat his name over and over again, begging him not to stop, to never ever stop. Then your legs start shaking and you hear him calling out your name before you come all over his cock, muscles clenching around him. A wave of heat and pleasure hits you, taking over your body and mind and you cling onto him desperately, his name still on your lips. He follows shortly after, cursing and releasing himself inside of you.

Your breath trembles as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm and he keeps holding you close and safe in his arms.

After a few seconds or minutes, you truly are not sure, you plant a soft kiss on his shoulder. Geralt looks up, his breathing slowing down, and he pushes a strand of hair out of your face. A smile appears on his face. “I must say, I’ve come to understand what you like about this balcony.”

You snort. “It’s still my balcony,” you claim cheekily.

“Maybe the princess is kind enough to let me visit some times.”

“Maybe,” you lean in for a last kiss. It is sweet this time. Sweet and – in a way – loving. “If you behave yourself.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. Then he carefully pulls out of you and you sigh softly before you slide down the balustrade.

Geralt dresses himself, picking his jacket up from the ground, but when you attempt to do the same you see what is left of your dress. It isn’t much. “How am I supposed to get to my chambers now? Naked?”, you propose sarcastically.

His eyes travel up and down your bare skin at the question as he buttons up his pants and he licks his lips. “Maybe not at all,” he suggests seductively, a teasing smirk on his lips and you both laugh when he lifts you up and carries you inside the chamber.

Nearby, the old bell in the high tower sounds. Midnight.

***

For the sake of the story, imagine the balustrade of the balcony to be rather wide :D

My Masterlist

My Tag list: @just-antiyou , @sarah-midnight , @aspiring-ginger​ , @seb-owns-these-tatas​

If you want to be added to my tag list, just message me! <3

[moondustaeil]

𝐫𝐞:𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

↳ Ambrosia's not-so-happy life update.

trigger warning, this post includes: weight loss, food, calorie counting, disordered eating habits, suicide, insecurities, fears.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭?

As I contemplate whether I should make an earnest post look as aesthetic as possible, my eyes are tearing up to Lee Chansub's "Gone". Therefore, this chapter gets named after his lyrics.

Since when was it? It's a question that crosses my mind after deciding on the chapter name, even though I'm well aware of the number of days that have passed. Each day I write that significant number in my journal, but there must be more than the pen can write. Beyond my awareness: there must have been a certain amount of time spent on a prologue to pen down the event that ultimately led to this chapter.

Since where was it? There could be multiple meanings behind the question, but I can only formulate a limited answer despite the openness. As far as I'm in charge of this story, there is no why or where. Yes, I quite literally woke up one day and decided to go on a diet, simple as that. Before that day, dieting never crossed my mind: I never saw my body as too much or myself as too little compared to others. Can you understand now why I think a prologue was written for me and not by me?

Anyhow, let's have a look at how I think I experienced my life before the diet. Sometimes I think I don't even remember how I experienced the last moments of it, but that doesn't mean I don't know how it went. My life before the diet was pretty plain: I didn't engage in any social or physical activities and spent most of my time behind my laptop to write or lurk around on YouTube. Eating-habit-wise, I never ate much: three meals a day with occasional snacks, those snacks probably covering more calories than my meals did. Despite eating calorie-covering snacks, I would have given my all for fruit and vegetables, especially frozen fruit. Back then, I already had significant eating habits: I'd eat nuts when I was stressed, drink smoothies while studying for exams, eat sour sweets when I was bored. My body before the diet wasn't that noteworthy: I maintained the same weight for around three years and only ditched my tight jeans because covid had me feeling too lazy to wear them. A youth like this might sound boring to you, but I gladly lived my life like this and, I don't regret the way I spent it.

I can still recall up to two days before it began: I can tell the contents of those days like I was the supporting cast instead of the main character, simply because I can't remember the emotions. The two last days were spent behind my laptop, waiting for the exam results while eating spicy nuts (to keep the stress level low). When the exam results came, and I realised I passed them all, I must have felt relieved. But in my memory, I didn't and don't feel anything at all concerning my exams. And that's where it stops. I don't even know where it starts again.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲

It quite literally feels like I woke up with no memories of the first days of the diet: I can recall what I ate, but not what I did or felt.

On the first day, I drank a strawberry oat smoothie for breakfast. It was my first self-made smoothie which was convincingly delicious compared to the bought smoothies I used to have. That same day, I stopped eating snacks: unknowingly, I restricted them and wouldn't allow them for the months after.

That paragraph is all I remember from the first day, and if I were to write one about every day of that week, it would be less each day. Maybe those days just weren't memory-worthy enough as I don't want to search for a reason behind every single thing.

For approximately twenty-eight days after the first one, I have no recollections. The only way I can reflect on those days is by checking my calorie intake and physical activity. Though, it doesn't feel like I was the one who tracked it.

The first proper recollection I have is of a day I ate 180 calories for the first time: a number I can only wonder about now. Though it was my first time having such a low intake, it wasn't the last or lowest. The number 180 seemed to attract me as in the days that followed, 180 would be the maximum amount of calories I'd consume. Back then, I had no idea what TDEE or BMR (of any of the other terms) were, so I can't tell you what my deficit was. But I would burn around 1200 calories a day by exercising, and that should be enough to raise red flags.

From that point on, even though I was probably slowly killing myself, I felt alive. A growing obsession with food, weight loss and exercise was fueling my mind. While my body was left behind, trying to catch up with the pace. If I didn't lose more than 1 gram overnight, I'd starve myself the next day. If I felt too lazy to exercise, I'd punish myself for being lazy by doing more. My weight dropped a lot, up to the point where the scale sometimes seemed to skip numbers.

Then a parent swap came: I would be staying with my dad for two weeks. In advance, I had already figured out everything I thought I needed to know: how I would skip meals without him finding out, at what times I could exercise without him knowing, where I could throw away the food he thought I would eat. The day I packed my bag and left for his house, my plans turned into action.

The two weeks there went as smooth as I planned them to go. Even with bonuses: he worked up to three days a week and did not question it when I didn't eat. In those two weeks, I would replace kpop videos with programs I used to despise: supersize versus superskinny and mukbangs. The videos would satisfy my hunger in some way, even though they caused me to start nailbiting. I wouldn't eat: I would only watch as others fed themselves.

Since I lost the initial subject I wanted to discuss in this chapter (I'm so sorry), I shall be moving on to the next chapter.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭?

It was at this point that people were starting to notice things that I hadn't. Sometimes those things were appearance-related and, other times it was personality-related or even habit-related.

It started with a compliment from my aunt, and I felt like I was glowing when she mentioned my visible jawline and thin face. Maybe I was slightly disappointed that she noticed the facial changes before my body but, at the same time, she noticed a difference!

After her, people started commenting on my body, and I worked more to achieve those comments. I saw them as comments rather than compliments: I didn't tire myself out starting from 5:20 am every day just to receive a meaningless compliment. I wanted people to take notice.

And, they did. People that directly surrounded me were starting to notice things that I failed to see. Mostly stuff that changed about my personality while my body was changing. My mother told me that I became the opposite of easy-going and friendly when others were around. My sister told me that my facial expressions had gone even further than my usual resting bitch face. My nephew said that all I would do was try to end up in arguments with others and that he didn't like being around me anymore. It hurt to have all of those things said, but at the same time, I was too in denial to care. The only thing I cared about was food, exercise and losing weight.

On rare occasions, I became aware of the person I became. Mostly when others would try to reach me by calling or coming over but I was too busy to talk to them, and if I did, I would talk about food-related things only. So, I shut everyone out.

I no longer talked to my friends daily, wouldn't reply to my parents sending me messages, didn't go on social media unless it was to look at food or triggering images.

The world consisted of me and was ruled by my obsession.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

There is an unknown amount of time that settles itself between the previous chapter and this chapter. During this time, I once again feel like I'm just a supporting character: my habits develop and my obsession rules over everything I do.

Many of the things I did (which already wasn't a lot, to begin with), were based on stuff I said already. Though even more refined and obsessive.

When I closed my eyes, sleep would take me to dreams about food and weight loss. Approximately three times a night, I would open my eyes, assume it was morning and get ready for another day of exhaustion and starvation. Those nightly hours are still engraved in my mind and current habits: 12:00 am, 3:20 am, 5:28 am.

It is in this chapter that a slow awareness creeps up on me. The side effects are what wakens me when everything else consumes me: constant thoughts about food, the inability to sleep, not being able to think or focus, drifting from reality, always feeling cold, tingling headaches, not leaving the house for days unless it's for shopping (because I would look at food I couldn't eat).

"I need to stop," I told myself while I wrote in my journal how much better I would be if I lost some more weight because the scale is tempting me.

I didn't want to stop. I just wanted it to stop.

Though in reality, I had no control to stop myself or it. I had lost control long ago, and to this day, I still have no idea at which chapter I left it behind. Some days I thought of how to stop, but the exit sign was more like a full-stop as it led me to think of killing myself: it would make my family stop commenting on my condition and could give me a sense of freedom even though I would be dead.

It surely wasn't the first time I passed that exit sign in life, but it was the first time I felt determined to pass it by. All I wanted was to be able to sleep peacefully without thinking of food. *Snort*, such high standards.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

Unexpectedly, a good dream did cloud over my bedroom. Even though it was simple, it's one of the dreams that I hope to keep in my memory forever. And for laughs, I'll share it.

TO1-member Donggeon was standing near my garage but, my mother's car wasn't in the driveway because she wasn't home. I was standing outside with him while he talked with Wei's Donghan (who was invisible to me). They were having a casual conversation in Korean. Then, he wanted to lean against the car that wasn't in the driveway, causing him to fall on all fours. He laughed at his stupidity and, at the same time, his ears were getting red from embarrassment.

That pretty much sums up the first not-food-related dream I had during my entire journey. And I still remember waking up at 3:20 am, laughing: it was stupid and silly but left such a big impression on me. And that's when I told myself: "I need to recover".

It sounds silly but I still, to this day, think that this dream set me off into recovery mode. Even though I felt like I had no control, I tried to take control: calculated a number of calories that I surely had to eat each day, planned Thursday to be my active rest-day, found less intense workouts to do in the morning, tried to replace the mukbangs in my watch later list by relaxing videos or recovery videos, scheduled to journal every day. Though I told myself I would do those things, it wasn't easy to put my words into action.

Yet, I fucking did it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

Not going to lie: I spent all night wondering how I was going to write this and all morning putting it into proper words. Hence, the reason why I'm feeling exhausted: too exhausted to continue writing it even though the blooming period is so close. So instead of giving a lecture on recovery: I will try to give my opinion on recovering and how I'm doing these days.

Each day, I still question whether I'm truly in a recovery of something. I never went to see a professional or verbally admitted to my problems, so I never learned whether I'm recovering from something or just making progress after a downfall. I might be familiar with the use of DSM-4 and DSM-5 but, that doesn't mean I'm qualified to judge on whether I had/have a disorder or not. Yet, I opt to use the terms disordered eating and recovery until I'm sure of what it was that I went through.

Some days it feels like I was faking all of it, but then I realise, how was I faking it while I was going through it and experiencing it? Perhaps some of you reading even think I am faking all of the above, but that's your opinion. I don't need to defend myself for feeling things.

Now, I'll update you on where I'm standing today because I guess I wrote six chapters in order to get to this point. We all know I like to write more than necessary.

⋅ My disordered eating habits and calorie intake: I have made quite some progress (even if I say so myself). Each week, I challenge myself to increase my calorie intake by 100 until I reach my maintenance calories. It isn't as easy as it sounds because by the time I actually dared to increase by ten calories, the week is over, and I have to adjust my goal because I wasn't even able to reach close to where I planned to be. This week my goal is to eat 800 calories a day: a number that unexpectedly is paired with a lot of guilt and fear, so I haven't been able to eat that amount yet. The maximum I've eaten is 641 calories a day. Together with that, I also promised myself to eat one fear food or not-eaten food a week: that way, I hope to stop restricting myself and learn to enjoy them again. Some lasting habits I developed: I fear eating too early and will try to push back eating as late as I can because it gives me the feeling that I can enjoy it for longer but I do have strict hours, I cut everything into mini pieces because it gives me the feeling that I have more to nibble on and more to enjoy, I read every single nutrition label multiple times (in the store and at home) because I fear that it might include too many calories or fat, I don't eat anything that I didn't plan and nothing that I can't track calorie-wise, I eat the same thing for breakfast every day because I feel like it's the only food I can trust. The urge to skip meals or lie about them is getting smaller, but the thought always remains in the back of my mind.

⋅ My weight: I'm at a weight that is still considered healthy according to whoever feels qualified to judge. However, I fear gaining weight every single day, which stops me from eating my weekly allowance. Despite eating more than at the start of this: I still lose weight. The weight loss fuels the bad habits once more, but I try to tell myself that my weight is only to indicate whether I'm close to my maintenance calories or not.

⋅ My body: my body kept most of its side effects inside until I started to recover aside from the ones that I've stated before. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't feel cold despite wearing a shirt only, so that was a win for my body. However, I do have constant headaches, get blackouts often and, I easily feel my energy draining whenever I do a little bit too much (which I didn't always feel when I was actively doing it). That being said, my abilities have definitely decreased: you can read what kind of exercise I do in the next paragraph, but it has decreased a lot because I will feel weak sooner than before.

⋅ Exercise: I am between struggling and not struggling with it. The reason why I started to exercise was to burn more calories than I ate. But back then, I had no knowledge of BMR and whatnot. These days I do a lot less impactful exercise than I did before, but I still exercise each day: I do 96 minutes of stationary cycling a day, go on daily walks and have the obsession to take steps whenever I'm standing still. As you might be able to tell, I feel like I'm on the line of having control here.

⋅ My personality/social life/hobbies: even though I was in denial about my changing personality for a long while, I eventually realised that people were right when they said I changed. The realisation came during recovery, mostly because I noticed how I was in a better mood than when I was at my lowest point. My social life is building up slowly and doesn't always include me having to talk about my weight loss or food, though people always mention it so, I do always end up having to talk about it without wanting to. As for hobbies, I found my interest in kpop and writing again but, it's still at a somewhat moderate level. I still find myself lurking at food-related posts or triggering things, but I can control myself better and watch some positive videos instead. Aside from that, I journal every day: I write down what I ate, my physical activity, what I saw as memorable in my day, and more.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

That's pretty much all for the life update. I still left out a lot that I failed to remember while writing or felt too tired to write about, and I bet not a lot of you are interested in any of this anyway. I just felt like I owed everyone an explanation of where I've been and why I haven't been reblogging much or writing.

As I've stated a few times before, I don't know yet when I will get back into writing or posting content. And the past months made me realise that it might be good for myself if I take some time away from Tumblr: I won't be able to look for triggering content, won't be able to trigger anyone else on accident and can focus on working towards my goals.

I hate the word hiatus but I think this means that I will be going on semi-hiatus. On good days, I might still come here to talk to my mutuals or reblog some kpop content that I enjoy. But other times, I probably won't respond or interact much as I'm logged out.

For now, my semi-hiatus will continue until mid to end September. This might be shortened or extended depending on my progress and my personal needs.

Have a lovely day, moonflowers! 💌

[shadowhuntertrash]

High Notes

Relationships:

Thomas x Alastair

Matthew x James

Background Lucie x Jesse

Obviously Cassandra Clare owns characters and everything.

Chapter Five

 Thomas thought he might die if he had to sing the same songs one more time today. Cordelia and Lucie had gone to practice in a studio a floor above them and Alastair had gone to rehearse for about an hour before he was whisked away for his first pop up concert at a bar about ten minutes away. 

   The boys were currently taking a break. Christopher was drinking from his half empty water bottle and Matthew was sitting on a wooden stool talking animatedly about the tour to James who was listening with a wide smile.

   Thomas looked down at his guitar and opened his song book. He flipped to the page where he had written the song about Alastair. He hadn’t given it a name yet but he started messing with some chords until he had a short song. He started strumming softly and singing under his breath. 

 

And baby when you sleep, do you dream of me?

And when you're awake, do you think of me?

I need to know, how do you feel?

 

Cause baby when I sleep, I dream of you

And when I'm awake, that's all I do

Think about every detail you have

 

Do you notice when I get mad, I clench my jaw?

Do you notice when I get sad, I tend to fall?

Look at my words I say to you

 

Cause I notice when you get mad

You close your eyes

And I notice when you are sad

You let out sighs

 

I need to know are those sighs ever over me?

 

Do you know how in love with you

I am

Do you see how in love with you

I am

 

Everything that you do, it makes my heart stop

Oh, it stops

And baby when you sleep, do you dream of me?

 

   Thomas stops strumming and leans over to write some notes in his notebook. He always teaked chords about twenty times before he was happy with it. He had managed to capture his feelings about Alastair through the lyrics. How he noticed all the small things that Alastair did and how he hoped Alastair did the same things.

   How Alastair had the innate ability to make his heart stop when he came near him, or how ninety percent of his dreams revolved around him. Thomas didn’t realize he was smiling brightly until James spoke up. “Thomas, did you write that about Alastair?” 

   Thomas looked up and blushed. “Um, yeah. It’s not very good and it’s kinda short so we don’t have to play it or anything obviously I was just messing around.” Matthew rolled his eyes before saying, more exasperated than anything Thomas had heard him say before, “Tommy, we love all of your songs you know this. Stop being self conscious about them, they're amazing.” Tomas blushed again and laughed nervously.

   “Thomas,” Christopher said and everyone looked over at him. He was looking at Thomas with a calculating expression. “What if you sang that at one of our concerts? It doesn’t have to be the first one or anything, but one it would change things up, and two, our fans have never heard you sing. They would lose their minds.” James and Matthew’s faces light up. “Oh my god yes! That’s perfect Thomas you have to!” James said excitedly.

   “I could play the piano for it! Thomas it would be perfect!” Thomas was a blushing stuttering mess at this point. “Are you guys kidding? No! I would freeze in front of everyone! Not to mention Alastair would be there and I wrote it for him and I do not by any means want him to hear it!” The other boys groan and Christopher gives him a pointed look.

   “Just think about it.” Thomas sighed. “Kit-” Christopher shook his head. “No, I’m serious. Promise us you’ll think about it.” Thomas looked at all of them. Each of them wearing a desperate expression. Thomas threw his head back and groaned loudly. “Fine. I’ll think about it, but no promises guys.” They all smile at him. 

   “Yes!” Kit said excitedly. Matthew and James high five and Thomas rolls his eyes. Matthew turns to him expectantly. “Do you have any other new songs Thomas?” Thomas nods his head and picks up his notebook again, this time tossing it to Matthew. He was protective of his songwriting journal but he didn’t mind it those three looked at it.

   “What if we learned some songs and performed a new one every concert?” James asked and Matthew tapped the side of his noise. Thomas laughed, those two and their same thought process could be damned. 

   Thomas shrugged. “I don’t care, we can do that if you want.” The boys all nod and Matthew smiles. “I’m gonna go make some copies of this so James and Christopher can read it.” Matthew says standing up. Thomas nods. “Knock yourself out.” He said plucking the song again.

   Matthew came back five minutes later. “Ya know Thomas, I have a really good feeling about these songs. The lyrics are all so good.” Thomas laughed. “Thanks, let’s get started.” And with that, they go back to rehearsing.

 

   They met up with the girls for lunch after about around two more hours of practicing. Lucie was beaming speaking quickly, the way she always did when she was excited. Matthew and Cordelia were listening with rapt attention. James, Christopher, and Thomas were talking about songs. Christopher and James were pestering Thomas about singing again.

   “What are you talking about?” Lucie said, abruptly turning her, Matthew, and Cordelia’s attention to the other three. “Thomas has a few songs that are really good that we want him to sing on tour with us but he’s ‘considering’ it.” Christopher said, using air quotations to emphasize that Thomas was not, in fact, considering it.

   “Oh I think you should.” A deep voice said from behind him. Thomas turned to look at Alastair as he slumped into the chair next to him. He had a huge smile on and was practically radiating energy. Thomas bumped his shoulder with his own, “How was the show?” 

   Alastair’s smile was blinding. “It was so amazing. I’d almost forgotten how it felt. Everyone was screaming, singing, jumping. Surprisingly a lot of people knew about me and the word spread fast.” Alastair laughed and Thomas smiled at him. He loved when Alastair was excited. He so rarely saw it.

   “But really Thomas, you should sing at the concerts. The fans would go nuts.” Thomas groaned at the return of the conversation he didn’t want to have. “Maybe they would but they all love Matthew and I don’t want them to be disappointed that he isn’t singing.” Matthew rolled his eyes and reached over the table to flick Thomas’ forehead from the spot across from him. Thomas huffed and rubbed his forehead.

   “They aren’t going to be disappointed Tom. Your new songs are really good, and you have an amazing voice. If anything they’ll ask you to sing more.” Matthew said glaring at Thomas, daring him with a look to contradict him again. Alastair turned to Thomas, “New songs?” He asked quietly. Thomas just nodded glaring down at his salad. 

   “What are they about.” Alastair asked innocently, blissfully unaware of how strongly that affected Thomas. Thomas’ face caught fire and he made a sheepish sound. “Umm, I mean, a bunch of different things I guess. One’s about my sister, a few about a guy. I don’t know different things I guess.” 

   Thomas looks up to wide eyes and is momentarily confused until he realizes what he just said. He was about to stutter out an excuse when Alastair tilts his head and looks at him contemplatively. “You’re gay?” Thomas groans and puts his head in his hands, sliding down in his seat as far as he could. It didn’t help hide his face though, not with his too tall frame.

   “That slipped out, kindly ignore that.” Alastair laughed and shook his head. “No way am I ignoring that but I won’t bring it up.” He said emphasizing it with a wink that made Thomas want the floor to swallow him whole. Thomas felt like his whole body was hot. “You’re not telling anyone.” Matthew said with a hint of threatening finality in his voice. Alastair looked at Matthew annoyed, “Obviously Fairchild. I’m not going to out him.” Matthew just rolled his eyes and slumped against James who was currently looking at something on his phone.

   Alastair turned back to Thomas about to say something when James made an alarmed sound before proceeding to choke on his sandwich. Matthew turned around looking at him concerned before hitting his back roughly. James stopped choking and grabbed the water Lucie was offering him. “Jesus Jamie are you okay?” Matthew asked concern in his voice. James ignored him and glared at Thomas.

   “Thomas Lightwood how dare you not tell us!” Everyone looked at Thomas confused and he stared at James in equal confusion. “Excuse me?” Thomas asked uncomfortably. What had he not told them? James’ eyes narrowed further. “You’re sister! Barbara? Anything you wish to share?” Thomas barked a laugh rolling his eyes. “James, she wanted to tell people.” James stuck his tongue out. “That doesn’t mean you can just not tell us! We’re family!”

   Lucie cut in, “I’m sorry we seem to be missing a large portion of this conversation.” She said gesturing to the rest of them. Thomas smiled at her. “Oliver proposed to Barbara.” Matthew, Christopher, Lucie, and Cordelia all burst into excited chatter and Thomas laughs pulling out his phone.

   He called Barbara who answered on the second ring. “Hey Tommy!” She said in his ear. He laughed, “They just found out Ollie proposed.” He said referring to her fiance by his nickname Barbara had given him when she was pining over him before they started dating. He heard her laugh and then moved his phone to the middle of the table so she could hear.

   He took it back after about twenty seconds. Alastair leaned over to him and Thomas felt his breath catch. Alastair was so close his lips were only centimeters away from Thomas’ cheek. Alastair stared Thomas in the eyes as he did so before whispering quietly, “Hello Barbara.” And moving back. Thomas let out a quick and shaky huff. “Who was that?” Barbara questioned over the phone. “Alastair.” Thomas said in a weak voice. Barbara squealed slightly, “Oh! Tell him I said hi and put my on speaker phone. I want to talk to Lucie.” Thomas did so.

   Lucie took the phone excitedly all but screaming into it when she got it. Thomas laughed and turned to Alastair who had an unreadable expression on. “Barabara said hello to you too.” Thomas said, leaning away from Christopher who was talking excitedly with his whole body. Thomas had learned it was safest to get out of arm's reach when Christopher got like this.

   It just so happened that he was leaning halfway on top of Alastair who was smirking at him. Thomas huffed and went to move back right as Christopher brought his hand, now in a fist, back. Christopher punched him in the face and Thomas let out a startled yelp falling back on Alastair.

  Christopher looked at him guiltily. “Sorry Tommy.” He said frowning at Thomas’ cheek, which was now red. Thomas shook his head moving his jaw. “Christopher you are the only person I know who could accidentally punch someone in the face.” Lucie said looking at Thomas concerned. 

   Thomas felt something squirm beneath him and moved to get off, now acutely aware that he had fallen in Alastair’s lap. Alastair’s arms wrapped around Thomas’ waist, pulling his back down. He kept one arm around Thomas in an iron grip, the other going up to Thomas’ jaw to look at it. Thomas kept squirming, growing increasingly more uncomfortable. 

   Alastair let out an aggravated groan. “Lightwood stop moving. I’m just trying to see your jaw so would you please stop squirming.” Thomas sighed and stopped moving, his entire body was tensed. Alastiar relaxed his grip and let his hand rest on Thomas’ hip. Thomas felt as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a week, his throat was so dry.

   After what felt like ages, Alastair dropped his hand from where it had been cupping Thomas’ jaw. “It’ll bruise but you’ll be okay.” Thomas rolled his eyes and got up, only slightly disappointed that Alastair hadn’t stopped him again.

   “I’m going to get a coffee. Anyone want anything?” Thomas asks looking around the table, there was a chorus of no’s. Thomas nods and turns around, instead of going to the counter though he goes outside. It had been much too claustrophobic in there and the cool air from outside had made Thomas feel as if he could finally breathe. 

   He had dealt with anxiety for as long as he could remember. That tended to happen when you grew up listening to bullies and always waiting to be messed with. Thomas shuddered at the thought and turned his head slightly as two who were staring in the window of the shop started squealing. “It is them! I told you Jesslyn! It’s all three bands! Oh my god it’s Alastair!” A girl with hair so blonde it looked white said.

   Thomas rolled his eyes, Alastair’s fans tended to find him wherever he went. The other girl, who had bubblegum pink hair laughed. “You and your love for Alastair! I’m much more excited to see Matthew. I swear we’re soulmates.” Thomas smirked at that. It was common knowledge for anyone that had ever met him that Matthew was one hundred percent head over heels for James. If they didn’t end up together (which Thomas knew for a fact they would) Matthew would end up alone.

   “Where’s Thomas?” The blonde one said, Thomas was about to say something when the pink haired girl laughed. “Maybe they finally got rid of him. God knows no one likes him, maybe they finally came to their senses.” Thomas felt a chill settle in his bones. He was well aware of the fact that he was probably the least loved by their fans (there were hundreds of posts and comments that proved that correct) but to hear it said aloud hurt him more than he would admit.

   The blonde girl shovered her friend playfully but laughed. They walked into the cafe, probably hoping to talk to his friends inside but Thomas just huffed and walked away. He wasn’t in the mood for company right now. He pulled his phone out to let Matthew know he wasn’t coming back right now and was only vaguely surprised that he already had a  few texts from him.

 

Matthew Unfairchild:

You okay?

 

Matthew Unfairchild:

You don’t look so good.

 

Matthew Unfairchild:

Where are you going?

 

Matthew Unfairchild:

Tommy?

 

   Thomas sighs and sends Matthew a text before turning his phone off completely walking quickly, trying to shake off my thoughts.

 

Tommy:

I’m fine, I just need a minute. I’ll be back in 20 minutes.

 

   Thomas keeps walking, playing the girl’s words in his head over and over. Maybe they finally got rid of them, god knows no one likes him, maybe they finally came to their senses. Thomas can feel himself shaking. Is that what everyone thought of him? Do his band mates think of him like that? He knew logically that they didn’t and they wouldn’t be a band without him but he couldn’t help the thoughts slipping through.

   Thomas was brought back to his senses when he felt a hand grab his arm. Thomas let out a pathetic whimper that only made his anxiety shoot up even more. “Let go!” He gasped pulling his hand away and stumbling when the person let him go abruptly. “Lightwood it’s just me! Calm down!” Thomas looked at him and was aware that he knew the person standing in front of him but his brain was still short circuiting and he couldn’t quite place them.

   “Thomas are you alright?” Thomas stumbles back again shaking his head. He turns abruptly and walks down a small alley that sits between two buildings. He turns at the end and slides down the back wall of the building. He was aware the person was still with him but he was too focused on trying to calm himself down to care.

   The person sits next to him and puts their hand on Thomas’ knee. “You’re okay Thomas. Is this a panic attack?” Thomas felt himself nodding before he processed the words. The person rubbed his knee comfortingly. “Okay, that’s okay. It’s just me, Alastair. We’re behind a fishing shop. Dreadfully awful place if I do say so myself. Smells too much like fish.” Thomas felt himself give a breathless laugh despite himself.

   Of course it was Alastair who found him. He had no idea why the world hated him so much but he couldn’t bring himself to be too mad because at least someone was here. Thomas was still shaking uncontrollably, he was starting to get light headed and cursed himself for not realizing sooner that he wasn’t breathing right. Alastair’s hand stopped rubbing gently and instead grasped Thomas’ knee tightly.

   “Thomas, you need to breathe. What do you want me to do.” Thomas shook his head and gasped loudly. Come on Thomas breathe, he told himself. He hated this part, being aware of what was happening but being far too gone to really control it. “A-Alastair.” Thomas stuttered attempting to undo the top buttons of his shirt with shaky hands. Stupid button ups.

   Alastair was kneeling in front of him within seconds, gently tugging Thomas’ hands down. “Thomas breathe. Please breathe.” He said urgently undoing the top buttons of Thomas’ shirt with minimal difficulty. Thomas gasped as if unbuttoning the shirt had really helped him breathe. Thomas was too aware of the fact that his heart was beating too hard and the ground was disgusting. 

   He groaned and reached out to Alastair who took his hands easily, his thumbs drawing soothing circles over Thomas’ hands. Thomas let his head fall on Alastiar’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as his head went with it. He focused on the rising and falling trying to match his breaths, which were still coming much too fast, with Alastairs.

   His breathing was almost matched with Alastair’s when he realized that one of Alastiar’s hands had come up to his head and his thumb was now rubbing circles behind Thomas’ ear. Thomas found that that was all it took to calm him down the rest of the way.

   He was still shaking, something he had gotten used to after having so many panic attacks. He let his head rest on Alastair’s chest a moment longer, trying to gather his thoughts and debating if he wanted to apologize or just pretend it hadn’t happened at all.

   He pulled his head back, deciding to just apologize, and let the building hold him up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see that.” Thomas said softly looking at the ground, playing with a pebble. Alastair shook his head quickly. “Thomas don’t apologize for that. Please don’t apologize for that. Are you okay?” 

   Thomlas let out a shaky breath. ”I’m fine. Thank you.” Alastair smiles softly at him. “Anytime. Does that happen often?” Thomas bit his lip and looked away. He didn’t really want to tell Alastair that it did indeed happen quite often, but he couldn’t lie. Not to Alastair.

   “Yeah but it's fine.” Alastair shook his head sadly. “That’s not fine Thomas. If you don’t mind me asking, what set it off.” It occurred to Thomas then, that Alastair had been referring to him as Thomas and not as Lightwood. “Um, just some people outside. Have you been calling me Thomas?” Alastair let out a nervous laugh and Thomas could have sworn that he was blushing.

   “Yes? You weren’t reacting well to Lightwood and Thomas was calming you down a little.” Thomas nodded. That made sense, he hadn’t been very aware when Alastair had called him Lightwood so it had confused him. “Yeah, I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking straight.” Alastair rolled his eyes an amused smile gracing his lips, something Thomas was desperately trying not to stare at.

   “After what you said earlier I can see how thinking straight would be a problem.” Thomas stared at him for a minute and Alastair’s face fell a little before Thomas surprised him by bursting into laughter. “Did- did you just make a joke about me beng gay?” Thomas said through his laughter. Alastair looked proud, “Yes I did.” Thomas just laughed harder, Alastair joined in.

   After a few minutes Alastair stood up and reached his hand out to Thomas who took it gratefully. Alastair helped him up and Thomas swayed slightly on his still shaky legs. Alastair reached out to steady him but Thomas batted his hands away. “I’m fine.” He said proudly.

   Alastair rolled his eyes, “Of course, don’t know why I tried.” He said moving closer so he could catch Thomas if the need arose. Thomas rolled his eyes and took a couple shaky steps forward. “What time is it?” He asked Alastair who pulled out his phone with a raised eyebrow. “It’s 5:15.” Thomas cursed, he had told Matthew twenty minutes but it had already been almost forty. He walked faster, Alastair jogging to keep up.

   “Lightwood would you please slow down? You may have freakishly long legs, but those of us  with normal legs cannot walk as fast as you, you plasted giant.” Thomas laughed and slowed down so Alastair wasn’t running anymore. “If you call your legs normal I would hate to see what short looks like. Alastair grinned and shook his head.

   He stared at Thomas for a while, his face switching back and forth between slight expressions and expressionless. Thomas took that time to stare at Alastair in response. 

   He looked at Alastair’s eyes, those pretty dark eyes that Thomas swore he could get lost in at any point. His hair, which Thomas almost found himself angry with. Why would he want to hide something so beautiful. Why would he want to dye it something so common, when his dark hair was anything but? Thomas felt his eyes go to Alastiar’s lips unconsciously. Thomas spent so many years wondering what it would be like to kiss Alastair. He wondered how soft Alastair’s full lips would be. He wondered what it would feel like to feel Alastair smile against his mouth.

   He hadn’t realized they were leaning in until he heard someone laughing and turned to see Lucie turning the corner. Matthew was ahead of the group and was standing there with his mouth open staring at the two of them.

   Thomas felt his face heat up and he pulled away hastily. Was he really about to kiss Alastair? Had Alastair really been about to kiss him? He turned away and cleared his throat, glancing at Alastair out of the corner of his eye. Alastair had his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Thomas shook his head and walked towards Matthew.

   He couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on, his head too caught up in the fact that he was about ninety percent sure that he had almost kissed Alastair. What just happened?

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Fifteen | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 4,300

Chapter 15/24

Warnings: Language, PTSD symptoms, lots of angst, Bucky is sad, allusions to horrible war time, self-loathing, etc.

AN: It’s hard to articulate exactly why this chapter was so hard for me to write. My own mental health played a big part in it, but there was something deeper I was forced to work through when confronted with their heavy conversation. Forever shoutout to my relentless cheerleader @lucyyannabel.  I’m blessed to have @barnesrogersvstheworld in my life, who put a finger on my doubts and worries of this chapter and gently shooed them away. May we all have an Attie in our life who so ardently tells you how valuable and loved you are. And you are, Reader. I promise. Love you.

 Chapter Fourteen

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

“Chevrolet Corporate, Anderson’s desk, how may I help you?” you rattle off into your desk phone’s handset, distracted by the rough draft of a memo your boss had tossed on your desk with little instruction.

“Hey, baby.”

The paper falls from your fingertips. “Buc-? Hi, wh- are you okay?”

You hear a sigh and then, “Sorry to call you at work, I know it could get you in trouble. Wanted to catch you early.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t answered your question. “What can I do for you today, sir?” You phrase the question again, warily eyeing Flannery across the office.

“‘M gonna have to bow out of dinner tonight. I know it’s my second time this week, I’m just absolutely beat, think I may be getting sick. I’m leaving work right now. Wouldn’t be much fun company.”

“Oh,” you deflate in your chair. “We’re sorry to hear that, sir. Is there anything we could do to accommodate you? Perhaps an alteration to the proposed agenda?”

“I don’t think so. Just wanna be home and go to sleep. I’m sorry, I know we haven’t seen each other this week. I’ll make it up to you.”

You keep your voice professional, shoving down your disappointment. “There’s no need for that, sir. I’ll make note of the change in schedule and be in touch at a later date to confirm with your office.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Feel better,” you whisper before setting the receiver down. Something in his tone haunts you the rest of the morning and well into the lunch hour. You don’t hear the break room’s topic of debate as you push your leftovers aimlessly around your pyrex. A bitter taste had settled in your mouth after the unexpected phone call.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Suzy slides into the seat next to you, sounding too casual for your taste.

“Got a lot on my mind.” You chew another mouthful of fruit in contemplation.

“This have to do with your dreamboat?”

“I’m really not in the mood today, Suze.”

“That’s fine. But are you okay?”

Chewing your lip, you turn to her. Her red curls had a little extra bounce but her eyes betrayed her concern for you. “Not really. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s not right with him. I can’t shake the idea that he’s avoiding me.”

“Did anything specific happen? You guys have a fight?”

“No fighting. . . though he acted strangely after our last date.”

“Strange how?”

The yellow and orange leaves beneath your feet had a distinct crunch to them synonymous with the time of year. It had been a standard evening out for the two of you: comfort food from the diner, a shared piece of pie, and a stroll along the streets. Now that the temperature had been dropping slowly, you could nestle closer to each other.

“‘M just saying, you’ve picked the pie the last few times, I’m past due to choose the flavor.”

“But Bucky, you pick blackberry every time, I’m giving us some variety!” you protested.

“Why would you stray from a pie that never fails you? One that never gives up, that truly strives to be its best for us-”

“Are you eating this pie or marrying it?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

Your giggles and his chuckles echoed, the street lamps lighting your way home.

“I don’t know why you’re with me then, sounds like pie is your true-”

A loud pop shattered the peace of the night and Bucky went rigid. Before you knew what was happening a shove knocked the breath out of you and you ended up several steps behind your boyfriend. He’d grabbed a pipe out of a nearby trash can, ready to wield it against anyone.

“Buck, it’s okay.” You reached out to grab his shoulder and he immediately jerked away from you, chest heaving. “Hon, it was just a car back-firing.”

His eyes were wide and terrified, grip tight on the pipe.

“We’re okay, Buck. We’re safe, nothing is going to hurt us.”

“Right. Sorry. That . . . was an overreaction.”

“You alright?” you stepped toward him. “I know you-”

He took a surreptitious step backward. “I’m fine, uh. . . yeah, I’m fine. Oh, and your door’s right here.”

“Bucky, you’re not-”

“I’m good, really. I’ll see you in a few days, right? Hope you sleep well.”

Decidedly distracted, he brushed his lips against your forehead and took off down the street, loosening his tie. Watching him leave kicked up a storm of confusion in your mind.

“And I haven’t seen him since,” you conclude, leaning forward to put your head in your hands.

The gentle hand on your back surprises you but you don’t shy away from the comfort. “It’s gonna be okay, babydoll. We all go through stuff, sounds like his stuff is a little heavy right now.”

“Then why isn’t he asking me to help?”

That’s the question still on your mind when you get home from work that night and make a call to Steve and Bucky’s apartment.

“Sorry ma’am, no one’s answering at the residence,” the operator drones in your ear. “Is there another number you’d like me to call?”

“No, thank you.” You stare at the telephone as if it had personally offended you, eyebrows knit closely together, arms crossed.

Somewhere in the space of the last three weeks you had messed up, done something to send Bucky running for the hills. You wrack your brain for an explanation, an event or conversation that was even the slightest bit terse. Coming up empty you sigh and force yourself to continue about your evening.

One day passes with no word from Bucky.

Another day goes by silently.

At the end of the third day you find yourself staring at the phone again, debating your next move. 

A girl was allowed to call her boyfriend, right? Especially after not having seen each other in a while, at least to say hi and catch up on the day - and he said he was sick, surely it was alright, even expected to check on him. You reach for the handset. 

Then again, he’d clearly been sending signals that something wasn’t right, perhaps you should just leave it alone. You snatch your hand back to yourself, drawing it up to pick at your lip nervously. 

But Steve, on the other hand. . .

Shockingly, the line connects.

“Hullo?”

“Steve? It’s me.”

“Hey,” Steve’s voice warms, “you wanna talk to Buck?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay. What’s going on?”

You twist a finger around the phone cord, digging for the right words. “Is Bucky okay?”

“‘Okay’?” you can practically see his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“I’m not sure why, but he’s been distant over the last few weeks. I don’t know if it’s me or what, but is he safe? Is he okay?”

“He’s, uh. . .” Steve lowers his voice. “He’s been better. Seems to be having a tough time. I thought you knew that, though.”

“No, I haven’t seen him for two weeks.”

“Really?” Clearly as shocked as you were, his tone turns suspicious. “He’s been avoiding me too. In passing he mentioned that his classes have been giving him some trouble, but I figured he’d seek you out with help on that.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me too.”

“Huh. Thanks for letting me know, lemme see what I can do from my end. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thank you, Steve. That makes me feel better.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself, okay?”

With a smile you bid him goodbye and hang up, hoping he could make some headway.

-x-

Bucky hears Steve hang up the phone and hopes to God he’s not in for a well-meaning chit-chat.

But of course, a knock comes on Bucky’s cracked-open door, and he can’t really deny Steve entrance. Turning back to the pile of classwork on his desk, Bucky busies himself with a half-finished essay. His friend perches against the dresser, ankles and arms crossed.

Bucky scratches absentmindedly at some stubble on his cheek before grunting, “Whaddya want, Steve?”

“Your girl just called. Said she hasn’t heard from you. She’s worried.”

“Been busy.”

“That’s bullshit.” The pencil in Bucky’s hand snaps in two and he forces himself to let go of the pieces and keep his hands flexed open. “What happened, Buck?”

The aftermath of the nightmare - the first that had plagued him in several months - comes back to Bucky. He’d woken in a cold sweat, hands shaking violently, head pounding. Banging out of his room he’d sprinted for the bathroom faucet, dousing his face in ice cold water to shock his senses back to him. Light sleeper that he was, Steve was there in seconds. Bucky had snapped at him when asked what was wrong, had told him to leave him be. He should’ve known Steve wouldn’t leave it for long.

With effort, Bucky spits out, “The day we took Fischer down.” Any additional detail would have been Bucky’s undoing; he knew Steve could connect the dots.

The blond brings up a hand to cover his mouth, heaving a deep breath. “Yeah, that one’s given me nightmares too.”

“Does it? You don’t show it.”

“We’ve pretended not to hear each others’ nightmares for a long time, pal, no use continuing that charade.”

Silence stretches between them for several minutes. Bucky stewing, Steve waiting.

“Why was it them and not us, Steve?”

Steve knew ‘them’ wasn’t just the girl at the church, wasn’t attached to a singular person or event - ‘them’ stood for every life lost in the war that had stripped the world bare of too many things to count.

“I wish I could tell you.”

Clearing the emotion from his throat, Bucky’s next question surprises Steve. “How do you not let it eat you up?”

Shaking his head, Steve replies, “Some days it does. You know I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, but I try to talk about it. With you, with Peg, sometimes one of the other guys. If you let it stay in your head, it only grows bigger.”

“I don’t know if I can do that right now.”

“That’s okay. And it doesn’t have to be me you talk to if you don’t want. But do me a favor?”

Bucky finally shifts in his chair to look Steve directly in the eye, lifting a brow as if to ask “And what would that favor be?”

“Don’t shut her out. You know you can’t scare her away. Obviously she wants to be part of your life, so let her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

As messed up as I am, is it fair to her to drag her down with me?

-x-

Bucky was grateful for the quiet apartment - Steve was away on business, his classwork was in a lull, and the day’s work had drained him. All he wanted was to eat and fall into bed. The thought of skipping another meal tempted him as he dreamed of what could possibly be a restful night of sleep.

Soft knocks at the front door startle him away from his bedroom. Slowly, he steps to the door in socked feet. Pressing an eye to the peephole, his heart drops into his stomach and threatens to pound right out of his body. You’re waiting on the other side, fiddling with something in your hands. 

You look nervous.

“Bucky?” How could a voice feel like home but also make him dizzy with anxiety? Letting his forehead rest against the door, he realizes how much he’s missed the sound.

He can feel the second rap of knuckles reverberate through his head. Your voice wraps around him again.

Open the door, Barnes. She’s right there. You need her. 

Shame whispers, “But does she need you as a burden? Does she need this broken man in her life?”

A voice that sounded like Steve urges him to open the door, to let himself be vulnerable. 

The doorknob tenses under his grip.

But he doesn’t move. He can’t.

“I don’t know if you’re even home right now, but uh. . .” he hears you sniffle, prompting his eye to focus again on the peephole. You wipe at your cheek - Bucky convinces himself it couldn’t be because of him. “I got something for ya. You mentioned in one of your letters that writing things down cleared your mind, helped you move past things. And while I don’t really know if you’re going through something or just want to be alone for whatever reason. . . I just hope this helps.”

You stoop down, setting whatever you’d been holding against the door. Straightening, you turn to leave, pause, then face the door again. “I miss you, ya know.”

Hesitant footsteps retreat down the breezeway, your tread easy and familiar in his mind.

Only after counting out a few minutes Bucky cracks the door open. A small packages falls to his feet with a surprisingly solid thud. He nudges the door closed and pulls at the twine, then the brown paper wrapping.

Shaky fingers feel at the strong, yet simple leather cover of a journal. He flips through the unlined pages, mind reeling at your memory of something he couldn’t recall mentioning to you. Forcing air into his lungs he cradles the book as if it were a priceless artifact; maybe for him it was.

Opening to the first page his eyes are immediately drawn to black ink, to your familiar handwriting.

Whether it’s with me or without me, I hope you find peace.

You’d left your initials beneath the note, as if he ever would have questioned whose hand had written the inscription. He lets out a humorless laugh before his knees weaken. Letting himself be taken to the floor, he leans against the door, clutching the journal to his chest.

And on the floor of his empty apartment where he wept the full anguish of his soul, it was a lifeline.

-x-

This was a bad idea. I should go home. This is stupid. 

Bucky’s foot taps against the sidewalk outside of your work building impatiently. He’d been there a few minutes already, knowing your schedule like the back of his hand. A deep urge to finally speak with you had brought him this far, though he was fighting the pull to run back home.

Just as he had convinced himself to turn around, you emerge from the front door and he’s frozen in place.

The notion of home floats through his mind as he watches you, hair only slightly rumpled from your day of work. Poised, graceful as ever, a true striking presence on the sidewalk - earning more turned heads than you would ever be aware of. 

So focused on making sure your hat was perfectly in place, you don’t notice Bucky until he’s right next to you. 

“Hi,” his mind goes blank as he stares into your eyes, wide as dinner plates at his sudden appearance.

“Bucky. . . uh, hi,” you stammer. “Wh-what’re you-”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Y-yeah, absolutely.”

Together, you traverse the deeply familiar path home, though a pace apart. 

“How’s the family?” you ask, reaching for an innocuous subject to fill the dead air.

“Uh, good. I’ve missed the last few Sunday dinners, but I assume everything is fine.”

“Oh.”

“Are you - you doing alright?”

“I’m . . . okay. Been a long few weeks.”

He watches the ground as you walk, the click of your heels on pavement bringing sweeter memories to the forefront of his mind. But then the rhythmic sound stops and he looks up, shocked to see your apartment. You’ve turned to face him and his eyes are drawn to how you’re picking at your cuticles.

“Can we sit?” you motion to the brick steps leading up to your door. He nods and you perch on the stairs, closer to each other than you’d been for weeks. “Bucky. . .” 

“Yeah?”

“I. . .” you turn your eyes back to your fiddling fingers in your lap. “I just need to know if this,” you gesture between you, “is over so I can not think of you as mine anymore. If it is, I can handle it and move on.”

Bucky’s mouth hangs open, at a loss for words. You take that as a cue to continue.

“But if this isn’t over. . . you don’t have to meet my parents next month, if that freaked you out. Or if I came on too strong when you got back from Pennsylvania, I can back off. Just. . .” your eyes finally move to meet his and the uncertainty in them was foreign to him, “tell me what I did wrong so I don’t do it again?”

His mind reels as he sits back to take a long look at you. You were serious. You genuinely thought this was a result of something you’d done - but why would you think any differently?

You don’t know how not seeing you left an aching hole in his chest. You don’t know how often he thought of you, how many times he’d frozen when the operator had asked who he’d wanted to be connected to only to hang up. You don’t know about the wad of cash in his sock drawer for which he had sparkling ambitions. Without knowing that, what other conclusion were you supposed to draw?

“I’m such an ass,” he mutters aloud, much to your furthered confusion. After dragging hands harshly down his face he threads his fingers in yours. “Sweetheart, this hasn’t been about you, not in the slightest.”

“Then what is it about? If it wasn’t something I did, what happened?” Your grip on his hands almost breaks his heart completely - like you were scared he’d bolt if you let go.

Words stick in his throat and he swallows in an attempt to dislodge the lump that had formed there. 

“Buck, it’s me. You can say it.”

“I. . . I don’t even know where I’d start.”

“The beginning?” you gently suggest.

At your urging, he begins haltingly, stumbling over words, hoping he was making some kind of sense. “Uhhh. The night after we spent the day at the garage together. I had a nightmare, a memory of being in Europe. A young woman died - she died because of me. It felt like I was there again. I could feel the cold air and the smell of. . . I relived it that night. The days seemed to get worse after that.”

Details begin to spill from his lips - slowly, then all at once. Things he couldn’t have recalled if asked suddenly were toppling into your lap, unorganized, bloody, and heavy. He recounts the sleepless nights, the images seared in his brain from the battlefront, the components of war rarely shared with civilians that had taken a good portion of his innocence and good conscience.

Pausing, he clears his throat and scratches his chin. “It’s hard to talk about,” he admits in a low voice.

You’ve been silent, but present until this moment. “I know. Thank you for sharing with me.”

“The last few weeks have been a fight between wanting - no, needing - you to bring some light into my life; and living in fear that my darkness may snuff your own light out. I can’t take you down with me, you don’t deserve that.”

“Don’t I get a say in it?”

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he withdraws a hand from yours to dash at them. “I hate this,” he sniffles. “I thought I was getting better, that this was behind me. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what, being human?”

“For being like this when my life has gotten better. I’ve been home for so long, I should be past this by now.”

Your hands are on his cheeks, tilting his head to look into your eyes again. “Says who? Honey, things like this, it’s not a simple trip from point A to point B. This kind of healing takes time. And a backslide isn’t an indicator of failure.”

“Sure feels like I failed at something.”

“But you haven’t,” you insist firmly. He doesn’t respond and you pull your hands away, hesitantly grasping his again. “Why haven’t you been home to see your family?” you ask after a few moments of reflection.

“The girl I . . . that. . . she reminds me of my sisters. It’s hard to look at them and not see her after. . . it happened. I don’t want to attach that memory to them more than it already is.”

Your chest heaves with a long breath as if you were preparing to dive into deep water. “Your time serving, the things you saw. . . they affected you. You have to admit that.”

“It bothers me, sure, but I didn’t come back wounded. I made it in one piece, I don’t have a reason for being this shaken by it.”

“Just because you’re physically safe doesn’t mean your mind didn’t take on injuries. You’ve been through so much-”

Brusquely, he cuts you off. “My mind is fine. I’m not a coward.”

“Bucky, I know that. Everyone knows that. This isn’t about cowardice or weak minds, or whatever nonsense doctors and generals say it is. To survive what you have, to have made so much progress to get to a place where you’re working and taking care of yourself. . . it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. You’ve chosen a career path. You’re almost done with the training while juggling two jobs, family, and a demanding girlfriend.” Both his lips and yours twitch at your teasing. Then you soften again. “You know I’ve seen this up-close with my uncle. You’re not alone and you’re not crazy.” 

Bucky’s face must have mirrored the doubt he felt inside. 

“You said Steve has episodes too right?” He nods. “Do you think that he has a weak moral character? This man, who you think the world of - do you consider him mentally fragile? No,” you answer for him as he can only shake his head. “Then why would you flip that onto yourself? Why would Steve’s hand-picked second-in-command be considered weak? You wouldn’t because you’re not.”

He couldn’t think of an argument against that - but you took his silence to be dubious.

Your voice is hesitant, unsure. “They do have psychiatric hospitals-”

“I’m not desperate enough for that.” The second the words left his mouth he hears how harsh they sound.

“Do you have to be desperate to ask for help?”

“I shouldn’t need help!” he exclaims suddenly. “Other men came back fine, Dad never went through this. I don’t know how to be this way without feeling like shit about myself. Besides, from the stories I’ve heard, what they do is more similar to torture than treatment.”

You’ve shrunken back, shoulders hunched forward as if to ward off his tone. “Okay. I won’t mention it again. I’m sorry.”

“No,” he huffs in frustration. “I should be the one that’s sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve been to hell and back which would make anyone’s soul weary. Please be kinder to yourself.”

“I don’t deserve your kindness, let alone my own. But for some reason, Sixth Floor, you’re giving it to me in spades. I don’t understand.”

“Caring for someone doesn’t always entail what they deserve - but I assure you, you are absolutely deserving of all the patience and gentleness. You are one of the most noble men I’ve ever known.” If the conviction in your voice hadn’t rung so clear, he’d think you were full of it.

“How can you still say that after how I’ve treated you?” He doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to lose you baby, I just, I lo. . . I love you too much. And the thought of having pushed you away makes me sick, but I won’t blame you for walking away because of how I’ve acted.”

A sad smile crosses your face as you press your forehead to his before whispering fiercely, “Love isn’t a feeling, it’s an action. I love you to the very bottom of my heart, James. Can you let me love you? Let me show you? I want to be here, if you’ll have me.”

With most of his energy channeled containing sobs, he offers a nod. Leaning in to each other, your lips unite for the first time in too long - earnest, sweet love mingled with relief pours between you. 

Pulling back only slightly, Bucky’s blue eyes search your own. “I missed you,” he murmurs roughly as his thumb wipes away a tear from your chin. 

“I missed you, too,” you return as the pads of your fingers swipe against his wet cheeks.

He lets that settle on his bones for future nights where he may hear whispers of doubt about you and your devotion.

“I wanna get better for you, darling.” He meant it sweet, touching, but you shake your head.

“No.”

He begins to shift away from you, your previous words with the solitary one dissonating, but a hand to the back of his neck holds him fast.

“Don’t get better for me. James Buchanan Barnes is worthy enough to get better for himself.” You interrupt what was obviously going to be a protest from him. “You’re the one that has to live with yourself. I don’t plan on going anywhere, but I also can’t fight this battle for you, as much as I wish I could.”

“I don’t know what getting better for myself even looks like.”

Your eyebrows settle into determination, a directness in your gaze. “Your training is almost done. Quit washing windows, focus on finishing well. Life is about to change for the better. Refocus, take a breather. And let the people in your life love you.”

“I. . . I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask. Except. . .” You bite your lip, as if pondering whether you should continue.

“What?” he prompts.

A twinkle returns to your eye and you lean in even closer, “You could shave the beard before you meet my parents or they’ll think I’m dating a hobo.”

For the first time in weeks, a laugh bubbles up through Bucky and out into the world with joy that was anything but hollow.

Chapter Sixteen

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[bleedingthirium]

Gavin x Reader (Stressed Out)

Authors Note: -Sobs- I tried to go for a softer Gavin Reed around his S/O at home but I feel like I went a little out of character. And I wrote ALOT. Im sorry! But I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry if it’s bad. And sorry it took so long to post.

Warnings: Swearing (because it’s fucking Gavin, c’mon people. GET A MOVE ON!) Category: Fluff

You and Gavin work completely opposite jobs; he was around dead people all the time, trying to find the murderer… whereas you were (more or less) based upon keeping people alive. Or – eventually, it would be come your job. Technically you held half a title as a Nurse. You’ve still got a lot of studying to do before you became a fully registered nurse. Though the doubts were slowly creeping in from the back of your mind, clouding your focus as you sat on the floor leaning your back against the couch. For some reason you preferred to sit on the floor with your studies spread across the coffee table. You know this wasn’t good for your posture, being a Nurse-in-training, you definitely knew better! At least everything was in reach and you didn’t have to lean yourself halfway over a dining room table to retrieve a document or textbook that happened to be a little bit too far from your reach. This was more or less how Gavin found you. Sitting on the floor with your studies surrounding you.

“Hey Babe. How’s your day?” He asked as he shut the door behind him, grey eyes taking in the copious amounts of paperwork and text books and forced himself to hold back a groan because he hated paperwork. The last thing he wanted to come home to was more paperwork, it reminded him too much of being back at the precinct. Of course, he didn’t outwardly complain because he knew this type of paperwork was necessary/essential. No way in hell he’d ever tell you to pack it away.

You didn’t even hear the keys jingle in the doorknob, or even hear him walk in until his voice suddenly yanked you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump almost ten feet in the air! “Jesus Gav! A bit of warning!” you gasped, hand flying to your chest in fright, as if you were attempting to calm your frantically beating heart down. “I gotta come home some time, babe.” He chuckled, clearly amused at catching you off guard. Your reaction was pretty fucking priceless. But his reaction slowly fell as realization dawned on his features. He had said goodbye to you this morning just as you were setting up for your study sesh. Except it had only been three text books and a small file of paperwork. Not this strewn of a mess. “Y/N? Have you been there the entire day?” Your eyebrows lifted as if Gavin just asked the most ridiculous question in the universe, but when your eyes glanced to the clock on the wall, they widened at the time. 6:30pm! What the hell!? Where the hell did the time go!? “Uh, I guess so? Then that also means I haven’t gotten as far as I’d like. I’ve still got a report to write, essays… Oh my god, I’ve got a test to study that I almost forgot about!” A hand lifted to your forehead in stress before sliding down your cheek and your E/C orbs glanced around at the mess. “I’ve got so much to do! Not enough time. I’m going to fail. Oh my god, I’m going to fail!” “You’re not going to fail.” Gavin’s firm voice spoke through your thoughts. This wasn’t the first time he’s helped you through a mild anxiety attack regarding your studies. Stepping over some of your books and paperwork, you watched as he made his way over to you, lifting his leg slightly as he swung it behind him so he could straddle the couch behind you, so that you now sat in between his legs. “You were born to be a Nurse. I’ve seen how you’ve patched me up. Your gentle with your hands. It’s one of the things I fell in love with.” You leaned back, head tilting back and upwards to glance back up at him. “Just my hands? Not my heart or my beautiful face?” Gavin quietly chuckled, “And your sense of humor.” Speaking of hands, you suddenly felt his hands on your shoulders. You immediately let out a groan of satisfaction as his fingertips firmly pressed into the knots on your shoulder. Gavin was quiet as he began massaging your shoulders; giving you a small break from your workload, knowing he can at least offer something to help you. Judging by the roll of your head and the small mewls of pleasure coming from you, he must be doing a good job! It wasn’t often Gavin massages you. Mostly due to his own hectic workload, and quite often he came home exhausted. But when he does, oh his fingers are magic and immediately have you trapped under their spell. “I don’t know Gavin…” you started, biting your bottom lip before letting it go. “I’m worried I’m in over my head. My passion is to help people and there are other ways of doing that. This whole medical study is a little too hard.” There was certainly no mistaking the disappointment in your voice and Gavin stopped in his ministrations for a moment before picking up again. “Y’know…when I studied to become a police officer, I didn’t think I’d get through.” He quietly opened up to you a little. It’s not often he does, he’s just not a very open person and you learned that it was easier to let him come to you when he’s ready rather than you question for answers. “I was just some dumb punk kid. Couldn’t spell. Kept pickin’ fights, worried I was gonna end up on the wrong side of the law indefinitely. But, uh… here I am. Y’know? The physical stuff was easy. Loved it. But the academic stuff? The studying, the essays? Man, it felt like bullshit. My final exam… y’know, the one that really matters…? Thought I’d fucked it up completely. I studied as hard as I could but it felt like nothing… I left that exam room, ready to quit. Wanted to quit. Hell, I even almost tore up my acceptance letter. There was just no way in hell I was gonna make it. But I did. And you will too. Just keep going, Y/N. Don’t give up. The world needs you as a Nurse. I need you as a Nurse. Who else is gonna patch me up?” You let out a sigh as Gavin kept working the knots on your shoulders, and his firm voice slowly soothing your worries. To others who didn’t know Gavin, one would assume he was being a bit harsh or blunt with his speech, but you knew the tones of endearment that lay within the message he was trying to send. “Take a breather, Y/N.” Gavin suggested when you didn’t respond to his little spiel that came from the heart. He didn’t take offense to you not replying. He knew you tend let things process a little before taking on board what was said. “I can’t. I have so much to do.” You said as you leant sideways on his knee, a hand waving at the mess of papers and textbooks everywhere. “Your burnt out. You’re gonna get shit done tonight. You don’t think I’ve been where you are? You’re gonna just sit there and re-read the same question for the next three hours, trying to make sense of it. And you’re gonna write fuck all because your brain is tired.” His fingers had stopped massaging across your skin, but they had now begun to caress softly across your shoulders before dropping to your upper arms and giving them a squeeze of reassurance. He’s head coming to lean down and press against the side of yours as you both sat there for a moment in silence. You hadn’t argued against him so, to him, that meant you were likely contemplating what he was suggesting and would heed his advice in stopping for the night. His grey eyes spotted something in one of your text books and frowned, trying to make out what the fuck it was… “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to something that represented a certain type of sweet. “It’s a spleen.” “Looks like a jelly bean to me.” “Yeah, well it wouldn’t taste like one.” “How would you know? Have you ever tasted one before? Are you secretly a cannibal that I don’t know about? … ‘cause that’s kinda hot. Let’s do it!” Joking of course, he attacked your neck with kisses, making you smile and the small sound of laughter escaped. Gavin’s heart fluttered just a bit knowing he made you smile, even if it was just a small smile… “C’mon Y/N. Pack all this away. Start fresh tomorrow.” “Yes Detective.” You murmured, teasingly using his title which you did every now and then. It always earned a small sound of laughter from him. With a kiss to your temple, Gavin wiggled himself out of being trapped on the couch by your body, and left you to pack up your paperwork. He would have helped but he didn’t want to mess up any system you had going (working on case files at the Precinct, he knew what it was like to have a mess of papers spread out across the table but for it to also be an ‘organised mess’). You barely paid any mind to where Gavin was going, assuming he’d gone to take a shower or something. You focused on packing things away, feeling a little more at ease after Gavin was able to place your mind to rest. This is one of the things you adored so much about him; at first glance he looks like a gruff person you wouldn’t dare be friends with, but underneath all that… there’s a much sweeter side to him. It took him ages to show it, but you saw his potential, caught glimpses of it beneath his rough-boy exterior. Hence why you never gave up on him.

Everything in two neat piles, you carried both to the dining room table and set them there, ready to tackle tomorrow. For now, you needed to focus on cooking dinner because even though it’s been a long day for you, it’s been an even longer day for the poor Detective. And the last thing he needed to come home to was a stressed out girlfriend. “Hey, Gav? What do you want for dinner?” You called out from the kitchen, hand resting on the countertop with a finger idly tapping away in thought because you hadn’t prepared anything earlier. “Don’t worry about dinner” Gavin said as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, making you jump ten feet in the air. Again, making him chuckle at your reaction. “Ran you a bubble bath. Go relax. I’ll handle tonight.” Had your hand not been resting on the countertop, you would’ve fainted at the offer. All this time Gavin had prepared you a bubble bath while you were tidying up your papers, despite his own long-ass day. How the hell did you get so lucky to have him? How the hell did people not see that he was such a kind man beneath his rough exterior? “I… but what about dinner?” “I’ll order pizza. Now go. Water’s gettin’ cold.” You stared at him just a moment longer before the relief washed over your body and your shoulders sagged, hand sliding off the bench. “Sounds good.” You softly murmured before walking up to him and pressing a kiss against his cheek. You didn’t see it as you made your way to the bathroom, but Gavin had a stupid smile on his face. He may not show it in all the right ways, but he was head over heels for you. He fucking worshipped the ground you walked on. You were that softness he needed in the world of cruelty he was exposed to either by his job or his own damn actions. You soaked in the bath for a good long while – or until your stomach started growling loudly and ruined the mental aesthetic you had going on. The last thing you expected Gavin to do was run you a bath, much less a bubble bath. Just add it to one of the many things you loved about him. Like it was said, he doesn’t show his love or appreciation in normal ways. But the massage, the bubble bath, the taking over the evening’s plans so you can relax despite his own long and stressful day… those were the ways he shows he cares. It wasn’t long before you were snug in your pyjama’s and followed the scent of Pizza that sat on the coffee table, Gavin patiently waiting for you to join him before he began eating. You hated that he does that, he needs to eat. No need to wait for you. But then again, you adored that he had some gentlemanly values. Because, looking at him (or with your first impression of him), you thought he lacked them entirely. There was a bottle of water waiting for you too, as sweet as Gavin was to take everything into consideration, it made you feel even more guilty because he’s had a long day and you haven’t even asked about his day, or how he was going! You quietly sat down and took your half of the cardboard box that had your pizza on it. “Hey. You’re gonna make a great Nurse one day.” Glancing over to him, you saw the sincerity in his grey eyes. He 100% believed in you. No doubts. Your eyes quickly shifted to the kitchen table before glancing back at Gavin again. He’s right. You can do this. You’ll do it for him. A gentle smile spread across your face, blush lightly tinging your cheeks. “Thank you, Gavin. For everything.” “Hey, c’mon now. How many times have I come home late or pulled an all-nighter? It’s the least I could do. Besides. You got no idea how hot you’re gonna look in your uniform.” “They’ll be scrubs Gavin. Not the 1950s get-up.” “Still gonna look hot babe. And ‘m still gonna rip ‘em off you.” You chuckled softly at the underlining compliment before moving a little closer to him on the couch, resting against his arm. To which he moved it slightly so you could rest in the crook of his side while you ate. “I mean it Y/N. You’re gonna be great and I’m so proud of you.”  

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty-Three, “Bleeding Heart”

hello hello. i’m so sorry that i’m an awful person and i haven’t written in a bahillion years. life has been wack and i fell out of writing for awhile. instead of doing homework like a good human being - yay! - i found this chapter i had started and i finished it. it’s not as long as usual, i know, but i did that on purpose and you’ll see why ;) ;) ;) ;) i hope i can write some more soon and stick with this. i’m unreliable i know and i’m terribly sorry. college and work are crazy and my mom was just diagnosed with 2 kinds of cancers soooo oooo life truly is crazy and overwhelming rn. i hope to maybe set aside some time each night to write, but it’s hard to stop when it’s getting fun haha. i enjoyed writing this chapter and delving more into this story, like idek where it’s gonna go haha.

anyways lemme know what you think of this chapter. i wanna hear your predictions and thoughts!!!!!!!!! reblog, like, share with friends, say hi to me :) 

one last thing. we should decide a ship name for harry and becks, i mean it’s been coming. here are my ideas and feel free to send me others :D 

a) hecks (my personal fav) 

b) barry (i just think of rachel’s barry from FRIENDS but it’s ok) 

c) hebecca????

d) ??????

e) hecky?

“No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO.

I try to breathe in, but I can’t.

And suddenly the switch inside of me changes. Instead of pushing him away for the last few weeks, I want him. I want him to come and save me. 

The laugh that falls from my lips surprises the both of us. “You can’t hurt me anymore.” 

The swarm of voices that crowded my ears from before is now gone. A soft chatter of voices occupies the conference room now, around an hour after the festivities had begun. Now the fun is over and the last few of us clean up the forgotten plates, take down the streamers donning the walls, push in the chairs, vacuum up the crumbs, and everything else required to return the room to its former glory. 

“Hey, you stop that,” somebody says from behind me. “This was yer party, yer not s’posed to be cleaning it up,” they finish as I turn around to find Harry pushing a lock of hair out of his eyes as he grasps a wet rag in the other hand. 

“No, I want to help. Please,” I reply, turning back to the table and picking up the spray bottle. I spritz the plastic top and run the wet rag over the spot, repeating in sections until I finish the table. 

“Fine, I guess you can help,” Harry huffs and I smile to myself in triumph as I return to my cleaning. “So, what did ya think?” 

“It was a lot of fun and very nice of all of you, thank you so much again,” I tell him trying to circumvent having a conversation. I move to the other end of the table as he begins on the next one over. 

A few male coworkers fold up the table to my left and carry it out the door, probably to place back in storage. My eyes life to find Harry leaning over the table he scrubs and he must notice my pause because he meets my eyes. But I can’t look at him, not today. 

“I’m glad ya had such a good time, ‘m sure everybody else did too . . Everybody’s going t’ miss ya, ya know,” he comments, and I nod with a small smile. I don’t know how much more of this awkward small talk I can put up with, especially as the domino that caused all of this is gnawing at my insides. Particularly the part where he could have stopped it coming to this. 

But he didn’t.  

The rest of the clean up consists of few words between Harry and I, or anybody else for that matter. We cleaned tables, folded them and carried them away, stacked chairs, vacuumed, packed things away, and carried more things away. The room was now bleak with its new emptiness and quiet, all of the people previously filling it returning to their lives. Luckily I found my escape shortly after the room was all squared away. 

“All done?” a voice asks me. I look over my shoulder and find Asher tying up a bloated garbage bag. My stomach drops all of a sudden with disappointment at who it is, and who it’s not. 

“Yep.” I nod. Then I feel bad for being disappointed. Oh it’s just a never-ending rollercoaster, isn’t it?

“I can’t believe you helped clean up. The whole point was having other people do stuff for you, and then you helped them?!” Asher laughs with a disbelieving shake of his head. He happens to pull a giggle from my unsure lips. I sheepishly nod at his words, and I give him another laugh when he almost trips over the garbage bag. 

“Are you on your way out now?”

“Yeah, I think so. I just have to drop off some last-minute things - keys and keycards, that sorta thing. But now I can’t find the person to give them to . . ,” I confess, losing my words as I scan the room for those green eyes and that mustard top. 

“Hmmmph, well it’s getting late. Maybe he left or had something. You could leave them with Myles or Jennings, I’m sure if you wanna get outta here. I know you’re just dying to get those drinks with me tomorrow,” Asher quips, turning my lips up with his words. 

I leave him with a few words, telling him I’ll see him later. I say goodbyes to a few people as I leave the conference room and begin my hunt to find Harry. One I’m not sure how I want to end. 

I find my desk empty and many others as well. Glancing at my watch, I find that the hours have flown by. Many people jetted out of here as it’s five o'clock on a Friday afternoon. The cushion welcomes me as I sit down in my chair for the last time, but I don’t miss its welcoming squeak. The squeaking continues as I spin my last spin in the chair, feeling hot tears at the back of my eyes at the finality of my actions. My mug of pencils- no, it’s not my mug anymore. It never was mine. 

A polar bear post-it note holder invades my -not my desk - along with framed pictures of strangers, a bright pink day planner, candy apple lotion, and other foreign objects belonging to the new owner of this desk. Who isn’t me. A long sigh leaves my lips as I release my hands I didn’t know I was clenching. 

“It’s now or never,” I say aloud, willing myself to stand. 

Okay, Becky, we can do this. This isn’t even the hard part. 

But it is, I think to myself as my eyes glance up and memories that took place at this desk spin through my head. Making Harry laugh for the first time. Silly arguments with him about which was the better movie. How easily he made me smile by bringing me coffee out of nowhere and- Stop, Becky, you can’t do this now, I tell myself as I swipe a hot tear away from under my eye. I exhale as I get to my feet and feel for the ring of keys in my pocket. Good, they’re still there. 

The hallway is dim, but the light from the London evening comes in through the many windows around the office. His hallway. A hallway I will never walk again. Fuck, am I really sure I want to do this? How can I not see him again? You can and you will. You have to, Becky. It was too hard sitting there day after day wanting him. And him not wanting you back. I nod to myself, trying to affirm those words to myself. They don’t do that good of a job, because of the person I see around the corner. 

“Oh hey, bug. A-are ya leavin’?” Harry stutters, his furrowed emerald eyes falling on me. He comes to a stop in front of me, running a hand through his mop of curls. 

“U-uh yeah. I was just going to drop off the keys with you and go over a few things.” 

“Yeah yeah, sounds good. I jus’ really gotta take a leak, so ‘ll be back in a minute, ‘kay?” He asks with a pat on my arm. I nod with a soft ‘okay,’ as I turn to watch him walk away. Nodding with a thumbs up, he gives me a small sad smile before turning around and walking down the hallway. I watch until he’s gone. 

Almost done. But now for the hard part. Leaving him for the last time, I contemplate with a pout. I shuffle my feet to his door and twist the knob. Immediately, his familiar woodsy scent hits me. Suddenly, all of my senses are inundated with him. His messy desk. His blazer draped over his chair. Bookmarked biographies dotting his desk. Empty mugs of tea taking up empty spots. The essential oil diffuser in the corner humming as it mists Sandalwood. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 trickling from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Harry. It’s all him. And my reserves begin to fall. Can I really do this? No, there’s no way I can. Even if I have to sit at that desk day after day trying to love him, it’s better than leaving him. 

Yeah, and then what about when he marries Amber or somebody else that’s not you? 

I gulp, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat and at the same time pressing my fingers against my eyes, willing them to dry. 

“Wow, are we getting a little teary-eyed on our last day?” a voice snarks from behind me. 

No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO. 

I try to breathe in, but I can’t. 

And suddenly the switch inside of me changes. Instead of pushing him away for the last few weeks, I want him. I want him to come and save me. To save me from her. And to see her for the monster that she is. 

The laugh that falls from my lips surprises the both of us. “You can’t hurt me anymore, Amber,” I snap, turning around to face her with a wry smile coating my lips. 

“Oh I don’t know about that, I still can. But hey, I won, and don’t you forget that,” she retorts. Amber’s blonde curls shake as she stomps her foot and points a tanned manicured finger at me. How can he even comfortably hold hands with those daggers?

Her blow hits me, and she knows it. I can’t hide it, because I’ve lost it. The last few weeks or even months have taken everything from me. My grandpa dying, my mom’s abusive treatment towards me, Harry’s bipolarness, and Amber’s physical and mental attacks. I lost.

“I don’t care,” I croak, throwing up my hands in defeat. The keys on the ring twinkle with movement in my hand. 

“But you do! I know you do!” she cackles, excitement twisting her plastic face into a Cheshire grin. “You wanted him, but you couldn’t have him and so you gave up! I won!” Amber continues, stepping towards me in her flowy scarlet blouse and skin-tight black jeans. 

I instinctively step back and away from her, but I stop when I think I hear a noise. It’s a loud squeak on the floor that makes me stop, but it doesn’t stop right away. 

“I don’t care, Amber, you can have him! I told him what you did to me and he didn’t believe me because of whatever spell you put on him. So you can keep him and live a wonderful, happy life together. I don’t care anymore, and I hate that I ever did,” I announce with weight to my words, willing my feet to lift from the carpet, but they won’t. 

Amber chuckles, crossing her arms with a pleased smile of satisfaction painting her face. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to tell him what I did to you,” she mutters in disbelief, shaking her head. “As if Harry would believe that I’d do such a thing. He probably thinks you made it up. Hell, for all I know I never laid a finger on you and you just imagined the whole thing.” 

“You left marks on me, Amber,” I spit out through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, and apparently that wasn’t even enough to convince Harry. God, I really do have him wrapped around my finger,” Amber sighs happily. “I can’t do anything wrong in his eyes. He hasn’t even noticed how much I’ve been gone lately, or how often I’ve been texting this new bloke I’m fucking on the side.” 

“You slut!” I exclaim, not being able to hold it in. “Harry loves you and would do anything for you! He built this firm from the ground up! He’s sweet, he’s kind, he’s giving, he’s funny- he’s amazing and that’s how you treat him?!” 

“Excuse me?! Who here was throwing themselves at my boyfriend right in front of me?!” Amber argues, taking another frightening step toward me. She’s no longer laughing, but instead, her drawn-on eyebrows have fallen into a point above her glassy stare. 

“How dense are you?!” I laugh, feeling the anger rise warmly in my chest. I really don’t care anymore. “You have such a huge problem with that - which never happened, thank you - but you think it’s okay to cheat on your boyfriend?! My god, you really are fucking dumb!” 

“You just had your last laugh, bitch, because I’m going to slap that smug smile right off your face,” she snarls, taking several steps before I can almost see the flames rising in her eyes. 

“No, you won’t!” a voice announces. 

I take my eyes off of Amber to see who said that, but it’s a second too long that lets her clawed hand accost my face. 

[commanderadorkable]

I'm finally sitting down to write my fic! I wasn't tagged by anyone but I'm sharing anyway. This was the *second* scene I wrote for the story. I'm still working out major plots and stuffs.

I don't know who to tag as everyone I know has posted their wips already. 🤣 It’s under the cut cause apparently I’m wordy.

I walked up to Cullen’s office door and lightly knocked. I don’t know why I still knock. He’s asked me about three hundred times to not bother...it still seems rude though.

To just walk into someone’s office slash bedroom without knocking?

I felt even worse since it was well past dinner and I didn’t want to wake him if he had managed to go to bed early.

“Come in.” I heard Cullen say muffled through the door. I opened the door and walked in to find Cullen sitting at his desk,  trying to shave by candle light. He was hunched over in front of a small mirror. On either side of the mirror were multiple candles for light. It still didn’t seem like enough light to shave by. And from how low the candles were burning, it seemed he had been at this for awhile.

He wasn’t in his usual attire, which was kind of surprising. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen this man without his furry mane...and that included in game cutscenes.

Tonight he just wore a plain linen shirt and, I assumed, plain trousers. He could be pantsless for all I knew.

Ooooh. Stop it, brain! “Oof. That can’t be easy. Why don’t you do that in the morning? You'd have more natural light when the sun comes up” I asked looking at him.

The razor paused on his cheek and he looked up at me. Surprise and possibly excitement flicked across his face. But just as quickly his face returned to his perpetually exhausted look. Laying the razor down he let out a long sigh and spoke. “The Ambassador informed me at dinner this evening that the Advisors had an early meeting with some nobles that I needed to attend. I wouldn’t have the time between running drills and getting to the meeting.”

I could hear his voice dripping with disdain when he mentioned the nobles and it made me smile. I placed my hands on my hips and walked towards his desk. As I got closer I saw that he was bleeding in quite a few spots. He moved to continue shaving and I saw that his hands were shaking quite a bit.

That would explain all the nicks. Poor man.

“I don’t know what Thedosian propriety law this would break, but would you like some help?” I asked him, hopefully.

He chuckled and stared at me for a moment. Likely contemplating what kind of scandal this may cause if someone were to walk in to catch us. Resigned he said, “I’m sure you would do a much finer job than I could at present.”

I came around to his side of the desk and took stock of what had been done. There were more cuts than what I previously saw and frowned at him.

"I may take away your straight razor privileges, good ser."

I'm fairly certain the Commander just rolled his eyes at me.

I absentmindedly traced my finger across his cheek taking inventory.

I turned and grabbed the clean washcloth from his desk. I started to dab at the cuts to help staunch some of the worst bleeding.

Then I remembered that I had some fancy new healing magic!

Man, this will never get old. Thanks, Thedas!

“Do you mind if I use some magic to heal these?” I asked, pointing to the little blood spots.

He waved his hand, “Go ahead.”

I hovered my right hand over the right side of his chin and cheek.  I concentrated on healing the small cuts I saw. The faint blue light coming from my hand was always unnerving, but I ignored it and focused on what I was doing.  I was extra careful to avoid the scar on his lip. I definitely didn’t want that to disappear.

Moving my hand as each one disappeared, I continued to move upwards until I reached his temple.

More than once our eyes met and I'd lose my concentration.

Mental note to start training with Solas more.

When I got him all patched up, I grabbed his razor and moved around his chair to his left side. It seemed the straight razors in Thedas weren’t too terribly different than back home. I was silently thankful the few times Derek asked me to help him shave with a straight razor.

I frowned at the memory.

I gently tilted Cullen’s head over to the right so I could see his neck and face better. He closed his eyes and allowed his shoulders to relax.

I noticed his pulse in his neck quicken when I touched him. Mine mirrored his and I had to take a couple steadying breaths.

I groaned internally and tried to distract myself from THAT train of thought.

“Are your withdrawals getting worse?” I asked gently.

Without moving he answered, “Unfortunately, yes. First it starts with the headaches then the nausea. Then usually by the end of the day my hands are shaking too badly to be of much use. If Josephine hadn’t informed me of this meeting, I wouldn’t have bothered with this.”

He gestured to his face with a wave of his hand.

I nodded, not knowing what to say. Then I realized his eyes were still closed.

“Ah. Makes sense.” I continued to work methodically over his neck and face. Taking the razor from his neck over his jaw and up his cheek.

Being this close to him was unnerving. It’s one thing to sit close during a chess game...there’s the board between us to make it seem not so intimate.

But shaving him as I was, afforded me the opportunity to really study his face. How often do I get to stare at his face and not get caught? I smiled like a little girl with her first crush.

I could see the bags under his eye from the lack of sleep. The poor man probably only slept a few hours each night. Then managed to run an entire army to save the world. I don’t know how he did it. I turned into a diva if I didn't get at least 6 hours of sleep.

I could see the wrinkles in his forehead from his perma scowl. I would imagine running on no sleep would make everything seem like a nuisance. Coupled with the constant headaches and nausea. I could see how people found him intimidating to be around. I’d probably be counted among them if I didn’t know how...soft he could be when he let the Commander façade down.

I could also see the scar on his lip that seemed to pull his mouth into smirk every once in a while. I always wondered how he had gotten that scar. He didn’t have it in Kirkwall...or at least wasn’t portrayed as having the scar prior to the rebellion. Maybe I’ll ask him about it one day.

But touching his neck and face… having my face mere inches away from his...watching his pulse go erratic every time I moved my hand...hear his breathing hitch...

Baby Jesus, have mercy on my soul.

I had to stop thinking this way. We were friends...nothing more. We couldn’t be more. I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for the Inquisitor anyway. Plus, Arry and I are out of here at the first chance we get. We just had to figure out how to get home...bah.

Did I really want to leave? Even more, did Arry want to leave? I hadn't specifically asked her...and she had been spending quite a bit more time with Rylen lately.

Ugh, dammit.

I continued to work slowly. I absolutely didn’t want to be the one responsible for marring this pretty face. I’m pretty sure the fan club that he had amassed at his morning drill sessions would come for me. Pitchforks and all.

As I continued, I could feel his face and neck heating up. I imagined he was starting to blush, but the light was too dim to see it.  

When I finally finished with the razor, I wiped it off on the cloth laying on his desk and folded the razor back up and laid it gently next to the mirror. I grabbed another clean cloth to remove the remaining shaving cream left behind on his face, pleased to see that I hadn’t nicked him at all.

I studied him for just a moment longer. His breathing had grown steady and I was reasonably sure he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“Cullen”, I whispered and nudged him gently on the shoulder.

His eyes popped open and he looked like he forgot what was going on.   “All done.” I smiled at him.

I stood back a couple steps while he tilted his neck from side to side to stretch it out and examined my handy work in the small mirror before him. “I must say, Lady Elaine, I’m rather impressed.” His lip quirked as he looked back up at me.

I snorted “I couldn’t very well let you cut up that pretty face before a big meeting with the nobles. How would that make the Inquisition look? Hm?”

Fuck me, did I just say that?!

He, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. Or at least didn’t let on that he noticed.

“Fair point.”

“And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me ‘Lady’?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Likely about as many times as I will have to ask you to stop knocking on my door and just come in.” Cullen deadpanned.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “...touché, Rutherford.”

He chuckled and stood to start clearing off his desk. I saw he was in fact not pantsless at all and wearing a pair of plain leather trousers with only his socks on. “Elaine, did you need me for something?”

“What? Oh, uh, it's nothing actually.” I shrugged.

“Ah.” He looked a little disappointed.

The silence was uncomfortable. Probably because I was making it so. I’d never been one for silence. Plus the fact that I had just been TOUCHING HIS FACE… Internally I screamed.

“Well, I should get goin’ and leave you to it. G’night, Cullen.” I turned towards the door to leave. I had made it across his office and my hand on the handle when he called out to me. 

“Elaine.”

“Hm?” “Do you...do you by chance have any more of that salve you gave me before? For the headaches... What do you call it...the Ice and Hot salve?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. I laughed. “Icy Hot? Yes, I’d be happy to make more for you tomorrow and bring it to our game.”

“Perfect” He smiled at me then. Jesus H Roosevelt Christ...if I wasn’t careful I’d immolate on the spot.

I cleared my throat, “G’night, Cullen.” “Goodnight, Lady Elaine”

I stuck my tongue out at him and turned to leave his office.

[rocohen20]

He Knew He Fucked Up- Part 5

Hi everyone, I’m back! I’m here with another part. I advice you to check this Blog Update that I posted, this post also informs you on my plan for this series. I hope you’ll love this part. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Series Update, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

~~~~~~

Jamie woke up early, much earlier, than what was expected out of him on the morning of the season opener. He tried to fall back asleep once he saw the time. Yet the same nervous energy which woke him up, now has kept him wide awake. He tried to switch positions while breathing calmly and keeping his mind as blank as possible. Half an hour later he gave up and started doing what he always did when he couldn't fall asleep- strategize about his next move in life while reading his "To Do List/ Improvements in Life" note.

 He started writing the list shortly after Tyler caught him sleeping with Tyler's then girlfriend of eleven months- Zoe. His memories of that night weren't the greatest. What were kept however played nonstop in his mind, like game highlights.

 First was the text he got from his ex-girlfriend- Julie, telling him to go grab his remaining stuff from her place. That text infuriated him so much, and he still loved her so much that he didn't want to think for the rest of the night.

 The next picture was of Zoe in front of him, trying to counsel his sad drunk ass. From that it jumped to him kissing Zoe, desperately, like it would help him get over the situation in his life.

 The next moment was the most important part, the part that had haunted him for months ever since. He remembered still being busy with Zoe, feeling good while doing it when suddenly he felt Zoe tensing all over. Concerned, he searched her face for any clue as to what was wrong. However her face was white as a sheet and stuck in the direction of the door. So he followed her gaze, and caught Tyler's frame.

 For a few seconds, which felt like forever, all three of them were stuck exactly as they were while remaining eye contact. He stared at Tyler's face as his eyes started watering, his face stuck between hurt and sad. Then, Tyler's sudden movement of turning around and without a single word just walking away broke the spell. In seconds Zoe grabbed the blanket that was set aside, covered her body and followed Tyler's footsteps. Jamie remembered Lying in his bed, hearing the front door slammed and thinking of a word to summarize the situation- "Fuck".

 Following the faithful day Jamie was unable to set foot in his own bedroom for months without feeling like the scum of the earth. So in response he just sort of moved to his guest bedroom. The guest bedroom wasn't as comfortable as his own room, so he had problems sleeping. On one of those sleepless nights he just took a look at his entire life, critiquing every habit he had and thought about a way to improve. When he finished with it he wrote the list of what he needed to immediately do in his life.

 Now, on this fine morning he contemplated his next move. The first thing on his list he already scratched. He took his time to be sure that it was done before scratching it, but during the team's rush in preparation for the season Jamie was sure that he indeed solved the situation among them.

 The next thing wasn't so easy. He stared at the "Moving to a new place" with self-doubt on whether he would follow suit on it. At the time of writing the list he knew that this house would forever remind him of his mistake, and in order to improve and be better he needed to forgive himself and move on. The problem with that was that Jamie was a hockey player- he liked to keep a grudge and he liked self-inflicted torture.

 The last few days were filled with practices and preparations for the season, but it was also filled with lots of staring at the list and even of getting a phone number of a good realtor from a friend. Yet, he still hadn't made the call.

 He stayed in bed until he had to get up. He ate breakfast and got ready for practice. At the rink he tried to be focused solely on the present and the game later on the day. He liked their team and was excited for the season. On his way back from the rink he decided to call the realtor in a matter of days, if they would win.

 They lost.

 Jamie was already mentally prepared for the phone call with the realtor, so he bet once again on the same deal on their second game of the season.

 They lost again.

 Following the lost, his superstitious side screamed at him for jinxing the games. So he decided to make the fucking call on the two days leading the next game.

 +++

 When he got off the phone call with Joanne River, a realtor from some popular real estate company, he needed a minute to chill. Just from this phone call alone he knew that she wasn't messing around. She orchestrated a full on conversation with him, including building a solid game-plan which took in notice their individual schedules, while preparing what he assumed was a house for visitors.

 He was kind of intimidated by her however he was happy that she agreed to help him. She told him that for the next week and a half she would be too preoccupied to really draft him houses and places to check. Yet after that she would be free to seriously work on it and to send him whatever she'd find.

 So he just moved on, focusing on the season. They won more than once and he was happy. He also tried to stay away from Seggy's business. They were friends again, and things were fine on the ice. However, Segs told him to trust him and not look into his whole situation with Emma, so he did just that. Everything he heard thus far on Emma and Tyler wasn't much. Mostly about how Emma was currently looking for a job as an accountant and if anyone on the team heard something they need to report to Segs about it. Apart from that the guys started to chirp Tyler about his and Emma's weekly "Date night". Tyler never denied the allegations so Jamie assumed it was true. Deep inside Jamie stuck to the mantra "As long as Tyler's happy, I'm happy" and hoped for the best.

 +++

 True to her word Joanne started to flood his e-mail with listing for whole sorts of houses. At first he felt overwhelmed by the never-ending list of potential new places, but then he and Joanne entered this smooth groove of her sending him an option, him telling her what he liked or disliked about the place, and her sending adjusted options. Finally they drafted a solid list of places for them to check in person after the "Canada Trip".

 The trip ended up being a bit disappointing, but he was still pumped about the houses.

 Every single house was a bust, well not a total bust, yet he wasn't fully sold on any of them. So they started their second draft of houses for him to check.

 +++

 At a team dinner in Florida, during a random pause around the table Spezz asked Jamie about the house hunt. Well more specifically on whether he liked the house on Spezz's neighborhood (Jamie asked him about the area).

 He was about to answer Jason, who sat two seats beside him, when Tyler asked "You're moving out?"

 Tyler shot him this unexplained betrayed look that Jamie didn't know how to interpret. Eventually he shot a dismissed answer along the likes of "Yeah, got tired of my house". That time he didn't wait for an answer and just turn to answer the original question. For the rest of the night he and Jason just continued to talk about the process.  Tyler didn't bother him since the original brush off, but he had a feeling it wasn't finished yet.

 +++

 The following day there was someone at his hotel room. When he checked to see who it was he found a nervous looking Tyler waiting to be let in. Jamie had manners, so he let Segs in. Jamie wanted to stall as much as possible whatever talk Tyler wanted to have, so he just stalled the time with making the both of them a tea. He stared at the kettle, as though it would make it boil faster. During this time he could see Tyler pacing back and forth on the carpet from the angle of his eyes. Once the cups of tea were made he pushed one at the direction of Tyler and led them both to the bed.

He knew Segs good enough to recognize that something bothered him, but he also knew him enough to know there was no point of pushing him, eventually he would tell you what he wanted to talk about.

 Once Tyler opened his mouth Jamie was surprised to hear the direct question of "Are you moving away because of what happened in the summer?"

 For a few seconds Jamie was at a loss for words. Then he drafted vague enough answer to not admit for the true reason. He was about to tell Tyler that when Tyler just started talking again.

 "You're about to tell me some bullshit response which I don't want to hear. So, I just want to tell you that if indeed the incident from the summer is the cause of that you shouldn't move out. I know you, and I know how you absolutely love your house. You shouldn’t punish yourself".

 With hearing the last sentence's phrasing he couldn't hold himself back, and let this absurd chuckle. Once he cooled down he started to talk, knowing that he needed to be honest with Tyler.

 "I would punish myself if I stayed living at the house. Ever since what happened I've been living in my guest bedroom. Apart from it being a smaller room, I have trouble sleeping soundly there. Ever since the end of the offseason, I've been in need for sleep for the sake of our jobs. So yeah, moving is a must".

 He looked at Tyler with hopeful eyes, but when he saw the bothered face of Tyler he sighed, knowing he couldn't escape from it, and continued with the explanation.

 "Also, I want to be a better person, the kind that would never act the way I did. One of the steps I have to do in order to follow that is to move on and forgive myself. It's hard to do so when I live at the scene of the crime day in and day out. That's why I'm moving out- for my sake and not yours".

 Tyler looked relaxed with Jamie's reasoning, yet he still looked bothered and like he had something important to say. Jamie was embracing himself for it, but after a long moment Segs just stood up, gave Jamie a noogie and told him in his most sincere voice "You're already a good person" and left the room. Jamie was stuck in his place for a long moment, trying to interpret what this reaction was. At last he decided to see it as Tyler's unique way of showing his support and approval, and Jamie was happy with it. Then he started to get ready for bed, and looked forward their next game.

[sanoiro]

Lucifer 5x04 - It Never Ends Well for the Chicken - Spoilers And Speculation

Warning! There is always a possibility that certain scenes might have been mixed up under their non-respective episodes.

I would appreciate if no media from my S&S posts were taken (again!). I post bts directly from the OPs never from second sources. I spend hours on this as a fan but I’m not a news site nor a source for anyone, therefore, do not take anything from this post. If you want to post some of the photos or videos you see here find the OPs do not take advantage of the hours I’ve spent on this! 

Written By: Aiyana White

Directed By: Viet Nguyen

Aiyana White has written/co-written the episodes:

4x05 - Orgy Pants At Work

5x04 - It Never Ends Well for the Chicken

5x10 - Resting Devil Face (Teleplay)

Cast: Tom Ellis as Lucifer, Lauren German as Chloe, DB Woodside as Amenadiel, Lesley-Ann Brandt as Maze, Kevin Alejandro as Dan, Scarlett Estevez as Trixie, Rachael Harris as Linda Martin and Aimee Garcia as Ella.

Season 4 Recurring Characters: None Officially Announced Guest Cast:

Emil Beheshti...Abe Gantz

Iris Braydon...Portraitist

Patrick Daniel...Paddy

Christopher Gerse...Benny

Joe Sobalo Jr....Vincenzo

Behind The Scenes

(Including the ET intwerviews)

Locations

This episode was shot in two locations the WB lot and at a mansion at Beverly Hills.

- Penthouse?

- New York Street WB Lot

-New York Street WB Lot - The ‘Garden’ Club

-Beverly Hills Mansion (Ellis + German and a lot of background actors)

This S&S is different than the rest mainly because on some level I know certain parts of the plot so here I had to decide what to do. The writers are obviously really proud about this episode and they should be as it is based on an amazing concept. At the same time do I really need to spoil a magnificent episode by writing accurately around 1/3 or 1/2 of the episode? To prove what? To achieve what? After the Part has dropped I’ll share that script page.

So early on I talked to some friends and it was decided that the verified by a script page and crew call page spoilers would not make it in the S&S. At least not the actual core of the episode. Some minor details here and there will still be here yet that is met with another problem as 5x04 sets in motion the rest of the season and if I’m correct also affects 5x09. Therefore, I do hope you do not mind if I’m vague on some parts. Finally don’t you worry when I speculate about things I will tell you upfront like I have done in the previous episodes.

As you can imagine I struggled a lot on how to explain this episode and write the S&S by what has already been spoiled from the cast, mainly in their ET interview at that time from Lauren, Ellis, DB and Aimee.

What I have to tell you first is that 5x04 moves on 3 levels. The first level is the present as a story is being told, it does not begin at random. If you remember 5x03 left us with a temporary solution and two amethyst bracelets on Dan and Lucifer. At the same time 5x05 features the title Detective Amenadiel. Lets speculate here that Lucifer is not that well so the clarity he gained in 5x03 with the show Diablo allowed him to recall of a different time that’s the second level, his past. The third level is how the episode is dressed meaning as a Noir episode that is set in the 1940s.

First, let’s explore the first level. Lucifer for some reason he feels the need to take the audience back to his past, and in order to do that there must be a present audience in his story. Someone that will make him go back and forth. I remind you that the shootings of the noir episode didn’t give any space for a lot of present time shootings so I would guess that Lucifer is at a place he feels safe perhaps his penthouse or Chloe’s house. I do not think that must be happening during therapy as we need a place that comforts him and this is a story not a therapy session the whole structure of it does not support Lucifer talking during a therapy session but to someone he trusts.

Now as you know when you tell a story you need to put everything in a perspective that your audience will understand. Us yes but also the person/s Lucifer has in front of him so the story changes and is manipulated according to us the viewers but also Lucifer’s audience.

w let’s go to the third level before the second for a very simple reason. We would expect for Lucifer to remember his past that this story to be set in Heaven, the Silver City to have angels and a pearly gate, clouds and harps but our genius writers take us somewhere else. They take us in 1940 before the US joined the Second World War. The US joined WII on December 7, 1941. The clothes the actors wear carry this late 1930s, early 1940s style where everything is bigger, there is colourful patterned fabric, no shortage of metal, there is no reason for grimness and of course, there is no war. So here is the thing as the audience you can hear the war drums echoing in the distance but this episode for its main part carries this innocence before WW2. WW2 is also relatable to the humans in Lucifer’s life, they get that people never expect a grand war and that certain behaviours are understandable.

In addition to that film noir concept for 5x04, before WW2 that genre was popular but skyrocketed in the 1940s when we had two of the most amazing Hollywood noir films of all time. By the way, do remember that Hollywood thrived due to the war as the rest of the world either had to halt filming big productions or the technology was simply not affordable yet you will find some good foreign movies but without the same exposure Hollywood gave for the simple reason that it had not been affected directly by the war, meaning the bombs and the poverty.

Now the Noir films I was talking about are The Maltese Falcon that was released in October of 1941 just two months before Pearl Harbor and Citizen Cain in May of 1941 that inspired so many great film noirs we can also mention of course High Sierra in January of 1941. All these movies are important to remember as Lucifer’s past is narrated in a very similar way but with a twist which I’ll let you know what it is when I start explaining the second level. Until I get there do remember that Lauren was watching the movie ‘Only Angels Have Wings’ (1939) which although it is not a film noir it is relatable to this episode and I wouldn’t be surprised if the writers recommended to the actors to watch it. So we gather that the film noir is not a random choice or an attempt to make this episode artistic as other shows have done but it actually deals with that atmosphere the misdealings and the unfortunate choices but also heartbreak. Well, for some that is.

The second level of this episode is that Lucifer talks about his past. If level two and level three correspond then we can claim that it was before Lucifer Fell. I do believe and support this theory as on a level it follows the Comic’s concept that Lucifer Fell around the time he met Lilith. Lilith has been confirmed for 5x04.

Now if we are in a time when Lucifer didn’t Fell what does that mean for the episode itself? Who will. appear there? Why do we have Chloe dressed as a man? Why Lauren called her character Jack? What is going on? Unfortunately for all of us I know that part so I’ll have to skip it but at the same time I’ll not disappoint you.

First of all the second and the third level are connected so they are one thing and the whole story is on some level an allegory in some places and true on others. In order to understand this better you need to be familiar with the book/movie “The Life of Pi”. For the ones who have not read/watched it it’s basically a story of a boy stranded at sea with a Tiger, a Zebra, A Hyena and a Chimpanzee only in the end to realize that none of the zoo animals the ship carried had made it to the raft but the actual story involved humans, murder, cannibalism and the madness that led to boy’s survival through a long quest of keeping up faith to nothing yet everything. The same happens in this episode more or less.

Our characters are changing and as Aimee said even her character in that episode is different. You see the only constant in this story is mainly Lucifer, most of the rest are ‘shifting’ and that’s the appropriate word to explain it. You should also go to all the leads social media and discover some more clues here and there because our leads do not do post in random. Like with my speculation with Inbar for 5x03 I support the same speculation here but from a different person.

So let’s get to the story that Lucifer attempts to narrate. We are back in a time before the big war and we see a Lucifer with lighter colours, curious and of course young. We do not know if he has Fallen but as I speculate over and over in this S&S let’s say that he has not so perhaps we will see the process of that Fall of what or who helped him think for himself.

In the comics, Lucifer after Ibrael slept with Lilith and she bore him a Nephelim son called Briadach, Lucifer and Lilith started having long conversations over why she lays with demons, why she left Adam and the matter of will comes up something that Lucifer contemplates a lot after that. As the years pass in the comics the time comes when Briadach and Maze kill Ibrael because not only he refused his son but also wanted to exile all the Lilim from the Silver City which they have built. You see Lilith was so in love with Ibrael that she gave him her children as builders for the City of Heaven.

Long story short the Angels wanted to kill Maze and Briadach to atone the sin of Ibrael’s murder but Lucifer refuses to take a side which angers Gabriel. Samuel then takes the name Lucifer and leaves the Silver City,

The chances of all that happening are slim to none of course but the concept that Lucifer and Lilith talk at some point in that episode about will and freedom means a lot. There are a lot of firsts in this episode actually that the viewers will certainly love. Also, I do not think we should approach their meeting as a romance more like a platonic romance of similar ideas and a start of how Lucifer made a stand towards divine plans.

Talking of firsts as some of fans noticed Lucifer in that episode didn’t wear his ring. The writers' room had two backstories (not from the start of the series!) for that according to Idly and apparently, they have decided which one to use so in 5x04 we will see how Lucifer got his ring but not everything is that simple or innocent. And talking about lack of innocence that is one of the reasons why the Garden is transformed to a club that bears the same name in the episode. Also perhaps that duet is actually Lucifer’s first introduction to a piano and he is a natural? Honestly no idea.

^Video Here

There is also always an alias... I told you this story is moving on 3 levels all the time. 

It was first assumed that it was Lauren but as White was the writer of 5x04, in reality, we see Ellis and Lesley Ann before their duet if that tux is anything to go about. 

From the bts we have seen that there is a case, there is always a case and there is even a police car so if I were you I would expect a body somewhere (you will probably be shocked when you see the victim) and so things will need to be investigated and unveiled. Meaning the culprit.

We have seen Lauren with a black eye as well as a cut lip and that is again normal as the story progresses yet you will not get much of the story’s zest aside from the fact that Lucifer is working with Lauren’s ‘Jake’ and that in the Garden he meets Lesley-Ann with which he has a duet. Perhaps some mommy issues from Maze can finally be addressed when Lilith makes her entrance.

^Lucifer getting in the Garden Club^

^Remember there is always a trap... There is always a chase for riches and... power. 

Now you may ask and what of the Proprietor? Well, he might be our villain and he might be someone totally unexpected. Do not get fooled by titles and do expect the unexpected.

As a final note, I’ll have to remind you this. Season 5 is a heavily supernatural based season like S4 was and before that S2. It’s basically what the Writers Room can do without being controlled by a Network and when they have the freedom to create the path they want for the characters. Season 1 was supposed to be a filler for FOX and to get a second season it was unexpected, to say the least and then in December of 2017 the news came that it had been renewed for a 3rd season at that point, the network wanted a full S2 meaning 22 episodes, 4 of which as you know were moved in S3. So S2, S4 and S5 are in the same tune and 5x04 will set the tune to synchronize with the supernatural elements of the past seasons.

Plot-wise you will notice that most of the shooting was done at night also Lucifer’s clothing lighten up here and there while the story becomes bleaker. 

^Some bts suggest that Maze is present in Lucifer’s story or at least in the present aka the first level of that episode even if she is not around that story from the beginning. 

Now early in this S&S I told you that this episode might affect Season 5 Part 1 as a whole and even 5x09 but I didn’t tell you why. The solution of 5x03 is temporary and Lucifer in 5x04 realizes that he can find a permanent one by recalling events of his past. Perhaps his audience comes to the conclusion that a solution may lie on a detail of 5x04. That leads to a quest but what frees Dan and Lucifer has other consequences and do not be surprised if in Part 2 you will see the younger version of Lucifer again that you met in 5x04. Confusing? Yes, but better than nothing I suppose at least we know that the season is well crafted.  

Unfortunately due to the circumstances under this S&S is written I’ll not answer any questions that will ask from me to clarify or further speculate details and in general what I have mentioned above. Thank you for your understanding.

PS As far as I know up to that point the Hell set was still up in the stage so we might see it again in 5x04. Only time will tell.

PS2 There are hints everywhere in every single bts above. Things that are obvious and others that you simply cannot spot until you watch the episode but trust me this will be an unforgettable experience for all Lucifans!

Although some photos seem to be the same like the ones in 5x03, which is true, it is why sometimes we do not know which episode she shoots as multiple scenes from 2-3 episodes sometimes are shot in one day due to Scarlet’s other responsibilities and under the Child Actor Act that does not allow a child to work for more than a certain number of days and hours per week. 

Bonding time I guess... 

^The same t-shirt so we shall see :P 

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Female Werewolf x Female Reader (part 1)(SFW)

Hey, so, basically this was in my head and I had it get it out.  When I made it to page six with no end in sight, but at a good stopping point for now, I wanted to get out a post.  So I guess this is going to be a two-parter!

---

Your walk home from work always consisted of a trek through a dark alley between the back of two restaurants.  Most people were scared of the thought of walking down such a street at that hour of the night, but you knew that the presence of security cameras behind the two establishments meant that no one was dumb enough to stake out there in hopes of catching someone unawares.  You so rarely encountered anyone or anything else in that stretch of your walk - save for the occasional worker coming out the backdoor of their place of work with the trash - that when you began seeing the same battered looking dog regarding you warily night after night you started bringing it treats.  

The first time you stopped it was because you were carrying home some leftovers from a work lunch, your team had gone to a steakhouse and you couldn’t finish your strip steak, so you took it home to maybe have for dinner or over a salad for lunch tomorrow.  The thought went through your mind, though, as you approached the alley to maybe offer the meat to the sweet, sad looking pup.  Well, pup was probably the wrong term, but aren’t all dogs puppies really?  The creature was huge, you’d have guessed nearly waist height while standing on all fours, and a pure midnight black with one startlingly clear crystal blue eye.  They’d always eye you warily as you walked through the alley, although they never once raised a hackle or a growl your way even when you’d coo hello on your way past.

Before you can stop yourself you pull the little cardboard takeout box of steak out of your bag and pop open the lid, revealing half of a steak sliced into strips laid out along with some of those roasted potatoes.  You double checked to make sure nothing had any garlic (bad for a pupper’s stomach) and after being sure this was all safe for the big dog you walked into the alley intent on offering it to them.  

The huge canine was curled up in a ball where they usually were, deep in the shadows of a little alcove set into the building where their fire hookup was.  “Hey gorgeous.”  You croon down at the dog, but instead of continuing your walk, for the first time ever you squat lightly in front of the big creature and give it a tentative, closed mouth smile.  “My eyes were bigger than my stomach at lunch I guess, and I think you’d enjoy this more than I would tonight.”  You set the cardboard takeout box down, open, on the ground and shuffle it towards the dog, who meanwhile had perked up and began regarding you with a sort of aloof wariness.  You just sit there, looking happily and quietly at the dog as it sniffed first at the cardboard box and then at its contents before picking up a piece of steak and snapping it into their mouth with a satisfied rumble.  Content that the dog is happy and eating you stand and coo out a goodbye to the beautiful creature who doesn’t even look twice at you as you walk back home.  You’re maybe a little sad that you won’t have your leftovers tonight, but you happily pop in some of your frozen lasagna and can’t find it in you anywhere to regret feeding that dog.  

You had more than enough padding in your income, considering you’re single and don’t really do a whole lot other than work and hang out at home watching Netflix and partaking in your hobbies, that you didn’t think twice about starting to bring a little something for the dog every day.  Maybe you’d earn its trust, and you could bring them home!  And be friends!  You’d wanted a dog for a while, a furry cuddler who would want to hang out half on your lap while you pet its fluffy ears, but also a dog who would help make sure you get out of the house a few times a day and actually walk, do something.  The next day you stop in to the diner around the corner from your office to get a side of bacon, presenting it to the confused but happy dog with another smile.  You sit a little longer, talking lightly about your day and how excited you were to see them that evening.  “You know, seeing you is starting to be the best part of my day.  So I thought maybe I’d bring you some treats to let you know I appreciate it.”  You give another sweet, closed lip smile to the dog before standing and continuing on home.  You really, really want to pet the dog.  Their ears looked so soft!  But you didn’t want to invade their personal space, especially as a stray.  You didn’t want to get your hand bitten off, of course, but you also wanted to make sure that the dog continued to trust you.  

You brought something every day after work, five days a week.  The dog still didn’t let you touch them, but you started to notice them perking up before you came into the alley, and their tail had even started to thump a little against the ground when they sighted you.  You were three months into this arrangement when you were fired.  You knew why, you had denied the advances of a superior and they began making your life a living hell at work, writing you up over every infraction.  You were consulting with a lawyer but that didn’t stop it from scaring you.  You had to get your resume in order now and start a job search, could you use this place as a reference?  Probably not, well shit.  You’re empty handed today, and this time instead of squatting you kneel down heavily on the pavement in front of the dog.  You give them a sad smile.  “Sorry sweetheart, I’m empty handed today.  I know, I’m disappointing you, I’m sorry.  I got fired today, so money’s gonna be a little tight, and I don’t think I’m going to have an excuse to walk through this neighborhood anymore.”  

You’re crying now, fat tears running down your cheeks, and before you can lift a hand to wipe them away the dog licks one off of your cheek and whines at you.  “I’m gonna miss you sweetheart, I wish you’d come with me.”  With a shaking hand you hesitantly stroke up the dog’s neck and over the top of their head.  They let out a chuff that sounds like a resigned sigh before licking over your cheek again and pressing their cold nose into your neck.  It makes you giggle and scratch behind their ears.  When you eventually stand after calming down the dog also stands up.  It’s missing one foreleg, something you never noticed, although it doesn’t seem to impede their movement in the least.  You were right to think they were huge too, their back reaching up to the bottom of your rib cage.  You aren’t sure what to expect, you’re hoping they’ll follow you home you guess, but instead of doing that they just stand there watching you as you walk away.  You pause at the end of the alley and glance back, waiting a beat to see if they’ll join you.  When they don’t you deflate a little but continue your walk back to your little one story house.  

It’s in a neighborhood that isn’t great, but you’re quiet and keep to yourself and keep your head down.  People leave you alone, you don’t get in anyone’s business, and everyone’s happy.  You have a little yard surrounded by a short brick fence with an old wrought iron gate.  The gate had been in terrible condition when you bought the house, but a little elbow grease and some fresh paint had it looking good as new.  The whole house was a little dingy looking, but homey and put together.  The tiny front yard was full to bursting with flowers and plants, other than a little concrete path from the road to the front door.  The inside is cozy, thrifted furniture and handmade decorations.  You may not be rich, but you live quite happily within your means with enough leftover for some of your wants.  

You take the weekend to wallow.  You drink wine and eat ice cream and cry, binge watching shows and lying on the couch.  When you wake up on Monday though you feel a little better if slightly hungover, and you spend the day going over your resume and figuring out how to go about your job search.  When evening comes you’re interrupted by a sound out your back door that’s unfamiliar to you.  It’s almost like a knock, but not quite, and it’s followed by a thud and whine.  

The being standing at your backdoor, under the flickering warm light above the entryway, is huge.  Towering over you is a pitch black void of light standing on two powerful hind legs, holding a man in a ski mask up by his throat while he hangs limply from its clawed grip.  The creature is missing an arm and one of its eyes, and after a beat you recognize that whatever this thing is...it’s also the dog from behind the restaurant.  You faint. 

When you wake up you’re back on your couch, and as you blink up at the ceiling you recall your weird dream from earlier where the dog from the restaurant alley was standing outside your house.  But it wasn’t the dog, it was a werewolf.  Or it looked like a werewolf.  You chuckle to yourself before turning onto your side and promptly startling off the couch at the sight in front of you.  

The creature from what you were sure is a dream is sitting back on its haunches like a large dog, staring at you from its one intelligent blue eye.  It’s impossibly big, even sitting you think their head would reach the middle of your chest.  “Holy shit!”  You pop up from behind your coffee table to see the big creature cowering slightly and looking at you with their ears pinned back. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”  The rough voice of the creature hits your ears and you’re startled back into silent contemplation.  Okay, so, it can talk.  “Figured since you took care’a me, I’d keep watch over ya.  Found some guy sniffin’ ‘round your place so I took care of ‘im.”  

“Thank you.”  Your reply is a little quiet, and you’re staring slack-jawed at a creature that really, truly isn’t supposed to exist.  They huff out something that sounds like a laugh, although there’s a sort of self deprecating edge to it that you don’t like.  

“Yeah, this’s why I didn’t take ‘ya up on yer offer.”  They grimace, frowning as best as they can with their muzzle and sinking into themselves to make themselves smaller.  Immediately you try to perk up and break out of whatever your trance is.  

“No, no!  Please, don’t leave, I’m just surprised.  I didn’t think...I mean, I thought you were just a big...dog?  Obviously you’re not!  But I mean, you can’t blame me for being surprised can you?  Up until a few minutes ago werewolves were a fictional concept for me.”  They look a little sheepish at that, but settle down onto the rug in your living room and look at you curiously. 

“Keep fergettin’ humans ain’t connected with the super-nat’ral world no more really.”  They pin you with that icy blue gaze.  “You can feel our connection though, can’tcha?”  Your heart is racing, thrumming in your throat as you listen to the implication in that voice.  It’s true you’d felt drawn to that dog, but your heart always broke for poor strays out in the world.  You didn’t think it was any different to the feeling you’d get for any dog you saw regularly enough to get to know.  But sitting in front of you in this form there’s something about the pull that’s a little bit deeper, more intense.  “Can hear yer heart racing, pretty ‘lil rabbit.  Y’know, yer the reason I’m in this town in’the first place.”  You give a confused look and they chuckle raspily.  “S’the connection, ‘lil rabbit, we know to look for it when we start to feel it.  Was jes’ passin’ through to get back ta my pack, but I couldn’t leave without my mate.”  

“M-Mate?”  You can only ask that question in a small, soft voice as they chuckle at you again, languidly flowing up and stalking around the coffee table to tower over you from where you’re still sitting on the floor.  Their cold nose on your pulse point makes you shriek, but you bare your neck up rather submissively instead of pull away. 

“I was serprised too ‘lil rabbit, human mates’re rare shit.  ‘Specially for animals like me.”  They inhale deeply at your neck before licking up the column of your throat to your jaw.  “‘M a lucky woman, my ‘lil mate is cute as shit, ‘n you smell so fucking good.”  Your answering whimper prompts another low growl from her chest, and her jaw locks around your throat just enough to leave the imprint of her teeth on your neck.  When she sits back on her haunches and towers over you again her eye is sparking heat as she gazes at you.  “Was tryin’ ta figger out how ‘ta meetcha all natural like, but then ya stopped comin’ round ‘n tonight happened an’ I had’ta protect ya, rabbit, and when ya saw me and ya fainted I panicked.”  

Your laugh is loud and powerful, and you startle the werewolf into silence as she word vomits out at you.  Before she can look too upset though you lean forward and hug her, resting your head on her chest.  Her hand are is more like a human hand than a paw, although each finger is still tipped with harsh claws that make you shiver as they rake through your hair to scratch your scalp pleasantly.  You nuzzle your face into the fluffy fur of her chest, pleased to feel the give of small breasts beneath the dark fuzz.  Your content sigh has her let out a low rumble, laving her tongue across your ear in an affectionate swipe. 

“Well, I think you did just fine.  Protected me from a burglar and everything.  Thank you for that, by the way.”  You smile up at her, cupping her jaw with one hand as you tug her down to your level in order to place a chase human kiss on her snout.  She lets out a content little whine that makes you giggle, and settles her big head in your lap so you can card your fingers through her fur around her ears and down the back of her skull.  “What’s my mate’s name?” 

Her tail thumps wildly against the floor for a moment as she stares up from your lap with her eye wide and sparkling.  “Kara, ‘lil rabbit.  An’ don’t go ‘round callin’ me yer mate if you aren’t gonna accept the claim, sweets.”  Her growl has a low, seductive timbre to it in the end, and you swallow thickly before nodding.  “Already in dangerous territory rabbit, betcha didn’t know all’a those times ya fed me was you courtin’ me.”  Her smile is appropriately wolfish.  “Now how ‘bout your name?”  You stumble over introducing yourself, and the way Kara purrs your name back to you makes your insides flip pleasantly.  

“If I...I mean, if I were to accept the claim, what would that mean?  Remember, I’m a human, I’m kinda ignorant about all of this.”  You continue petting over her skull as she settles back into your lap, humming thoughtfully, her one arm moving to encircle you slightly, toying with the hem of your shirt where it lays against the floor at your hip.  

“Means yer mine, forever.  Kinda like marriage, but no divorce, not like yer gonna wanna leave me anyway rabbit.”  She gives you a one-eyed wink that still manages to make you blush.  “Means I take care’a ya, keep ya fed, housed, protected, warm, satisfied.”  The way she gazes up at you with promise at the last word makes you swallow thickly, trying not to shift your hips at the implication.  “Bring ya into my pack, you’d be parta the family.  I gotta ‘lil cabin out in the woods, most’ve us do since they mostly spend time in a human form, but it’s a place’a my own.  Feels awful lonely without my mate.”  

The two of you talk through the night, and fall asleep together in a pile on your living room floor.  Her story breaks your heart.  She wasn’t born into the pack she’s currently a part of.  Her original family couldn’t believe that their daughter had inherited their dominant gene while their son preferred to be much more passive.  But her parents took advantage of her need to be accepted and love, and forced her to spend so much time shifted that she gradually forgot how to shift back.  Her human form had been lost to her since she was a child, and while her new packmates were working on it - that’s actually the reason she’d been passing through your city in the first place, to visit a physician who was sympathetic to werewolves, and who thought they  might be able to help her reclaim her human form and therefore some semblance of normalcy and a place in broader society.

You’re surprisingly comfortable when you wake for someone who slept on the ground, but when you come to full consciousness you to find yourself draped fully over the big fuzzy woman you realize why.  You didn’t really sleep on the ground, you slept on a big fluffy cushion in effect.  You want to accept the claim.  It’s not like you had anything tying you here any longer.  Your family wasn’t here, your job was gone, you can lighten up your load, break the lease, and just...go with this.  This is the adventure you used to spend nights wishing for, really.  Less “knight-in-shining-armor” and more “fuzzy-mercenary-who-would-kill-for-you” but still, someone who said they were destined for you, swept you off your feet and made you feel special, beautiful, perfect just as you are.  

“Thinkin’ hard there, rabbit.”  You squeak a little and jump as you’re broken out of your thoughts by the rough sleepy voice of Kara.  She chuckles at your reaction and then laughs when you pout up at her in return.  “Oh no, not that look rabbit, ‘s too cute.”  She nuzzles into the crown of your head, still chuckling.  Rubbing her scent all over you and yours on her in return.  

“Well, if you have to ask, I was thinking about the fact that I want to accept your claim.”  That stills the woman beneath you, and you let you a little shriek when she abruptly sits up, taking you with her until you’re sitting astride her lap as she gazes down at you, your face caged in her big hand. 

“What did’ja say?”  Her voice is hushed and almost reverent, her thumb stroking over your cheek with an impressive amount of gentleness.  You smile up at her and place your hand over hers on your cheek, your eyes sparkling happily. 

“I said I want to accept your claim, Kara.  I feel it too, and the thought of staying in this shitty city without you here with me causes me physical pain.  Wherever you go, I want to go with you.”  She growls pressing her muzzle to your lips and pushing her tongue into your mouth in one swift motion.  She hums at your taste, angling your head to her liking so she can take her time mapping out all of the spots that make you writhe against her.  When she pulls away, panting heavily, you can see her one pupil is blown with arousal.  

“Not here, rabbit, when I claim ya it’s gonna be in my house on my bed so we can make it all ours.”

[salty-star-child]

Another Malex AU - Part Three

Another addition?? what is going on?? the answer is that malex has taken over and I love Michael and Maria being close friends so, uh, I think I’m gonna keep doing this for the whole lost decade oops

part one, part two, part three

Maria is behind the bar, cleaning down the bar top, while Michael spins a pencil between his fingers.

He’s worrying at his bottom lip as he stares down at a piece of paper and a glossy photo. She moves down the bar to stand across from him.

“It’s a letter, Guerin. It’s not that hard,” she tells him, giving him a small smile. He glances up at her for no longer than a second before they’re back on the paper. The paper that’s only got the words Dear Alex written in Guerin’s chicken scratch handwriting.

“I just—I need it to be perfect,” he mumbles. He sounds as distracted as he looks so she snatches the photo.

Guerin isn’t fast enough to take it back from her.

It’s of Michael and Alex out in the desert, looking happier than she’s ever seen either of them, with guitars in their hands and the back of Michael’s truck behind them.

“This is a really nice photo,” she says as she hands it back. His cheeks slowly turn a pinker hue.

“Thanks. It’s my favorite, actually.”

“Who took it?”

“Max. He and Alex were partners for some lab project and needed a ride out. He’d forfeited a weekend of car privileges in exchange for Isobel’s help in one of his many attempts to ask Liz on a date.” Michael smiled wistfully. “I didn’t even realize he’d taken a picture until he’d had it printed out for me. I had him get a copy so I could send it to Alex.”

Maria raises an eyebrow, head tilted to one side with a contemplative look on her face.

“Does Max, you know, know?” She asks.

Michael’s cheeks flush and he avoids her eyes guiltily.

“I…haven’t said anything to him yet, or Iz,” he confesses. “If he does know, he hasn’t, like, said anything to me about it.”

“Well, if he doesn’t,” Maria hums. “The two of you must’ve been quite something out there to inspire such photographic genius.”

Michael snorts and shakes his head at her dramatics.

“Anyways, no one’s asking you to tell them anything until you’re ready to,” she tells him. “For all the rumors that went around about Alex, he didn’t actually tell Liz and me outright that he was gay until junior year.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmhmm. Nothing’s ever easy in life, but it’s certainly easier when you’re comfortable in your own skin. Of anybody round here, figured you’d know that much.”

Michael bit his bottom lip and returned his eyes to the paper in front of him. Slowly, he placed the pencil to the paper and started to write. She smiled and went back to pretending she wasn’t watching him worry over the very first letter by cleaning.

It took two and a half hours—Maria gave up on using cleaning as a pretense once she’d cleaned everything twice and just sat next to him as he wrote and erased and rewrote—but he finally finished the letter. She watched him carefully fold the letter into uneven thirds with the picture in the middle. He held it out to her, face directed away from her and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help the teasing smile on her face.

Maria placed one hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing it as she took the letter from his fingers.

“You’re not…gonna read it, right?” he asked. The innocent nature of his embarrassment was endearing in a way she’d never really considered him to be before.

“You mean you didn’t give it to me to proofread?” she teased. The glare he sent her would’ve been much more frightening if it weren’t for how red his face was. “Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist. I’m not reading anything; this letter is between you and your boy only.”

She tapped the end of his nose with the corner of the letter as she slid off the bar stool and went back around the bar. She ducked underneath to look for the small package amongst the organized chaos beneath the bar. Pulling it out, she brought it up to show Guerin the contents.

“Mom made him a batch of cookies, but I can’t guarantee they’re edible—she made them to ‘cleanse his aura’ or something. Said she had a feeling he needed it,” Maria told his as she carefully placed his letter on top of the cookies. “I think, paired with a letter from his boyfriend back home, his aura will be cleaner than ever.”

Michael huffed a laugh that sounded as skeptical as it did amused.

“Oh yeah? Well, if the psychic says so, who am I to disagree?”

Maria taped up the small box and slapped on the tag with where and who to send it to that she’d printed out that morning.

“Wanna come with me to deliver it to the post office?” she asked him.

“I would, but…the whole point of sending the letter with your stuff is so Chief Hardass wouldn’t catch wind of it. Pretty sure he isn’t under the impression we’re the ‘walk each other to send mail’ kind of friends.”

Even disappointed, Guerin’s snark never failed to rear its head whenever Jesse Manes entered a conversation.

“If you’re sure…tell Max I said hi. I’d ask you to tell Real Life Barbie too, but I don’t want to. No offense.”

“Nah, I get it. Isobel is…an acquired taste,” he smirked. Maria gave him a look.

“Those are some nicer words than I’d use, but that’s one way to put it,” she said while she glanced at the time. “I really gotta go if I wanna get this to the post office before it closes. I’ll let you know when I get something from Alex.”

“Thanks, DeLuca,” he told her, quiet and sincere. “It’s—it’s really…nice. Being able to talk to someone ‘bout it. Like this, I mean.”

“It’s surprisingly nice for me too, Guerin,” she said. “I’m glad I still have one friend around at least.”

The smile on Michael’s face shifts. Something a little disbelieving, a little hopeful, and a lot scared. Nodding her head once, she set the package back down and went around the bar again. Michael turned on his stool and raised an eyebrow at her, but she ignored it as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His arms go limp and there’s a tension in his shoulders that grows the tighter she holds him.

Eventually, as it became clear that she wasn’t about to let go before he returned the hug, his arms slowly make their way around her waist. His hold is loose, like he expects her to jerk away. She holds a little tighter for a few more seconds.

“See you tomorrow, Guerin,” she said, backing away and grabbing the box off the bar top.

[theladylovingcrow]

New Places, Friendly Faces Part 3 (Sanny)

https://theladylovingcrow.tumblr.com/post/189298208331/new-places-friendly-faces-part-2-sanny

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow - writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner (Sanny), lil bit of Danny/Ronnie but he's quickly swept away with Sam

Length: about 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: Alternate Universe, Diner AU, No band AU, fluff, some angst, awkwardness, first dates, you know the ones where person A's date is failing and person B comes and sits with them, sorry i forgot what its called but that, hand holding, flirting, Sanny

Summary: Danny was nervous; he had been building up the courage for *weeks* to arrange a date, and now.... He wasn't quite sure what to think of the situation he found himself in. The night certainly wasn't going as he had expected it to - and his emotions had never ridden a roller coaster this fast. Hell, the beautiful angel holding his hand wasn't even the one he had arranged to meet 2 hours ago.

Author's Notes: Yep! I've officially adopted an every Monday post schedule for this, so that's cool! Just an fyi about the ending of this chapter, I'm so sorry to disappoint of you're hoping for a magical portal but that's not it (that wpuld have been cool but this is a mundane story)

https://theladylovingcrow.tumblr.com/post/189298208331/new-places-friendly-faces-part-2-sanny

----------

"Right... well, I'm officially off duty once I ring you up, so why don't you two get out of here and have some fun."

Danny fished into his pocket one handed, finding his wallet. He tried to open it and get a ten out while still holding on to Sam, but it was pretty difficult so he was forced to let go in order to pay. He thought it was a little overly dramatic of his heart, but it literally stopped beating out of disappointment for a second. God. He was already completely whipped.

Sam stood up and grabbed the keys, going back to his other table to put on his coat while Danny got his change back from Ronnie. She, now sitting at the table with her other brothers, waved them goodbye as they exited the cozy diner, stepping out into the frigid snow.

Sam immediately grabbed Danny's hand back, putting both of them in his pocket as he started to walk around the back of the building to the employee's section of the parking lot.

Sam suddenly stopped, turning to look at Danny. "Shit, wait, how did you come here? Do you have a car?"

"Uhh, my mom dropped me off."

Sam nodded and kept walking. Danny, for some reason, didn't want to leave it at that - Sam didn't seem overly judgemental, but he wanted to show that he wasn't a completely helpless dork.

"Usually I get her car on the weekends," he continued, "but she had some thing to attend over in North Star and she couldn't get a ride. She brought me here and gave me money for the bus to take home."

"Hey, well, now you don't have to take the bus!"

Sam grinned at him, unlocking the door to his sister's car and opening it for Danny. He smiled to himself and ducked his head, getting in. Fuck whatever societal expectations - not like they really applied to gay couples anyways - he loved to be treated sweetly, too.

Starting the ignition and carefully backing out of the parking space, Sam laughed, loud and happy. Danny looked at him curiously.

"Oh my god, I just picked up a total hottie and we're going on a rendezvous in my sister's car! This is crazy!"

Danny laughed, too, amazed at the situation. Like, holy shit, he was in this guy's (sister's) car that he had met less than an hour ago and they were on their way to who knew where. And he didn't even care! Never in his life had Danny been less concerned about the future; his music, his golfing, school, the world at large, none of it mattered when Sam was sitting next to him, singing along to Jimi Hendrix and looking absolutely stunning in the passing lamplight.

They drove for a time, speeding past cozy houses and dense acres of trees that outlined the starlit sky. Sam didn't seem to have a destination in mind any time soon, and Danny didn't really care if the car never stopped driving. The radio started to fuzz out as the got further into the woods, and nothing but an old talk show was coming in, so Sam had Danny put in his Clapton CD he'd left in Ronnie's car.

"I was looking for that! Figured I'd left it in here, but I don't get the car as often now that she's working more."

Danny nodded, enjoying hearing these little bits about Sam's siblings. It always interested him - learning small facts about people and getting glimpses into their lives, even more so when he was very interested in that person themselves, too.

"So, Ronnie is older than you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah she's a year older than me, she just started taking some classes at the adult school in Saginaw. She's been working at Gerald's for awhile, but she gets adult hours, now, which is good because we like to stay out late and go see her," Sam laughed.

"Oh, that's cool. What about your brothers, the twins? Are they your only other siblings?"

"Yes, fortunately. I don't know how Mom and Dad handled us, we're all within three years of each other. What about you, are you an only child?"

Danny had been right, they were all close in age. Four kids, two of them twins! He still couldn't wrap his head around how that could possibly work out for the parents, but they all seemed to be nice people and clearly got along well. It was pretty nice, actually, having a (potential) boyfriend with a good relationship with his family - Danny knew that it might of been a slightly unfair dating requirement, but he wanted someone who loved their family as much as he did.

"I have a younger sister, she's a freshman at Frankenmuth High. I'm a senior, by the way."

"Wait, what? Me too! I wonder why I've never seen you if we go to the same school. How have I never noticed you before?" Sam exclaimed, making a sharp turn and pulling off of the paved road onto a dirt track.

Danny contemplated that, too. How one Earth had he never seen Sam if they went to the same fucking school? Sam was, like, *magnetic* or something, it didn't make any sense.

Sam interrupted him, not meaning to, as he was about to speak. "Alright, we're here. Sorry, continue," he grinned at Danny, looking sheepish at cutting him off. Danny smiled in return, telling him it was alright.

They got out of the car, shutting the doors gently so as not to disturb the peaceful nighttime forest, and also not to dent Ronnie's car.

Danny resumed what he was saying as Sam led him around to the trunk and started rooting around. "About not seeing me at school, well, you didn't have a reason to until now. I mean, it's not like a lot of people know me, I don't have many friends and I kinda tend to stay to the side."

"I can't imagine how you don't have tons of people hanging off of you," Sam said, looking up at Danny with his foxy eyes glinting in the moonlight. (That was cheesy, Danny knew - but his eyes were beautiful) "Like, the only explanation I can come up with as to why you don't have half of the school constantly begging you to notice *them* is because everyone is crazy."

He blushed and grinned, enjoying the feeling of being the one flirted with for once. It was beyond comprehensible for Danny as to why Sam seemed so taken by *him*, but it wasn't something he wanted to give up anytime soon if he could help it, confusion or not.

"Wow, you are a smooth talker, aren't you?"

Sam snorted. "Hardly. I'm telling you what I honestly think, and it's this: I've known you for maybe two hours, and you are the kindest, sweetest, smartest, most beautiful person I've ever met. Past maybe my mother, but that's different. You deserve all the friends in the world, and you could have any boy or girl you choose, I'm sure."

"Well, I'm choosing you," Danny said, blushing and grabbing Sam's hand. He didn't know what it was, but he was being particularly mushy today. Luckily, Sam seemed to really like it.

Sam led him away from the car after locking it up, one arm carrying a briefcase looking container, and the other's hand holding Danny's. They walked through the light snowfall and under heavy bows of trees, going along a path Danny couldn't see but that, apparently, Sam knew well.

Danny had the quick thought that Sam was going to murder him, and maybe he shouldn't ignore his survival instincts, but he decided that Sam would *never* kill him. He also asked, though, just to be sure.

"Are you planning on killing me out here?"

Sam laughed his donkey bray, swinging their hands and taking another slight turn around a large tree. "No, I don't think I'd be able to physically overpower you, you're probably way stronger than I am."

"Oh, yeah? But what about a gun? What's in the box, Sammy?"

Danny was grinning inside, though externally he blocked it so that his facade wouldn't slip. Sam stopped and stood in front of him.

"I'll show you what's in the box!" Sam said, holding it up in front of his crotch like that SNL sketch.

"Ooh, my favorite!" Danny wiggled his brows, staring at the box where, right behind it, was Sam's dick. They both laughed, faces rosy and eyes crinkled.

Danny was glad that he had chosen Sam over Ronnie, not only for the fact that Sam actually liked him back, but that he got along so well with him. Even if the romance was a bust, he could tell that they would be very good friends, the connection was that immediate. And, he liked the idea of being best friends with a guy and then also getting to fuck his brains out at the end of the day.

'I'm getting ahead of myself, he said he has standards.'

'*No*, he said that he won't fuck you in his sister's car, but he wants to.'

"Sam, dude, where are we going? What are we doing out here, like, really?" He choked out, dying to know and also hoping that the plans included at least a kiss.

Danny hadn't been this desperate to kiss someone in- possibly forever, really. He didn't know why he was so intent on getting Sam's lips on him (though, he supposed he did: like, *look* at Sam's mouth). It wasn't like himself to be this out of control - albeit on his own head - but Sam had this effect on him.

Logically, Danny knew that if Sam wanted to go slower he would totally respect that choice and not even be put out about it, he liked just being with Sam that much. But, a kiss.... He wanted just a taste, in case this was the only date he got to have with Sam.

"We're almost there, and then I'll show you," Sam said quietly.

They continued walking, going up a gentle slope and then around a giant boulder. When they came around the other side, Danny saw that the rock had been obscuring a pristinely white, snow covered clearing. All around them, flakes fell softly from the sky, some decorating the trees, and others landing on their heads.

Sam turned to look at him, grinning. "Isn't it pretty? I feel like, whenever I come here, I've entered another dimension or something."

Danny nodded, his breath nearly taken away by the delicate magic of the moment. Well, it wasn't completely perfect - his nose was running, his gloveless hands were both freezing and clammy in Sam's, and he had no fucking clue where he was - but Sam was so, so beautiful in this place he had brought them to.

They stood and stared at the scene, taking in everything, from the stars peaking out from in between the clouds to the feel of their thumbs rubbing back and forth over each other's knuckles.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam broke it, speaking softly, "This is one of my favorite places on Earth to be. We come here during all seasons, but there's just something more.... *special*, I guess, when everything is pure and damp and quiet."

"It's really nice, I can see why you like to bring people here."

"Actually," Sam paused, looking shyly at Danny, "I've never taken anyone else. As far as I can tell, my family are the only people who know about it."

"Really? I- thank you so much for bringing me to such a special spot for you," he gasped, grinning back at Sam's little smile.

Danny was floored, absolutely amazed with this moment in his life. Sam had, for reasons he couldn't understand but figured he'd better stop worrying about, taken him to a place that no one else had been to. It was an intimate, deeply trusting gesture that he'd made, and Danny received it full-heartedly. The scenery felt sacred, now, in a way that he couldn't quite describe but that filled him with content.

"This really does mean a lot, that you're letting me view your spot. I don't know how to say thank you enough for trusting me with this- can I, maybe, take you somewhere special to me next time?"

He was shooting his shot, and praying to whatever deity felt nearest in this winter forest that it would hit it's mark. Sam had decided to take him here right after meeting him, so it *would* work, right? Danny really fucking hoped that it did, and that he hadn't ruined the relationship they were building. It was newly born and a little confusing, but in a good way; they were already fused together somehow, a connection running through them to make it seem like they'd known each other for years instead if hours.

"I'll go anywhere you wanna take me," Sam answered. He looked aware of how cliche what hed said was, but he also didnt seem to care. Damny was internally screaming with joy. "I wasn't sure where I was driving, at first, but I ended up on the path here, and it felt right. You being here feels nice and right."

Danny was smiling openly, happiness on display. He swung their hands and looked up at the sky, where the snow clouds where starting to clear, the last of the flakes finishing their journey to the ground. Sam leaned into him slightly, a pleasurable warmth permeating into Danny's body through the many layers of their clothing.

"This is perfect! I was hoping the clouds would clear up, cause this wouldnt really be much fun without it. Now, c'mon, let me show you the inside."

Danny was completely confused, again. "The inside?"

-----------

@satans-helper @okietrish @karrotkate @lazingonsunday @lantern-inthenight @ryetheruler @oblvions @bigthighsandstupidguys @mountainofthesunn

[that-otome-potato]

This is part 2 to the Jinpachi piece I posted last week! I’ve been traveling, so not much work has been done other than writing a few little stories while flying because I kept changing my mind about how I wanted this to go.  This time it’s from Asayumi’s p.o.v and takes place right after the end of the first part.

I’m really enjoying coming up with these little moments in time between our Giant ninja and his lady.  I have to wonder if he would come up with some kind of nickname for his MC or if that’s strictly a Saizo thing...

@saizoswifey, @otomelin, @dear-mrs-otome, @masamunesmistress, @calicocrest (If you guys still want me to tag you of course!  If not, let me know!)

Words of affection were not his way.  

Asayumi knew this, yet she couldn’t keep from wishing to hear three simple words come from the lips she had kissed so passionately before being ravished against the wall of your room.

She wasn’t disappointed though.  She loved him just as he was, whether he was outspoken about his feelings and emotions or not.  He told her how he felt in the way he had taken her against the wall.  He told her how he felt in how he held her in his lap when neither his nor your legs could hold both of them up any longer.  He told her how he felt in the way he gently stroked his fingers along her jaw, tucking stray locks of hair behind her ear.  He told her how he felt in the way he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her, and she, him. 

His actions spoke more than words ever could because it came off of him in waves. 

Did it mean she didn’t want to hear it some day?  No, of course she wanted to hear it. But she would wait, because she knew he had a good reason for staying quiet about it.

Asayumi let out a contented sigh as she settled in his lap. Jinpachi was special to her, so she would wait for him, support him, be there for him, in any way she could.

~*~

“Go to Ueda with you?” Ever the silent one, Jinpachi only gave her a single nod, but she could see the twinkle of a smile in his hazel eyes. “What brought this on?”

“Milord has found a suitable bride, so there will soon be no reason for him to come to Kyoto.”

‘And where Lord Nobuyuki goes, Jinpachi goes.  So if Lord Nobuyuki doesn’t have a reason to return to Kyoto, then neither does he.’ That line of thought came unbidden, and she quickly shook it away.  ‘That’s why he wants me to go to Ueda - because he wants me close so he doesn’t have to chose between us. That is the last thing I want him to have to do.’

Asayumi nibbled on her lip as she contemplated what to do.  She didn’t want to be without him, but could she leave her mother and Yahiko? 

Her mother answered her question for her after overhearing their conversation.  

“Go on, dear. Master Jinpachi is a good man and this will be a good opportunity for you to grow. Just make sure to let us know when you start having babies!”

“Mother!” Asayumi could feel the heat growing on her cheeks as she quietly glanced at Jinpachi.  He still maintained his usual stone-faced mask, but she could see his cheeks take on the slightest of pink hues.

Things were going to be awkward for them over the next few days, she knew it.

~*~

“...What did you just say?”

“I cannot make promises and I refuse to make ones I know that I cannot keep.  But I wish for you to live with me.”

Asayumi stood there and stared at him in surprise. She never knew he had thought about something like this.  “I didn’t think Ninja did something like this.”

She hoped he understood that she wasn’t turning him down.  She just didn’t want whatever village he hailed from to be upset.  She had spoken with Lord Yukimura about similar things when she had brought food from the restaurant she had established shortly after moving to Ueda nearly a year before. He had said that when a ninja goes against his village’s wishes, they are usually punished.   Would he get punished for keeping someone like her?  The last thing she wanted was to be used against him.

When a look of hurt slipped through, she quickly explained the thoughts going through her head. Jinpachi nodded in understanding and took one of her hands in his and gave it a squeeze.  She could see what he wanted to say just by the way he was looking at her. He would protect her, love her, make a life for them and protect it with his own. 

She could feel tears forming as she smiled and nodded her head. This produced a smile so serene, she felt warmed by it’s glow just as much as she did while wrapped in his arms.

~*~

“What’s this?”

Asayumi looked down at the blade in her hand that was as long as her forearm.

“A Wakizashi blade. From milord. He had it commissioned while I was away on my last mission.  I asked him to so that you could protect yourself while I was gone.”

“Do you think I will have a need to protect myself in the near future?” “Anything is possible.”

Asayumi looked down at the decorative blade in her hand, seeing the six-coins along the palm of the blade handle, feeling the metal inlaid into the wood handle warm from her hand.  She didn’t need to unsheath the weapon to know that the blade would be deadly sharp.

“Will you teach me how to use it?” She received a nod and smiled. Asayumi detested war, but if it meant more time spent with Jinpachi either in training or because she was able to save her own life, then she would do it.

~*~

“Again.”

Asayumi stood there, feet shoulders-width apart, panting and sweating, while he looked calm and cool as a river in autumn. Lunge, swipe, withdraw. Anticipate your enemy’s moves so you can avoid. At least long enough to incapacitate or to run. Jinpachi’s words whispered through her mind as she trained with him days later.

Lord Yukimura had visited with Lord Nobuyuki occasionally, giving hints and tips to help her learn how to wield her Wakizashi. More often than not, the Sanada brothers got to laughing about one thing or another, causing her concentration to break and they would have to stop until everyone stopped laughing.  Even Jinpachi cracked a smile on occasion when this happened.

That helped her with the hard practicing Jinpachi was putting her through. But her favorite times were when they had been training for extended periods of time and, however rare, the layers of his kimono started coming off. She felt the heat of her body grow from just the memory of seeing him in his hakama and his juban during one session.  The way it had stuck to his body like a second layer of skin on that hot day left her hot and bothered for the rest of the day.

This time, however, he was deadly serious in his training with Asayumi. The chill coming off of him cooling any ardor she might have felt.  The only thing she could think of that would cause this was the threat of war looming on the horizon closer than ever. 

Without warning, Jinpachi was suddenly in her face and pushing her to the floor, straddling her hips, his own training sword at her throat, free hand pressing down her shoulder.  “Dead.”

Asayumi swallowed heavily against the fake blade against her throat. ‘He’s never done this before.  What do I do?!’

“What will you do now?  You are incapacitated and I am your attacker.”

Her heart beat fast, her mind turning him into an image of the Magistrate. If he were looming over her like this, what would she do?  What did she want to do? Unsure of the cause, something came over her and she hooked one leg around his and used the leverage to push him over until she was sitting on his legs, her practice dagger against his groin.

She saw a flash of surprise go past his hazel eyes before it was consumed with pride and a little flare of desire. Asayumi’s body responded in kind at how she had overcome him and, as one, they dropped their weapons and leaned together to meet their lips in a kiss.

Asayumi almost felt lightheaded at how fast the heat had come to her body after how cool he had been since they started training. Regardless of why her desire for him spiked, it only grew when they started kissing passionately.  Their tongues lapping at each other needing a taste, teeth clashing, all as if they couldn’t get close enough to the other.

The next morning, she kept getting odd looks from those in the castle when she brought food from their small house in the woods. When she and Jinpachi had finally pulled away from the kiss they shared, he had spirited her away to his room in the castle and didn’t let her leave until just a couple hours earlier. Thus resulting in her stiff walking and tired aura that was palpable around her.

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